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Rating: I certainly won't be here to talk about this band with a more than embarrassing name. I certainly won't say four bits of nonsense that can be found on Wikipedia and are only superfluous in front of the music. I wasn't there in '68 and I can't say anything more about them than what can be found on the internet or in some dictionary of Italian bands from the sixties. Whether the Chewing Gum wrote this piece or someone else thought of it for them, it doesn't matter to me. My real interest in musicians and artists arises when they become nothing but "a mere awl to make holes" (as an already-deceased novelist used to say); a means to give me pleasure, enjoyment, joy, and excitement. And that's what these guys manage to do.
So I'll talk about the song.
The lyrics have little prominence in themselves and keep things discreet, through their obscure dialogue-monologue, about what one would like to talk about, proving to be strictly functional, even from the usability perspective (it's still Italian beat), to the music. A clear message is offered only at the beginning and invites us to direct our cerebro-acoustic attention to the dominant instrument, which, as suggested in the title, turns out to be the neural center of the single. It is indeed the guitar (two in fact) that represents a sort of cosmic background radiation in sonic terms. A kind of distorted ancestral message comes forward, "an old story" from the big bang etched at a slow pace. It is an electric narrative in fuzz strokes that alters and repeats continuously for almost three minutes, wandering and returning on its path with a spirit closer to a rock mass à la Electric Prunes than to the fiery/ated six-string of Hendrix, whose influence is still evident. But here there are no hymn books on hand, nor choral parts in Latin. Instead, we can find a young and naive "long-haired" humanity in the midst of a wild mass air guitar performance, carried out in a healthy mystical silence that's truthfully a bit freaky. A bit too freaky.
However, it is something else that makes me adore this piece: a wish I would like to come true, even if just for a minute.
It might be that these four former kids sing in Italian, yet are just as cool as some of their companions across the channel/ocean, it might be that my body simply cannot stop feeling the vital tension of this damn composition, but I really wish this song would keep on playing forever and follow me everywhere. I would even want it to tyrannize the entire planet. That it would echo at high volume (well beyond the limit of our miserable amplifiers) in all eardrums, covering every corner of the globe with itself! That no one could help but unleash their energy by shaking to its notes, relentlessly receiving shovelfuls of crescendoing pleasure! That it were like a god! Better.
Amen
"Senti questa chitarra/copre tutte le voci/ormai non serve a niente parlare"
Tracklist
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