Il Parto delle Nuvole Pesanti
Sulle ali della mosca

I find it exhilarating the way they capture the song of those living in a state of perpetual crisis. I love the vision of sardonic and aware solidarity from those prepared for the cruelty of mors tua vita mea, imposed by the deceptions of these days. I adore those who write lyrics that go beyond a declaration of love for the left or the banal observation of cruel everyday facts. The Grande Sud evoked by Eugenio Bennato thrives on traditions, experiments, and deep analyses of historical events and music that have helplessly witnessed the succession of centuries-old forces. For the rest, there are those who have already offered an alternative to the alternative of conducting commitment and analysis in an advanced evolutionary state and more aware of the limits of the various "venceremos", "hasta la victoria", "revolucion" and so on. I do not want to reduce everything to this potential opposition because it is not just about my personal note. I must talk about an album I really like, which has made the rounds of the usual national circuit through gimkanas between bookstores, independent radios, small concerts, and revelries propelled by a substantial gypsy charge. The charge of those who often eat dust, bitterness, and disappointment for lunch and dinner. The charge of those who, used to the worst, have a wise, constructive, and aware view of their own impossibilities, to avoid misunderstandings, which in certain situations mean only trouble.

Il Parto delle Nuvole Pesanti has always been a shrewd band that has corrected the trajectory of committed songwriting of the ‘90s by satirizing the desolations and riches of spirit when May Day anthems were in fashion, which, let's say, suited everyone and fostered proselytism centered around key words and dedicated to a certain type of more or less desired commerciality. An identity choice by the Calabrian guys who formed a folk rock musical group in Bologna in 1991.  A career born with an idea, with genuine naivety and with long hair for the leader (guitar and voice) Peppe Voltarelli. From Alisifare to 4 Battute Di Povertà, albums have followed one another that have shown a decisive and convincing maturation in the ability to contaminate and be cross-pollinated, in the studio production (initially truly unintentional low-fi), and in compositional architectures. Increasingly intense and sophisticated arrangements have marked the moment of fame of the 4 battute, with sharp and venomous introductions to rock that is often hard, sometimes electronic, and ultimately innovative with the tarantapunk of the track "Lupu".

In the opinion of the writer, the best execution of the bandish crew of Parto came in the year 2000 with the album Sulle Ali Della Mosca. In this opportunity, Voltarelli & Co. freed themselves from the characteristic and typical sardella western mantle that had characterized their image and sound, to speak a musical language in close contact with the wind of the east and the eastern Mediterranean. Never, absolutely never putting aside Calabrian inspirations and their mother tongue, protagonist of fewer episodes than usual, yet still a protagonist.

It should also be said, for those who want to know a little more, that today’s crooner Voltarelli is perhaps just a son of this album, which sees him interpreting with flexibility and ease the varied portfolio of peacock-tailed vocal extensions and modes, from the diaphragmatic "Viaggiatori" to the leftist "Andrebbe Bene Un Gelato Al Limone".

The album. After a comprehensive and repeated listening, the matrices of this release emerge clearly: the usual rockphonic experimentation pushed into territories where the guitar supports the solos of the wind instruments in a convulsive phobic distortion, the Bregovic-like approach in composing tarantula-like tracks halfway between Balkan band music and the folklores of the Ionian Sea, the practical and snarling sophistication of a structural order that returns to the listener the composite façade of the more complex tracks, or the energetic effectiveness of the more listenable tracks. Finally, a songwriting that does not have the rebellious or sarcastic force of certain singer-songwriters from a certain heritage, but which focuses on situations and poor atmospheres, like a plate of sun-dried tomatoes. The taste, indeed, is never lacking. Perhaps it is hard to understand for those who do not know those scientifically hidden towns compared to the coast, which denote closure and impotence but, so to say, opening those situations to the curiosity of the public was not an easy endeavor at all.

And so begin the dreams of small glories with a thumbs-up on the roadside in the opening song "Prendo Il Vento", skin warm like when you are on a blazing train without air conditioning and with the windows open to enjoy or suffer the relentless humidity of the nearby sea. Talks of "Terribili Momenti" overcome with a ruthless and ravenous taranta rock always underlined by a cheeky accordion. Ideally, the dried territories of the Balkans, Greece, and Cyprus are connected with the single "Ciani" (for a certain period, the theme of the radio show Caterpillar), a popular march of those with a treacherous destiny to respond to with all their wits. Even the songwriter ballads work along the lines of "Suonano Parole", with its subdued eros. And, above all, one dances with the tarantàska of the already mentioned "Andrebbe Bene Un Gelato Al Limone", a groovy Bosnian-made whirlpool that reiterates the violent success of "Lupu".

I do not expect you to like it too, but I believe I can definitely say that we are facing an important moment in Italian music. Probably, one of the most independent ones.