This band has trapped itself.
With the first two albums, it made itself loved by many. However, it wanted to be appreciated by even more. It said, let's smooth the edges.
Result: many of the many who loved them, love them less. Very few of the many more who should have appreciated them understood them.
Who cares.
This third installment of the theater of horrors is a wonderful journey.
In music, besides the guitars blasted to a thousand, there is an immense world to discover. By buying the ticket for the journey, the band abandoned the aggression of its beginnings to find a different dimension. Different directions that allow it not to suffocate in the most useless and predictable repetition.
The album starts with "Rivendico": a tried and tested style and precisely for this reason also predictable, throughout the album there will still be bricks like this, which work great but lack originality like "Non vedo l'ora".
Capovilla nonetheless exhibits his continuous maturation in songwriting, touching really interesting moments in "Dimmi Addio", "Skopjie". So much social interest filtered through the delicacy of intimate and everyday stories. The journey, abandonment, solitude, and contemporary disorientation are the main themes of the album.
Tracks like "Martino", "Nicolaj", "Doris", rightfully rank among the best ever produced by the band. Energy that yields to dilated pseudo-progressive moments in "Adrian", "Cleveland-Baghdad".
But what should they have done? Reheat the same old soup? You might say, yes. But instead, no, they've used fresh vegetables. Acoustic guitars appear for the first time, as do synths and strings that play fundamental roles in many tracks.
This album was a necessary step to take. For certain choices, it takes courage, and the guys have shown they have it.
They have crafted an excellent product that sounds great in the stereo even after months and will probably continue to do so even many years down the road.
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Other reviews
By Heisenberg
An obese album is never beautiful. It’s a little heist on the poor man’s money.
An album should also be a little enjoyable, not a brick to the privates.
By Lord Of Nothing
The message hits like a punch to the face—the anguished loss of certainties, the ideological shipwreck of a generation.
The best way to appreciate this album is drop by drop, a few songs that particularly touch you when anger or impotence rises.