Il Volo
Essere O Non Essere? Essere, Essere, Essere!

To be or not to be?

Or: how to turn an existential question into a sweet melody that accompanies your day from 6 in the morning until evening. Exactly, do not be fooled by the title, this album is not a succession of unanswered questions and distressing melodies. These are such light melodies that they could take flight at any moment, wings are not necessary, but they don't, and they remain there, in mid-air in your head, delighting it.
They are Volo, a band largely ignored within the Italian prog scene, perhaps because they are fundamentally different from various CCP, Orme, and Area. They are much softer, more gentle, the most lounge pop prog out there. Furthermore, they make structured music that is played quite differently compared to other contemporary groups: space for clavinets, strange keyboards that stretch over a beach formed by never excessive guitar (and mandolin).

This one in question is their second work, perhaps the most valid one, without belittling their beautiful self-titled debut, dated 1975.

To Be To Be To Be!

Nothing simpler: to be. And nothing simpler opens the album: a catchy pop with flashes of inventiveness that make it intriguing, "Gente in Amore" is a magical melody, resting on an especially inspired guitar by the good Radius, another praiseworthy yet little-known character of our music. It is followed by "Medio Oriente 249.000 Tutto Compreso", obviously with oriental tones, like a tapestry struck by gusts of guitars and a stable percussive rhythm: it really feels as if that far-off world unites with our musical culture, and this occurs one evening, on a Mediterranean beach, in front of a large bonfire, fed by gentle guitars. This is the impression evoked by listening to this album, or at least in certain passages: an instrumental Mediterranean pop, changing, progressive but fundamentally gentle. It's incredible how all six tracks glide over our skin, touching our sense of hearing, leaving no singular sensations but one pleasant melody.
In fact, another characteristic of this album is the great sonic coherence it possesses, along with sometimes quite singular titles: the abstract and timeless "Alcune Scene", "Svegliandomi Con Te Alle 6 Del Mattino", a very delicate, calm guitar performance on a stage covered in roses, which at the end lights up with a clarinet that closes the curtain. Everything concludes with an extended "Canti e Suoni", with echo effects and estrangement (the last minute of the track is magnificent), leaving the listener in the uncertainty the title evoked, which the names of the 6 tracks and the (beautiful) cover, mark even more. In all this, therefore, only the splendid music seems to be our certainty. Perhaps this was precisely the message that this album wanted to convey.

I Listen Therefore I Am.