Ivan Graziani
Agnese dolce Agnese

It's just worth spending a few words on one of the most beautiful records in Italian music: "Agnese dolce Agnese" by Ivan Graziani, released in 1979. From Abruzzo, a wolf of the Gran Sasso, a talented guitarist, an irregular artist impossible to label and capable like few of telling many stories of the provinces. Stories of women, of failed artists but also noir stories of deaths and murders, singles, sex, and immorality.

The first 10 seconds of the record immediately let you know what you're getting into. Ivan starts with a much-loved riff that's always present in his live shows, "Taglia la testa al gallo." An encouragement to stand up, rebel, and cut the head off whoever bothers you, the rooster of the coop. It could be anyone: an arrogant and violent neighbor, a domineering father, a depraved uncle... "Fame" is an autobiographical piece. The hunger that Ivan probably experienced during the period when he wasn't successful or hadn't recorded albums yet. The hunger that appears "like a classy woman living in garbage and showing up at the right time with her roast chicken scent." The hunger that, unfortunately, forces you into low compromises because in its name "you have killed illusions and worked on things you didn't believe in." A theme dear to the songwriter from Abruzzo revisited in an unreleased 2010 track "L'orchestrale bastardo" in which Ivan sings, "play bastard orchestra. Play for a few bucks every night that there's a hyena on your back that will eat your leftovers. Music and misery go well together." Women are also present in this work, but you have to wait because you barely have time to recover from the hit of hunger when an intense guitar and harmonica riff by Fabio Treves in "Veleno all'autogrill" kicks in, another provincial story. Don't say that with his stories Ivan wasn't immersed in our reality. He was more immersed than some colleagues with all too easy "social commitment." "Veleno all'autogrill" is the story of a young hitchhiker, happy with his freedom but dirt-poor and forced to steal salmon to eat. The LP doesn't let you breathe and hits you again with another rock piece also loved by Ivan and heavily played live: "Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde." This song belongs to the entire human race because there's a Hyde in each of us ("He is what you don't want but are").

Much has been written about the wonderful slow ballad "Agnese." The only certainty is that the music recalls the rondo of a sonatina by the 18th-century composer Muzio Clementi. Ivan's lyrics are really beautiful. A song about the sense of regret for something lost, sweet and bitter memories of a never-forgotten and, above all, never-kissed woman. The record contains what is probably the best song written by the Abruzzese artist: "Fuoco sulla collina," an oneiric song and a wonderful metaphor for disillusionment. In the dream, there is a garden and a sixteen-year-old boy, probably the young Graziani, eager to reach the hill where a battle is taking place. The flashes of fires can be seen, and the echo of noises can be heard. However, he is held back by a faceless adult turned away, the same adult Graziani, who brings him back down to earth, calling the teenager an "illusioned, romantic fool - the fires you're talking about are the headlights focused on the field of tractors that are threshing." A warning, a piece of advice to be wary of false revolutions and not to fall into easy illusions, because it's the late '70s, years of turmoil where "revolution" was the password. Revolution, often orchestrated "from above," by higher levels. The ending is an extraordinary guitar solo that in the live version of "Parla tu" becomes gigantic because Graziani was a stage animal live. The religious heritage typical of the Italian province is present in the mocking "Il piede di San Raffaele," where the warm lady Sofia with her barely legal lover and Don Isidoro, a pedophile priest with bleached hair and tights, can obtain forgiveness by turning to the saint "because where you have sinned he will redeem you but only if you kiss his foot" and in the very peculiar "Il prete di Anghiari" where religious village superstitions typical of the province come with a priest who "is a wizard who never talks about his past and on his stone arch has carved an inscription the wind and the night will guard me." After "Modena park," perhaps the minor track of the record ends with another beautiful Graziani-like ballad, another absurd provincial story with Susy the singer in love with her tough rock and roll bassist even though he played waltzes in the province. But the bassist was emotionally involved, and in the end, Susy is forced to endure the hate and revenge of another her. A very particular revenge, cutting of her hair that was "long long down to the mandolin." Beautiful and long musical ending of the song.

The album's sound is enriched by the contribution of two luxury drummers, Walter Calloni and Gilberto Rossi nicknamed "Attila," the percussion of Maurizio Preti, the harmonica of Fabio Treves, the bass by Bob Callero and Beppe Pippi and the keyboards of Fabrizio Foschini and Claudio Majoli. All the guitars are Ivan's. The cover, splendid, is a drawing by comic artist Tano Liberatori.

Ivan Graziani was an anomalous artist, an anarchist of the guitar, allergic to record contracts of the type "make a record and you do it when and how we tell you." "Agnese dolce Agnese" is still today a raft that safely floats in the sea of musical mediocrity in our country. It is a work that we should all keep in the useless shelves of our homes.

One last thing: let it not be said that Ivan Graziani used falsetto. His was a very peculiar voice defined by the singer-songwriter himself as a "depraved child’s voice."

R.I.P. Ivan.