Jokifocu
Nuvole di passaggio

Strange way to make a comeback, that of Jokifocu. Five years after "Rapideffusioni" (Urtovox), a rather naive album that perhaps sparked excessive enthusiasm (best band of the year for Rocksound alongside One Dimensional Man, Bugo, and Jennifer Gentle), they resurface with this "Nuvole di passaggio" which, to be honest, left me quite puzzled on the first listen. Gone is the carefree attitude of the debut, made of surf choruses, very low-fi, off-kilter solos, and quirky lyrics, I find myself with 10 well-packaged, well-played, and well-sung songs. Like billions of other records. How sad! I was ready to place it prominently among the records of those in Italy trying to follow paths away from the most overused rock clichés (Bugo or Marta sui Tubi, for example) and instead, the three sound cautious and careful not to step on anyone's toes. I've been puzzled for days (I like having my toes stepped on) but strangely hesitate to delete them from my player. Perhaps it's the kind of album that hides a surprise, I tell myself. Being stubborn is useful. It helps not to throw away records. I keep Jokifocu's close. Firstly, I've never heard someone start an album shouting something related to the consolations of onanism. "Ordinario" is an ironic and calm reflection on one's despair, a theme particularly dear to any self-respecting rocker and here treated with the grin missing from blowhards like Baustelle, Luci della Centrale Elettrica, or Afterhours, just to name a few. And it's a grin that runs through the entire album, even when the tone is nostalgic (the rugged rock of "I cani del deserto"), disillusioned (the violent "Arancini e aranceti"), relaxed (as in the instrumental "Alphacentauri", where they mimic a certain space surf like astronauts). And again: the metallic and syncopated anger of "Una carie nel cuore", the beat swooning of "Happy days", the burst of brass that concludes "Afa", a piece which in my opinion is exquisite (of clear Pavement lineage). Up to the electronic sweetness of "Quando dormi", composed by labelmate Q.

In conclusion: there are brass, there are strings, there's trendy electronics, and the voices are in tune this time. The bunglers have grown up, and five years mean extra wrinkles on their instruments. It seems they've also learned to play in the meantime, which is not necessarily desirable for a band that doesn't hide its nostalgia for low fidelity. Yet somehow they are still magnificently themselves, stubborn in their idea of an elusive rock that has grown by ingesting and spitting out the best American music has given us in the last two decades.