Jovanotti
Oh, Vita!

There was undoubtedly more than a little curiosity about what could come from the collaboration between the legendary American producer Rick Rubin (a historic producer of many of the best rock works of recent years) and our own Lorenzo (looking at beards, the former wins outright), especially after two albums that had achieved undeniable commercial success (with accompanying stadium concerts and brain-busting pop) and more than a resounding artistic standstill (in the series "Sei come la mia moto" the loop was way better).

14 tracks that return to the standard "Cherubinian" length, I'll spare you the piece-by-piece descriptive list, which besides being pure boredom and merely descriptive exercise, rather detracts from the overall understanding of the album, moreover Lorenzo himself comments on the album track by track and the collaboration with Rick (words easily retrievable through a search engine and not only) so I'll move on to my impressions.

From the first listen the clear subtractive and minimalistic imprint of the producer emerges, who removes everything that can be stripped down in at least half of the tracks. It's surprising and unusual for a Jovanotti album to find that its most substantial part is purely Folk, nothing more than voice and guitar, with silence in the background, a simple melodic line closer, and words in full focus, lots and lots of words. This "Folk-Rap" version is somewhat spread throughout the album, but toward the end, it reaches its tangible peak, "Affermativo" is one of those rare tracks that, devoid of trimmings, really reach where they want to go. Lorenzo's words strike very deep chords, almost inviting the silence of listening, they seem to slow down until they pause the body from any action, urging the sharing of a point of view, some thought process around change, freedom of expression, or freedom from fear.

If this stylistic trait becomes the first and most notable element of discontinuity, it is still not enough on its own to globally define the album because the remaining non-acoustic half is a rather heterogeneous whirlpool of sounds and styles, where I might highlight perhaps the most beautiful reggaeton-funky track in history "In Italia," a piece with a groove worthy of the best Jovanotti, moreover the only track on the album featuring a played drum and the only truly choral piece of the album. The courage to dare is not lacking, alternating wandering voice with minimal synth carpets adrift, or between reggae and industrial passing through the most intimate dancefloor track you might listen to while star-gazing, because beyond the relative subjective taste in choosing arrangements, which at times (especially "Amoremio") raises some fair questions, it is undoubtedly Lorenzo's most introspective and courageous work.

The artistic journey that had stopped with the album Safari resumes abruptly here, giving form and much space to the songwriting imprint somewhat abandoned after the success of "Fango" in 2008 (multi-awarded for its lyrics), and starting again from certain places of memory and childhood, mentioned in the lyrics and in the video of the title track, Jovanotti's journey this time doesn't take him elsewhere, as with L'Albero to Cuba, for Capo Horn to Latin America, Il Quinto Mondo – Africa, or recently and at the dawn of the early Jova in the USA... here we are "In Italia," with all the open issues of today (the Mediterranean first) that partly recall stories from the past, of kids playing in a courtyard, of spaces and ideas to be dusted off, of a lack of fear of the different as much as the unwavering Jovanottian faith in love (after all, he really really really believes in it, and there's no room for any doubt about that here). In short, the underlying thematic lines are then ritualistic, the different thing is how he has stripped himself more than ever, in this, Rubin has masterfully performed his work, giving us a truly intense Lorenzo as an author.

Without courage, there is no artist (go tell the U2 please!!) See the last track, here for the first time words make way for a lot of music, "Fame" seems like an impromptu jam session, with winds and guitar intertwining, and in the end a Fender is left alone with its stratocaster-like notes that slowly find rest after more than 8 minutes, which cannot but satisfy.

And so, long live the Freedom to go back to making Rap perhaps accompanied only by a 12-string guitar and/or to continue experimenting by intertwining sounds and rhythms, as well as to shout Vivaaaaa as much as possible, as if we were toasting with yet another mug of beer (perhaps next time we'll set a maximum threshold for the indiscriminate use of vocoder).