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Tribute to Maurizio Arcieri.
This is a love story and telling love stories is difficult. Because love, when told, becomes trivial.
Like: she is about to leave, only five minutes remain before they part. He wants to kiss her but she is already elsewhere in her mind. She promises him that she'll return but he knows that they will never see each other again.
"Lies... Lies... She won't come back... She won't come back."
Maurizio Arcieri, known as Maurizio, is heartbroken over her. It's 1968 and Maurizio doesn't know that this little tune, largely borrowed from "A Whiter Shade of Pale," will be his only real success.
They will make him sing "5 minuti e poi" for his entire life, in all kinds of shows. And he will sing it and sing it again, even if he will try to play it down: "I was so young...".
Young but not very young, Maurizio, born in 1945 (some biographies say 1942), and not inexperienced either: he had already cut his teeth with the New Dada.
The New Dada lasted 3 years, from '64 to '67, and released only one LP "I'll Go Crazy" in 1967 - which isn't even that bad - and a handful of 45s between original pieces and covers of famous songs (from "Lady Jane" to "Gimme Some Lovin'" which becomes "T’amo da morire"). The New Dada are a hit: appearances on RAI in prime time, concerts at Piper and they even open for the Beatles in Italy (and there are those who go to those concerts to mainly hear them). But it ends soon, the group splits and everyone takes their path.
And these paths lead to strange places. For instance, Giandomenico Crescentini ends up with "Le Stelle Di Mario Schifani", others will join Celentano's clan, others will reach as far as Canada.
But we, here, are following Maurizio's path.
In short, it's worth betting on Maurizio: Maurizio is handsome, a sea of blond hair, girls go crazy for him, he knows how to hold the stage and has a personal and recognizable voice, although not very extensive. In short, he has it all. Everything he needs.
Everything except talent.
And the bet seems winning: "5 minuti e poi" is an immediate hit.
But it's just one hit.
Maurizio tries everything. From '69 to '74 he releases singles on singles, acts in a musical movie (Quelli belli siamo noi), participates in all kinds of shows, and even dabbles in fotonovelas. In 1973 he releases an LP "Trasparenze" that even has some progressive hints and then another "Maurizio" which includes a cover by The Who. He comes and goes from England, even makes some right friends like Vangelis and his brother Nico Papathanassiou.
But it doesn't work.
Maurizio, however, is not the type to accept disappearing. He has a handful of pieces composed by himself, new stuff, different from the usual. Now he just needs someone to publish it for him. It's 1975, and here dates become important, because this stuff is really "ahead".
Too "ahead", in fact, it will take him at least another two years to get those pieces published.
And so, Maurizio – while he waits – pulls out his ace: Christina.
Christina was thirteen when she set her eyes on Maurizio. He was already "Maurizio of the New Dada" and she was just a slightly chubby young girl, unripe but determined: she wanted him, "Maurizio of the New Dada". "It'll last as long as it lasts, even just a week" she thought; so when she spotted him at a party after a concert at the Piper, she didn't let him slip away.
And it didn't last a week, it will last a lifetime. And beyond.
Christina has become stunningly beautiful, a breathtaking beauty and two eyes, two eyes that always laugh. Sure, she can't sing, so what?
The Chrisma are born, they define their music as "sexy sound" (how imaginative!), they record two 45s: "Amore" and "U" (a cover of "Who" by Odyssey). Harmless music, despite Osibisa's rhythm section and the production of Nico Papathanassiou. But, as almost always for Maurizio and Christina, the image counts more than the music.
It's 1976, and they appear at the festivalbar and RAI doesn’t even realize what it's broadcasting.
Then will come the cut fingers and the safety pins, but that high slit, that suggested nudity, in the '76 black and white will create much more of a stir than any future provocation. Anyone who saw that festivalbar (being at least 8 years old), hasn’t forgotten it.
It matters little if Christina has stolen the scene from Maurizio. Because one thing must be said: he has always been a generous one. Like when he recorded, as the B-side of his single "Elizabeth", the song of a young musician in whom he believed and who no one cared for, a certain Battiato.
And while everyone is still there wondering whether Christina had panties on or not, they are already gone. They are in London. Because Polygram has decided to publish those famous tracks, the ones so "ahead".
It's '77, many things are happening and among them there's also "Chinese Restaurant".
New Musical Express, in its review, even invokes the Velvet Underground. The Chrisma are thrown into the punk pot, but there’s nothing of punk in “Chinese Restaurant”. There’s much more: new wave, synthpop, Berlin-era Bowie, Roxy Music, krautrock and all mixed and seasoned with a naïve and inherently pop aftertaste.
The Chrisma are not punk, they just dress like punks. They are Pop. Essential, necessary, irreplaceable, healthful Pop. Throughout all his transformations Maurizio Arcieri has always remained the same, even if he perhaps didn’t know it. He and Christina have written an important page of Italian culture and music. Naïve and precursors, naïve and irregular, the story of the Arcieri spouses is one that must be remembered.
And many (even themselves), in fact, make the mistake of taking that "punk" label seriously. Even when they show up at Discoring (they dance and move in playback, behind a group of dancers who are supposed to look like punk pogoers but instead look like the Village People in a hemorrhoid crisis), even when they pose for "TV Sorrisi & Canzoni", even when Maurizio pins a safety pin in his cheek. He is always the same one from “Cinque minuti e poi”.
This is their true trademark: having brought those poses and those sounds where no one wanted them. They have always been on the margins. That was their real world, they loved and hated — reciprocated — that glamour.
But Italy in '77 is not an easy place. The guardians of orthodoxy consider those harmless poses right-wing stuff and are waiting for them at the bend. Their concerts are booed and contested. During one of these protests, Maurizio, in reaction, cuts his finger.
A journalist from Corriere della Sera, present at the concert, will turn the cut finger into an amputated one. Everyone talks about it. They still talk about it today.
It's a double-edged sword: the name circulates but the concerts are canceled.
They return to London. They record "Hibernation", for some their masterpiece. But the real masterpiece is the idea of accompanying one of the pieces, "Aurora B", with images. Strong images: sex and death.
It's 1979, "Aurora B" is one of the first, if not the first video clip by an Italian band.
But the Top Tens remain distant. So here's another change: Chrisma becomes Krisma and even becomes a trio. Hans Zimmer joins the line-up. Not just anyone: he played with Ultravox and the Buggles and today is an acclaimed soundtrack composer. "Cathode Mamma" could be the right record.
The single "Many Kisses" will be their greatest success. They call it "Italo Disco", the next big thing, and there's also people like Gaznevada in it.
The Krisma leave Polygram (they also ditch Zimmer), CGD decides to spend on them. In reality, more than the money, Maurizio is tempted by CGD’s Milan studios, the only ones with a Solid State Logic mixing board.
CGD expects stuff like "Many Kisses", instead Krisma come up with a strange thing titled "Clandestine Anticipation", which - then - would be the subject of this review. But this is not a review, it's a tribute.
A long tribute, I know. Forgive me, but a story like that of Maurizio and Christina doesn’t fit in a couple of skimpy pages.
"Clandestine Anticipation" is a concept about water, part of the material was conceived in Holland with the collaboration (no less) of Martin Hannett. For those who write (for what it's worth) it's their best record. Not a masterpiece, since there are no masterpieces here, but one of the most representative and oblique records of that ephemeral season known as Italian new wave. However, CGD gets pissed. They spent a lot of money on those glossy videos, they even gave them the cover by Mario Convertino....
Carlo Massarini keeps sending those videos back to "Mister Fantasy", but to no avail: "Clandestine Anticipation" is a flop. To date their only album not re-released.
The two break with CGD and go to America where a couple of their tracks are playing in the right places. Atlantic moves and Arto Lindsay collaborates with them on the lyrics. Maurizio composes all the music with a reworked Casio keyboard, little more than a toy.
CGD doesn't take it well and takes the Arcieri couple to court for contractual default. Result, the two can't publish anything for almost two years, their album "Fido" is rejected. They will re-release it under the title "Nothing To Do With The Dog" for a small Venetian label, Franton.
But it's the swan song.
The subsequent "Iceberg" and, especially, "Non ho denaro" (published by Vasco Rossi's label, Bollicine) pass mostly unnoticed.
It's 1986.
Their recording adventure ends here. But not their story. There's still Krisma TV and their TV appearances; the New Dada reunion; all the times they will call him (again!) to sing “5 minuti e poi”, the DJ sets, “Pubblimania”, “Chiambretti Night”.
They are not forgotten: Subsonica wants them in "Amorematico" and Battiato (who has not forgotten Maurizio's generosity) in "Dieci Stratagemmi" and on the set of "Perduto Amor".
And then compilations, participations, tributes like the 2011 "CHyberNation" with a lot of emerging bands paying homage to them and a 96-page book.
You can't stop those two. You can't stop them.
I saw Christina again on a show a few months ago. I hadn't recognized her, but then I saw her eyes. They are still her eyes even if they no longer laugh.
The interviewer asked her about Maurizio, she answered even though she didn't feel like it: "bon, è andata così..."
And that's how it went: he was fine, they had just returned from the States, it looked like just a persistent flu. It was not flu. When they told him it was over, he wanted to be sedated. She did as he wanted, as she always had. It all lasted about fifteen days, she never took her eyes off him, as she had always done. Since she was thirteen.
Maurizio Arcieri really had everything. Everything he needs.
Everything except talent.
And the interview goes on, the photos, the tributes of colleagues, the chatter. Christina follows everything, but sometimes her gaze is lost. The eyes look elsewhere.
"Lies..., lies..., she won't come back..., she won't come back."
Goodbye Maurizio.
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