Laghetto
Sonate in bu minore per quattrocento scimmiette urlanti

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An album by Laghetto has the power to reconcile you with a hardcore scene that often exaggerates certain attitudes and, in any case, takes itself too seriously: I'm not referring here to a specific aspect among the many possible (I don't even think of reducing such a fragmented reality to a single entity!), but to that aura of solemnity and superiority that surrounds all the adepts of the sacred circle of noise. Laghetto undermine this vision from within, mercilessly showcasing its most questionable aspects, criticizing them relentlessly, all while fully embracing - and here lies the beauty - in a more coherent manner than anyone else, the founding principles of hardcore. Which, of course, are self-production and music as art and a means of communication and protest, never of business. How? Not directly, of course: it would be stupid as well as too easy; instead avoiding, with great skill, the most inflated clichés. Entitling an album "Sonate In Bu Minore Per Quattrocento Scimmiette Urlanti"; creating for it some of the most original and effective artwork and packaging ever seen, at least in Italy; bringing together as many as fifteen independent labels for its production; naming their own songs Proud of my pappagorgia, Armageddon in casa Lapenta, L'odore dei pomeriggi (quando li butti via); dedicating a track to the memory of the great Carmelo Bene (Requiem for CB), who, as genius as he was, I do not think he understood hardcore; crafting the usual lyrics between nonsense and humor (sometimes dark: "La mamma aveva un figlio di nome Samuele. Adesso ne ha un altro, uno nuovo, e si chiama Gioele" is the otherwise "ghost" track of Gioele stai attento - you remember the Cogne murder case, right?).
In short: they do not use slogans and hackneyed forms of punk dialectics to express those feelings of contempt that are (rightly) dear to many in the scene, and rather than writing yet another pointless and predictable song against Berluskoni, they write a song like Uomo pera, and the result is greater. I assure you. In any case, I do not at all agree with this recent general trend to brand the bolognese with adjectives like "crazy," "out of their minds," or worse "demented"; because it is clear and evident that Laghetto is not at all a trash band, neither involuntarily nor out of necessity (as often happens, especially among those groups that believe themselves to be "politicized"), but rather Tuono Pettinato (the band's visual representative, the one who plays a fake guitar) and his associates have very well-functioning brains on their shoulders and they use this language in the same way they use their heightened theatricality on stage and in interviews, namely to pursue a damn concrete goal. To name one: at benefit concerts of all sorts and degrees, their presence is rarely missed. Take note. And this is why they can afford to spoof the untouchable and unreachable Carla Bruni of Quelqu'un m'a dit (they even managed to tear this apart), or to give life to a song like S.S. Napoli football players 1982-1989, which is a list of names taken from the roster of the Campania team of that period preceded by a "normal" lyric transcribed in the booklet in hilarious macaronic English, or to peacefully and whenever possible discuss their proverbial ninja-core, all the while maintaining an unassailable credibility. We who have known Laghetto for years, even before those many who (fortunately) now, only now, sing their praises (to the point where we don't even have to explain how the music is - for that, see the reviews of the demo and the promo, as well as the split with Magazine Du Kakao and the interview), know this well.
If you still do not own the delightful object under review and - braggarts - have no intention of procuring it, then you could proceed - not before buying and avidly reading an issue of "Cronaca Pera" ("Weekly of highly plausible stories and nude women at random") - with seppuku and bid farewell to your hardcore dreams.