Lamb
5

Traveling, in reverse, through my past experiences, I must admit that the gravitational field of cosmic pessimism has always led me to orbit close to "dark" artistic forms, minimal and often redundant with tones (whether acoustic or visual) dark and/or leaning towards the blue of an approaching star on a collision course (unless I was deceived by the Doppler effect of feeling consoled by pain as an existential purpose).

The only exception was the exuberant metal parenthesis of the '80s of which (for reasons of contrapasso, I imagine) I have only retained the "Blakean" teaching that "the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom" but only in philosophical matters since the age for artificially losing one's senses has (alas)! inevitably waned. A parenthesis for which I hold affection for some sacred monsters (to whom I also owe my life) and have sympathy for certain dark attempts with sometimes improbable outcomes.

But an exception, contrary to the cliché, does not prove the rule unless it is contained within the framework of reference. It was 1996 when Lamb released their self-titled debut (known as "Debut" to many): too little glamour (and, no, this is not a contradictory statement, perhaps simply too elegant) to be categorized as a singularity by the music critic pundits, they ended up orbiting the trip-hop galaxy, whose center did not have a black hole but two, namely the binary system of Portishead-Massive Attack. I don't want to bore you with historical reconstructions, which start from a subjective point of view, but I just wanted to give you, even in their fragility, some coordinates, the when and the where (and anyway everything that can be known about Lamb is summarized in this brief announcement), because the points are others:

Non-essential but important point (The How):

Lamb is the most optimistic and sunny artistic form I have ever come to appreciate, and for this reason (at least in my frame of reference) they constitute a singularity: I mean that, when appropriately addressed also with an analysis of the lyrics, it is impossible not to feel sympathy for some of their flights of fancy driven by amazement at small things ("Bonfire" in "Fear of Fours"), ethereal joys ("Heaven" in "What Sound"), harmless fun ("Sun" in "Between Darkness and Wonder") contrasted with a certain type of "austere" formation ("Gorecki" in the aforementioned debut). One could even state that a fan of Lamb cannot be a bad person (here too with exceptions within the system like myself who is a confirmed jerk) and thus my being attracted to them constitutes proof of the fallibility of certain (meta)physics.

Essential point (The Why):

The reason that led them to release an album after years of silence (during which they split up and dedicated themselves to, among other things, excellent separate careers) is unclear: it is not believed to be money since they weren't that "established" in the showbiz world (except for having been a jingle for a couple of international and equally Italian commercials) and for this reason, not even popularity, so it should remain a rediscovery of their creative union. I am too cynical to fully believe this hypothesis but, as I said, I would forgive them everything (except a blatantly bad album) and so the question is "why should you listen to a new Lamb album?"

Well, playing the fool (which I do very well), I could respond because it is a Lamb album and after listening you might become (almost) all better people but the reality is because it is an intelligent album: of course, it might not be to everyone's taste, but anyone who tackles it in the end will have to recognize that it is not a band shrinking on their historic trademark, made of melodies emerging from syncopated rhythms and upheld by Andy's loops and Lou's charming vocal kaleidoscope, but also of people who have known how to look forward (confirming their pronounced experimental vein) but also turn around and admire a past that is still intense and noteworthy, not only linked to their career (together and solo) but also to their (willingly or unwillingly) musical galaxy. To say it is their most Trip-Hop album would still be nonsense, just as being deceived by the beautiful "Back to Beginning" and classifying it all as "electro-folk" in balance between Lou's solo records and Andy's Luna Seeds. The reality is a skillful amalgam where glimmers of Lamb appear but also (to the delight of certain "classic" critics) of, listen well, Portishead when certain more melodic concessions typical of the genre that developed on the continent (Hooverphonic, for example) rather than that in Albion do not emerge. 

A Lamb album, in short, but also not a Lamb album, in perfect agreement with the uncertainty principle, but perhaps only a record to be fond of while wrapping oneself in the past and at the same time getting lost in the future (whatever the meaning of the two terms) and this, I believe, is not little.

Mo.