L'Aura
Demian

Do not be deceived by the title of the single that opened the doors to this new creation of the eclectic Italian singer-songwriter, who two years ago gained fame in the Italian scene with her surprising debut "Okumuki" and her participation in the 2006 edition of the Sanremo Festival, where she presented the beautiful and unforgettable new piece "Irraggiungibile".

"It's not a fairy tale," it states, but it takes very little to contradict that: L'Aura returns with a wonderful album that restores the dreamlike dimension, the childlike digressions, and experimentation in the alternative rock field of her debut, amplifying its impact with resounding results. The feline voice of the hostess extracts from her vast technical repertoire contrasting sentiments: melancholy and joy, serenity and restlessness, skillfully capturing them in a long series of exceptional oxymorons, transcending the boundaries of human material perceptions and catapulting the listener directly into a whimsical environment outdated by 19th-century customs. Astonished by all this? It's really not the case: our L'Aura has always declared herself inspired by a multitude of musical (rock, extreme metal, and darkwave among her favorite genres) and extra-musical (nature and magic among others) sources and has already proven herself an exceptional avant-garde and a composer of melodies that are original and far from easily consumable (a rarity nowadays, especially in Italy), even though many continue to compare her to Elisa, now more than ever inclined to high chart positions.

It's a brief song with a folk flavor that introduces us to the arduous paths of "Demian": a few verses dedicated to the wind, recited in French, contribute to immediately recreating an enchanted atmosphere destined to break only when these sublime forty-three minutes of true auteur music fade into silence. After the ancestral prelude titled "Le vent", we can finally realize that L'Aura's fairy tale has begun, thanks to "One", which mixes enticing clear and dark tones, rock guitars, and piano notes, but also the sweetness of "È per te" and especially "Beware! The modern eye", which seals rock energy practically unknown to any colleague in circulation in an unforgettable refrain. The subsequent "I'm so fucked up I can barely walk", with its piano chimes and tearful violins, transforms the surrounding reality into a late 19th-century scene of Victorian perdition, reminiscent in every way of the most romantic songs of the stunning "Opheliac" by the fiery violinist Emilie Autumn. This sweet march within the labyrinths of the heart and soul then gives way to the brief and enchanted interlude "The river", promptly overshadowed by the irreverent "I just want to grow old", nocturnal and mysterious in atmosphere (you can even hear bell chimes in the background) and austere in demeanor, especially thanks to the superb drumming. With a childlike inflection in her voice, L'Aura playfully accompanies playful synths and sinuous percussion with a futuristic flavor in the aforementioned leading single: a bold choice to launch the album, an intriguing and fascinating experimental pop enriched with caustic effects and allegorical lyrics (also noteworthy is the ingenious music video recently released).

"I'm with you" is memorable instead for its romantic candor (in almost jazz tones) and for the usual but still emotionally stirring vocal virtuosity, while "Demian", assisted by a superb and orchestral crescendo, lays bare all the fragility of this adorable young lady, a new and underrated poetess of Italian music and a great performer.

There's barely time to recover from so much grace with the charming cabaret-rock of "Hey hey" and its acrobatic and unpredictable ups and downs before being swept away by the fairy-tale nursery rhyme and Carrollian imagery of "The doors", which also owes a debt to the American genius Emilie Autumn. If all these songs have charmed you and left a pleasant memory in your mind, you will agree with me in saying that "Turn around", the track that bids us farewell on this stunning album, is prodigiously profound and leaves one speechless: only tears can describe the absolute wonder of the lyrics dedicated to a departed loved one ("...turn your head and laugh like you used to when you lived here, turn your head and smile, I miss you mother..."), the timeless elegance achieved by the talent of this young prodigy.

"Okumuki" already hinted at an art destined to transcend any barriers imposed by the commercial target of the genre played, but this time it is indeed a case for a miracle to be declared and for this absolute masterpiece to be contemplated, praising the work of an artist who is now surprising everyone, becoming ever greater, inspired, experienced, romantic, and sophisticated. In a word, unique.