Le Orme
Florian

"Chamber rock"... lately, there's been a lot of talk about it in progressive circles, bands stripping away electric guitars, electronic keyboards, and drums filled with every embellishment to rediscover traditional and classical music instruments. And again, the proverbial fly in the ointment emerges: hadn't Le Orme already done it in 1979, right with this album?

I don't think that here in Italy we truly realize the importance of the group in question, and especially the reason that makes Le Orme so important and special, which is their pioneering spirit. Some prefer to lump them together with other Italian progressive rock groups (PFM played better, Francesco di Giacomo sang better, Area were more politicized), who, incidentally, every time they reunite and perform some concert, they immediately get at least a spot on momma Rai, unlike the Venetian group, which, even today being a key player in the most important international prog festivals, doesn't even make it to the regional news, despite the considerable success the band enjoyed in the '70s. Yet it was them, with their "Collage" (even before the Concerto Grosso by New Trolls), that opened the doors in Italy to symphonic prog, and they were also the first to realize that the prog era was over (surely someone remembers the song "E' finita una stagione," b-side of "Canzone d'Amore") and to turn their attention to a drier sound, a true Italian new wave ante litteram, elegant and rich in melody. None of the "big ones" had thought about it: PFM had devoted themselves to jazz rock reaching Area, but in a less politicized area, Banco with "Come in un'ultima cena" remained substantially anchored to the sound of the early '70s, just a little more dynamic; Le Orme of "Se io Lavoro" (just to cite a track as an example) hybridized "Berlin" style synth-pop bases with the melodic taste of Italian tradition, almost foreshadowing certain things of Battiato after the era of the white boar.

We, with our short memory, have practically ended up forgetting even the last, very precious transformation of Le Orme at the end of the 1970s, with the drastic decision to turn "anima e core" to their excessive passion for classical music and Italian folk. It is said that in the two years between "Storia o Leggenda" and "Florian," the quartet (already for two years the historic trio had been joined by Germano Serafin, one of the finest guitar talents Italy has ever known) had temporarily split, and while Aldo Tagliapietra and Germano Serafin had retreated to the mountains of Cadore each bringing a cello and a violin respectively, Toni Pagliuca and Michi dei Rossi had returned to the Benedetto Marcello Conservatory.

"Florian," the result of this sort of spiritual retreat, would positively surprise many and still today sounds divine in all its (often even naive) beauty. The instrumentation and the new image of the group immediately stand out (the latter fully appreciable only in the photograph within the gatefold of the original vinyl): Pagliuca leaves the synths and the Hammond to sit at the piano, the harpsichord, and the harmonium; Dei Rossi moves from the drums to a set of assorted percussion (vibraphone, xylophone, marimba, conga, and various trinkets), Serafin embraces the acoustic guitar and violin, while the good Tagliapietra contributes his very precious voice, classical guitar and cello. In short, the four present themselves as a small orchestra in Piazza San Marco, which is why the name "Florian," like the oldest Café of the Serenissima, and the reason for the opening instrumental, bearing the same title as the album: five minutes of pure gentleness made music, light notes, quick touches of string instruments, melodies bouncing from the piano to the xylophone, a beautiful central opening entrusted to the piano, "refrains" full of joy. The result might then also be a little naive, with the violin and cello sometimes not perfectly in tune, but it doesn't matter: the music drags us like a daydream through the alleys and bridges of Venice, for which it makes a highly effective soundtrack.

Beautiful, at this point, is the contrast with "Giaffa," the first of the sung tracks, a largo with Baroque flavor where the broad notes of the strings are counterpointed by a superb melody entrusted to the vibraphone. Tagliapietra's precious voice, in this context, stands out wonderfully, as do Pagliuca's lyrics, which in a few lines describe the strength and fragility of Israel. The lyrics are definitely a strength of the album (as well as of all Le Orme's production in the 70s, one of the very rare Italian prog groups boasting singer-songwriter level lyrics, surely the only one that, from this point of view, cannot be accused of pretentiousness or arrogance). "Il mago" opens with a wonderful introduction for bouzouki and strange percussive sounds, then evolves into a melody strongly rooted in the Italian folk tradition, not far from certain things by Branduardi, perhaps slightly less flamboyant. "Pietro il pescatore", despite the beautiful chord changes and the soft, almost mysterious atmosphere, is the track that perhaps convinces the least, and the one where Serafin's violin drags irritatingly. It doesn't matter: the pair of tracks that follows, in fact, is among the most beautiful things Italian pop has ever produced.

"Calipso" is not a Caribbean dance, but a very delicate ballad where, in one of Pagliuca's most beautiful lyrics (Poiché riconosco la tua canzone / e il disegno sul tuo telaio / a te rivolgo, dolce Calipso, questo mio pensiero...), Ulysses' immense homesickness is put in the mouth of every immigrant. Simple and admirable intertwining of guitars, poignant passages of violin and piano, the great melancholy hidden in Tagliapietra's voice build a track that truly moves. Equally beautiful is "Fine di un Viaggio", probably the most famous track of the album, where the verses, with meditative and almost suffering music, contrast with the march-like pace of the joyful refrain, which at the end of the track transforms into a wonderful liberating and enthralling coda.

The dances close with "El Gran Senser", another instrumental, less organic and successful compared to "Florian", but with great timbre work, especially in the fascinating and oriental-like central section, where the group ventures into delightful sound experiments (above all an interesting Pagliuca extracting a thousand sounds from a prepared piano).

With their usual courage, Le Orme would bring this music in concert among the "Travoltini" in discotheques across half of Italy, even garnering considerable success (this is their last album to enter the Italian top 10), hence Italy decided to forget about the Mestre group. And if finally there were a way to remedy such recklessness?