Le Orme
Orme

December 15, 2011, it has been exactly a year since I wrote my last review, and a lot has happened in a year. Among other things, I started taking singing lessons, although now I've had to temporarily suspend them (due to financial, logistical issues, and commitments of major concern). Today my (ex) friend Marco, nicknamed "Marcolino," turns 31, and I won't send him any birthday wishes... or maybe I will, perhaps tonight I'll change my mind, I know myself.

It's a tough period, one of those where misfortunes don't come in installments but all at once, with a lasting impact: I caught mononucleosis, and I'm still recovering; I won't be able to go to the gym for a month. I started working as a surveyor for the census but had to quit due to the illness (and I hope they don't fine me for what I didn't do). I took an exam scoring 30 and hope they'll accept it as valid (I'll know on Tuesday); I'm trying to study for the most difficult and substantial exam of the course, so much so that I'll be satisfied even with an 18 as long as I finish on time. I missed the Yes concert in Milan and Paul McCartney's in Casalecchio di Reno (practically in Bologna). I adore McCartney and the Beatles, ever since elementary school; it's a shame I haven't been able to see him yet (unlike Ringo whom I saw this summer). Then there's more, but I don't want to depress the readers.

This year, on the other hand, I saw Robbie Krieger and Ray Manzarek, Delirium (missing their opening for the Colosseum concert, with that old fox Dave Greenslade whom I adore even solo), Ian Paice and Tolo Marton in Sestri Levante (it was the second time I saw them), the Tagliapietra-Pagliuca-Marton trio, the new Orme led by Michi Dei Rossi, assisted by Jimmy Spitaleri (Metamorfosi) on vocals, and I caught a glimpse of Aldo Tagliapietra in Gaeta, managing to stop him just for an autograph (well... the whole Orme discography), a photo together, and a chat.
Yes... the Orme, the Orme who could have very well called themselves "The Orme with Michi Dei Rossi" (a bit like the New Trolls did by dividing the name into three different formations), or "The New Orme," but never mind, that's how it went... it's life!
I was supposed to go see the Orme with Marcolino in July 2009. We had arranged it a long time earlier (you had to do that with him) to take a weekend trip: we were supposed to visit Guccini at his home (as had been talked about for some time), and in the evening (or the next evening... I don't quite remember) go to Livorno (I think) to see the Orme in concert: at the time with Dei Rossi and Tagliapietra still together, in a trio with organist Michele Bon.
Needless to say, two days before going to see that concert, he sent me a rather rude message, inviting me to go meet Guccini and see the Orme on my own ("go yourself, I'm going out with my brother-in-law": a loser, let me tell you!) ...anyway... that's when I lost contact with that worm Marcolino; I still don't miss him.

I have one more exam left, I said, before graduating (yeah... come on... we know... the thesis, however poorly done, is just a formality, it's obvious that once you've taken all the exams you already have the diploma in your pocket), as long as they accept (on Tuesday) the exam I took on the 17th of last month; but let's take a few steps back, when there were still many exams left to take, practically almost all: to celebrate the 28 in "History of the Ancient Near East," a few days after I passed it, I returned to Genoa, to FNAC, and bought several cheap CDs, including the self-titled "Orme" by the Orme (exactly), recorded in 1990.
"History of the Ancient Near East" was the first exam I took, end of January 2009, only 6 credits, but it felt like I was drained from how much I studied, so much so that for at least two weeks, I stayed home recovering my soul, watching movies (many with Johnny Depp) all the time.

"Orme" by the Orme cost 5 euros (I might be wrong), the cheapest in the Italian progressive rock shelf: it was their first record I bought; the first record of theirs I bought, even though, to be honest, I had known their discography for some time: with the exception of "Canzone d'amore," released only on a 45 rpm and which I first heard on the radio, coincidentally, when I returned home from the "History of the Ancient Near East" exam).
At first, I listened to it once or twice, maybe not even entirely, but undoubtedly the listening happened in a distracted and not very attentive manner; I found it pleasant, starting with the first track "L'universo," with keyboards that sound like the '80s for a fleeting moment, but at the same time, they know they are "out of fashion," in a phase of stasis.
I picked it up again a few months later while studying for "History of North America" (which was then the history of the United States only, that of Canada was scarcely visible from afar even with binoculars), and that's when the enlightenment occurred: I was in my grandmother Carmela's apartment, not the one she had lived in since I knew her, but the one where she resided from April 2009 to August the following year.

I was morally well during that period, I remember an afternoon and evening in June (2009), two days before taking the exam, being in the TV room that magically transformed into a bedroom for me: it was a bedroom but hardly sleep-inducing, I don't know how much I hated that room, but certainly not a little! A lot of cars passed by at night, and I could hear them all... they made a racket that I still remember! I wanted to put a net from one railing of the sidewalks to the other, to stop them all... such hatred! Such anger! I couldn't sleep!
A much more pleasant noise was the one I heard by putting in the purely '90s stereo of the priest my grandmother served as a housekeeper: the CD in question was "Orme" by the Orme. I listened to "L'universo," it goes down smoothly like a pleasant but low-alcohol drink, same story for "Terra antica."
"Dublino addio" already moves me more, "Diventare" I find significantly more interesting even if at times predictable, just like "Ritrovare te," that follows a bit later, and is taken from "The Inner Teacher" by St. Augustine... it feels like going back to the times of those agonizing Saturday catechism afternoons or the much-detested religion lessons of elementary and middle school.
More interesting, even if not devoid of predictable spiritual parameters, is "Chi sono io?," a text that never struck me, even if it's from a book I appreciate ("The Prophet") by an author I adore (Kahlil Gibran).
The album ends with the bitter "L'indifferenza," a song of a lost love or rather over, pleasant but today I don't feel like listening to it again... I don't want to... I don't feel like getting depressed.

Only nine songs, with an average duration of about four minutes. Only two are missing, the ones that deeply moved me during that night of study: "25 maggio 1931" and the following "Se tu sorridi brucia il mondo."
The first is a song of a love encounter, sweet and light as this song can be, even if a bit lively... unfortunately, it falls into the pathetic nature of reggae, albeit saving it as if by magic is the frizzy-haired bard with the violin in one hand and the bow in the other, he bows and presents himself "Hello everyone, I'm maestro Angelo Branduardi," adds nothing more and lets the strings speak: pure magic!
This song is written by Cheope and Tony Pagliuca, Pagliuca writes the musical part, Cheope (even if not present in the credits) the lyrics.
Cheope, whose real name is Alfredo Rapetti (born 1961), is the son of the much more famous Giulio, known as Mogol. I believe the story in question speaks of Giulio Rapetti's parents, as he was born in 1936, so a few years before the birth of the noted lyricist and long-time deus ex machina of the unforgettable Lucio Battisti.
Cheope also signs "Dublino addio" and "Se tu sorridi brucia il mondo," while the remaining tracks are the work of Tagliapietra alone, except for "L'indifferenza" signed together with Mario Lavezzi who, with Alfredo Golino, will play the guitars in this album.

This is the last album with Tony Pagliuca on keyboards, already assisted by Michele Bon, who would become a permanent band member shortly thereafter.
If you wanted to categorize the Orme's discography, there would be six periods: the beat period, that is, the beat beginnings with "Ad gloriam" and the various 45 singles, most of which are included in "L'aurora delle Orme" (always disowned by the band); then the progressive period (the historical one) with all its ups and downs; the brief but interesting symphonic or chamber period ("Florian" and "Piccola rapsodia dell'ape"); the brief luckily new wave period in the 80s (with that horrible album called "Venerdì" also known as "Biancaneve"); the transition period and finally the return to the origins with a splash of new age, covering the last trilogy.
Here, the transition period I allude to is represented by just the album "Orme," this one: it is no longer new wave, we have entered the 90s, but it is not progressive: it stands on its own, distinct from both cardinal points.
It might be a coincidence, but last night I dreamed I was throwing CDs... just like that... without any apparent logical reason, among these were also CDs by the Orme: I had thrown them, and picking them back up I was even surprised to find the cases chipped! Maybe this dream was telling me I had to review, after a year, this album.

I wrote at the beginning of this review that a lot has happened in a year, but the most shocking was the departure of the already-mentioned grandmother Carmela, or better known as "Nonna Mela," as I got used to (and still do) call her since early childhood. Even though she probably didn't know the Orme, and if she did hear them inadvertently, she would undoubtedly have preferred listening to Nino D'Angelo (-.-'), I want to dedicate this review to her: without a reason... just because I miss her so much, that's all.

Goodbye, crazy old lady, I'll never forget you: thank you for everything.

P.S.: when I went to get the entire Orme discography signed, in Spezia, at the end of the concert, by Michi Dei Rossi, he didn't want to sign this album at first -evidently disgusted- to which I replied that I think it's a wonderful album, that their lowest point is the previous work ("Venerdì" or "Biancaneve"); he would answer me that "Venerdì" is a child of its time, but even though he would sign this self-titled "Orme," I didn't dare ask him why he hated this work: partly out of modesty. Looking closely at the credits, I noticed there were two drummers present in the studio, maybe that's the reason?

P.S. 2: On May 25, 2011, on my Facebook account, I posted the lyrics of "25 maggio 1931," tagging Tony Pagliuca: he seemed pleased with the mention.