Le Orme
Uomo Di Pezza

I was five years old and lived door-to-door with my grandparents. Being so close, visiting them was an everyday occurrence. My uncle, who at that time didn't yet lead an independent life, would often listen to music comfortably in his armchair. Like any child my age, I used to listen to Cristina D'avena, but those strange sounds coming from my uncle's turntable struck me to the point where I went to ask him what he was listening to.

"Hi Bruno" (as a kid, I used to call relatives by their first names... I still do that!), "what are you listening to?", and he replied: "le Orme", I: "....." Needless to say, I remained silent, but as soon as I turned around, I saw the album cover he was listening to on the table, and it was a revelation. "Is this the album you're listening to?" I asked, moving the cover in my hands, and my uncle: "Yes". So, I settled between his knees and began to ask him a barrage of questions (after all, like any child...!) "Who is it? Does this monster sing on the album?" I asked, pointing to the "Garbo Di Neve" (the name given by Walter Macmazzieri, the artist of the cover. Initially, it was born as a painting, then was used as the image for this album), and my uncle replied "No, the performers are actual people, and this is just a drawing".

At one point, my uncle stood up to flip the record side (he had vinyl, of course...!) and started "Breve Immagine". Even from the first keyboard notes, I was petrified, imagining the moon, darkness, and the sea, because indeed, those are the very visions one has while listening to those 15 seconds of introduction, visions different from one another. Balancing between dream and reality, I was once again transported to another dimension by the sweet and spectral voice of Aldo Tagliapietra singing: "Light games reflect, the fires in the water. Soft colors blend, inside my eyes", but then when he suddenly shouted "It's a very sweet, beautiful image. It's an image I always want to be mine" it was a rude awakening for me, but I wasn't yet fully back in reality.
Then I asked my uncle "but is it a woman singing?", I asked this question because back then Aldo's specific, fine, and graceful voice really seemed like a woman's voice to me, but my uncle replied "No no no, it's a man". A couple of minutes passed and with attention, I turned again to the magical cover, flipped it over and saw the back. The back part struck me more than the front. I was enchanted by the dove peeking behind a kind of chimney, and especially I was even more struck by the detailing of this bird's eye. This dove with the gloomy appearance, I associated it with the musical atmosphere of the previously mentioned "Breve Immagine" (this track was, and still is my favorite of the whole album).

In "Una Dolcezza Nuova", the opening track, there is a verse that says: "The sky cries on the windows, the storm is in your heart...", well that "crying of the sky on the windows" I correlated with another image on the back cover, the red sun with a hole and a tear falling. Later on, over time I began to understand that the cover reflected the theme of the album (in fact, le Orme were inspired by Macmazzieri's painting), which now as a teenager, I understand. It tells of a sexual assault. Clearly, at five years old, I couldn't know anything. Another figure I correlated with a piece from the album is the naked girl to the left of the dove, and with her arms turned towards herself, it seems she gestures to shoo the bird away. I assigned this image to "Figure Di Cartone" (yes, it's indeed the track with that adrenaline-pumping keyboard solo!), but I don't remember why I did it. Upon reflection, the image of this naked girl trying to shoo away the dove can refer to the verse: "jealous elves are watching her" from "Gioco Di Bimba". Ah... "Gioco Di Bimba" was the first song in my life to give me chills. The famous keyboard phrase has, from the first time I heard it at five years of age, never ceased to give me great emotions.

My "little story" of how I got to know "Uomo Di Pezza" ends here, but one thing is certain: this album for me was a springboard into the vast sea of music, giving me the opportunity to detach myself from the children's songs of Cristina D'avena (well, after all, I was 5 years old, damn it, and if I wasn't listening to Cristina, what was I supposed to be listening to?.... le Orme?!).