L'invasione degli omini verdi
8 bit

The 20-year career milestone is an achievement that always needs to be honored, regardless of the activity, the praises, and the infamies collected along the way, even if reaching it in top form is by no means a given.
Because two decades are long, and there’s a big difference between having spent them painting canvases, writing novels, treading golf courses, and having stood on the most important national and international stages on the wave of that good old punk-hardcore, which has gathered more faithful followers than victims, managing to ride it until seeing it turn into foam on the shoreline. These are experiences that wear down both the body and the spirit.

This is the case for L'invasione Degli Omini Verdi, a historic Brescia-based combo, deserving, among other things, of having carved out a small space within the mainstream scene of our country with the album "Nel nome di chi?" from 2010 and, unwillingly, having attracted the attention of censorship from the main national publishers because of the numerous strong themes addressed in the record (one over all, pedophilia in the clergy denounced with the single that gives the title to the album).

Their last musical effort dates back to 2015 and is actually a double-CD compilation titled "16 anni dopo," an unusual initiative for an independent band but nonetheless useful for taking a breather, rearranging, and re-recording the most successful songs in their repertoire, thus refreshing their live appeal rather than providing a handful of new songs which, to be honest, are not exactly memorable.

The good news is that "8 bit" was released last February 22nd, the bad news is that the band presents their eighth album without bassist Giacomo Moretti, immortalized on the Omini's Facebook page during the recording phases but absent from the usual promotional photos.
While waiting to understand the line-up that will lead them back to live performances, the new release sees them renewing their partnership with the indiebox label, founded in 2004 by the band’s drummer Maurizio Vinci, a sort of Brett Gurewitz from our parts.

The album opens with "Credimi," a punk-rock track like those Omini Verdi have accustomed us to over the years. Fast, technically well executed, with that Californian double kick drum that encourages keeping time, and where everything is in its right place.
The song's lyrics represent a declaration of intent from Ale: the piece we have just put on playback represents an absolutely necessary compositional experience for him ("I would die if I couldn't express myself by staining blank sheets with thoughts").
The same can't be said for the instrumental work, yet the song’s almost textbook structure will be appreciated and somehow excite lovers of the '90s punk-rock formula.
It's the kind of stuff you'd crowd surf to, with that aforementioned double kick drum.

We continue with "La nostra storia," through which the Lombard band again takes on the task of accounting for their career similarly to what they did in an old song titled "98," but from the vantage point that only another 14 years of adventures across Europe could give them.
Compared to the opening track, the arrangements immediately sound more refined and bring to mind the glory of albums like "My Republic" by Good Riddance, just so we're clear. Of course, due proportions must be made, in the end, the fog of Brescia certainly doesn't produce the melodic hardcore like the sun of Santa Cruz.
However, this represents something new in the Omini Verdi’s record (not exactly the cheerful tough guys of the scene) that should absolutely be welcomed with great enthusiasm, even looking to the future. Even the lyrics, compared to "98," are more optimistic: the guys no longer distance themselves from critics, preferring instead to embrace those who have stayed under the stage all this time.
A true homage to their fans that cannot leave them indifferent.

"Rinuncia" is the third track and is the one that most seems to resume the conversation interrupted in 2013 with the last album of new songs "Il banco piange."
The themes are those of social injustice towards the weaker and the commitment that each of us, in our small way, can and must put in to change the inertia of a wheel that spins less and less in favor of ordinary people.
In practice, the themes are those dear to Omini Verdi from the beginning.
However, in all honesty, as with several compositions from the past, the songwriting appears uninspired, at times banal, and in this, Ale and company prove themselves to be repeat offenders: a band capable of playing technically very well and which in its recent history has managed to wink at the more radio-friendly alt-rock genre with a certain personality must be able to express itself in a way that matches the music they play.
A true shame, because the track sounds like Rise Against in their first mainstream approach and this could have been an opportunity to successfully reach the ears of those more inclined to something more pop.

We then arrive at "Il funerale della verità," the fourth track on the list.
A short, fast, gutsy track! 1.46 of skate-punk/hardcore, with a riff introducing the verses that one might want to write after listening to any Motörhead album and downing half a bottle of Jack Daniel's.
The intelligence of this piece lies in transforming the anger of the message (as above, this time, however, through a more intimate approach absolutely capable of hitting the mark) into melody through some interesting rhythmic guitar passages that recall the early days of Venerea and all those cool things they used to do in Sweden back then, not the least Atlas Losing Grip during Rodrigo's tenure.
Exactly the type of track that should never be missing from any album of any band with a markedly melodic hardcore vocation.

The second half of "8 bit" opens with "Vorrei," a song that sounds a lot like Bad Religion both because of the guitar intro and for the backing vocals in the pre-chorus and, as far as the lyrics are concerned, features an Ale evidently inspired by routine and disillusionment, increasingly common ailments of our time once we reach 30: "Not distinguishing days from weeks/once the rain is over, the storm begins" and also "ambition undeniable sign of a generation born sterile."
A very fine track, on the first listen, one would expect more from the chorus but once digested, everything sounds absolutely homogeneous.
The best of the bunch so far.

"Un nuovo giorno" is the track you encounter as you proceed down the list and is probably the most suitable for sing-alongs at concerts.
It's an extremely enjoyable rock song, one that's pleasant to listen to thanks to its pretty catchy initial riff and the arpeggios on the first three strings accompanying and supporting the verse.
If the previous one is the most artistically appreciated piece, this is undoubtedly the most cheeky, in the good sense of the term.

This brings us to the single that anticipated the album release with a video inspired by the nostalgic world of arcades, named "Arcade Boyz."
Honestly, a publicity stunt without equal at these levels, I don't mean in terms of fame, but reputation: the track itself represents what is classically drawn from the Californian-style punk-rock/hc cauldron, while still sounding fresh and engaging in its own way. What doesn’t convince is its promotional nature (the piece was commissioned by the Arcade Boyz, a duo of YouTubers known for their reaction videos and featured in the music video itself, to be used as a new jingle for their channel) which, especially at the lyrical level, feels a bit out of place in the tracklist of such an album.
It flows by harmlessly but, unfortunately for it, certainly not unnoticed.

Now it's the turn of "Fine," which as the title suggests, lowers the curtain on the album with its hybrid of melodic hardcore and pop-punk, see No Use For A Name from "Hard rock bottom" onwards. This is the type of track that makes purists angry and has made the fortune of several bands on the Fat Wreck circuit and similar, helping to exalt a California that would otherwise be remembered for the silicon-enhanced figures of Baywatch and the excesses of Hollywood and its superstars.
As happened with the second track, even the last on the album shows a glimpse of the sun, with the verse preceding the last refrain reading, "the end is a new evolution that over time you will understand."

Now, it would be nice to talk about a turning point for the career of a band that, since its inception, has always stood out for a certain coherence and integrity and has seldom strayed from its comfort zone in these 20 years. The feeling this "8 bit" album conveys at the end of listening is that the Omini Verdi have tried nonetheless, at least concerning sound and approach.

Very careful production, the result of continued field experience garnered by Giovanni, split between his role as the band's guitarist and that of sound technician/artistic director of the project, as well as a technician for the entire indiebox roster of bands.

The result is a short, heterogeneous album, but not in the negative sense of the term, that listens well even if it doesn't stand comparison with the more solid "Contro" and "Nel nome di chi?" and, given the excellent ideas shown (despite a somewhat so-so single), can certainly pave the way for a new invasion, hopefully a peaceful one.