Litfiba
12/5/87 (Aprite i vostri occhi)

“Many have long been used to considering Italian music as a derivative phenomenon, as a sterile and unproductive imitation of sound schemes born and developed abroad. Litfiba are here to demonstrate that there are modern realities in Italy, capable of marrying the innate Mediterranean taste for melody with the expressive power of certain elegant and refined rock. Cosmopolitan and fascinating, Litfiba assertively affirm their uniqueness, sweeping away unjust prejudices; if one day a 'new Italian music for the world' takes hold, this album will inevitably have to be considered its indispensable starting point.”
(from the liner notes by Federico Guglielmi to "Desaparecido", 1985)

This is the enthusiastic calling card introducing one of the most innovative bands of the 80s, actually already active in the Tuscan-Florentine circuits since 1980 and noted with suggestive EPs like "Guerra" (1981), "Litfiba" (1982) or the soundtrack "Eneide di Kripton" (1983).
The band name should imaginatively represent the identity card of the group's origin (Località ITalia FIrenze via de' Bardi, that is where they met to play). The project, happily coordinated and four-handed, features as vocalist one of the most charismatic and intense (though, excuse me, it wasn't very difficult) Italian front-men, Piero Pelù, a local cross between the indocility of Iggy Pop, the poetry of Jim Morrison, the cerebral torment of Ian Curtis, and the histrionic athleticism of David Lee Roth. Beside him, the virtuoso keyboardist Antonio Aiazzi, mainly responsible for the band's evocative and arcane sounds. While Ghigo Renzulli's guitars economically “limit” themselves to scratches, roars, fabulous streaks in the keyboard fabric, equally fundamental is the contribution of bassist Gianni Maroccolo, who gives capital importance to his instrument, creating a grayed and agile sound, in delightful accord with the prevailing trends in the new wave of the period. The diamond tip of the formation is Ringo De Palma, a young and sensitive drummer equipped with great capabilities but above all always tense towards the search for the original and the innovative.

This remarkable group is responsible for two of the great masterpieces of Mediterranean rock-wave, first with the small but decisive debut "Desaparecido,” already in search of European influences shaken with socio-political branded lyrics or all-Italian poetic grace; secondly with "17 Re,” a double album and a milestone for the entire local dark/post-punk movement. The work is preceded and followed by a triumphant world tour starting from Melbourne and concluding with the grand homecoming, that is, the final leg in Florence, during which this live recording is made. Not just a live album, but an unmissable greatest hits of the two previous LPs, "12/5/87 (aprite i vostri occhi)” shows without ifs and buts the qualitative and creative peak of the Tuscan group. The meeting with fans becomes for the four an irresistible pretext to engage with renewed interest with their history and their work, of which we perceive the pride and love it arouses in the members. The tracks are almost explained, extended and shared with the audience, trying to contextualize every word, to find meaning in their craft and thought together with hundreds of admirers. Pelù is fragile and sincere, the true autobiographical protagonist of the pieces, he sings what he wrote, and we perceive him in his suffered authenticity. He does not seek irony or easy demagoguery, because he (still) doesn’t need it, he only feels like a pack leader who, like a good shaman, must confess his visions, which he still feels belong to everyone: The next song is dedicated to all the dogs that are here with us… because we all need… tenderness!.
Thus, for example, the anthem of "Cane” begins, punctuated by the angular bass of a starring Maroccolo (who often is entrusted with the opening of the tracks and the input in the sound textures) and trampled by Renzulli's skittish guitar, brilliant in effectively dosing his interventions, proving more than welcome at each entry. Aiazzi becomes the undisputed master of a song that is completely sublimated in this new version: the wonderful "Tziganata,” a wild gypsum anthem easily lovable to fall for. In a few minutes, the track explains to us what Litfiba was and will never be again; Pelù urges the crowd to follow him in his vocal exploits, hearing “bravi-vai Ringo” shouted by a simple, poorly recorded, sparse but highly engaged audience. The keyboards weave a timeless melody, slipping away from grasp at every expectation: Eva dances on fire, the night when hatred was born whispers the leader as the piece starts, speeds up, begins to be shouted, stopped, resumed, with a majestic crescendo leaving both listener and spectator mouth agape. That evening’s Litfiba seemed capable of doing everything, of saying everything, even bold political outbursts (the emblematic "Ferito” opens like this “the next song we dedicate… to your dear friend… former Minister of Defense… Giovanni Spadolini!” -crowd’s roar-“who got himself out of the way”- crowd in a frenzy-“thank you, Giovanni!!”). Among the grooves alternate sublime pacifist, anti-militarist and anti-rhetoric invectives (“respect my ideas” intones "Apapaia”) to howled celebrations of solitude ("Re del silenzio”) or glorious exalted and deranged love-songs ("Resta”). Between the hypnotic "La preda”, among stiletto wounds and “mists from a light body," and the unexpected reprise of the old and seemingly calmer "Luna,” is enclosed in more than a quarter of an hour the artists' farewell to the admirers with the kaleidoscopic suite of "Vendetta.” This is Italian theatricality, it’s the manifesto of what we feel, our being angry yet often passive, individualists but ready to outbursts of solidarity, joy, and violent energy.

One is astonished when the magical "Ballata” takes us away to a dream, that of a great band, which after a few months and the hasty conclusion with "Litfiba 3” of what is remembered as “the trilogy of power,” ends a golden era never approached again. There remains a regret for what were young and beautiful hopes, like Guccini’s heroes. Another important live album ("Litfiba Pirata”) will indeed be the watershed between this highly original era of experimentalism, European emancipation from the Anglo-American dominance, incredible pursuit of refined emotions, and delirious defenses of personality.

I met Pelù when we were leaving a Patti Smith concert, waiting under a bar for the rain to end to go home. We talked about that evening, and I reminded him of this live. And he replied: “Eh, sure, I've grown old too”...