Litfiba
Desaparecido

Poo is the result, alas not even too obvious, of an almost unavoidable series of factors.

One of them is undoubtedly the dish we consume; presumably, by introducing feces into our mouths, we'll find more or less the starting substance at exit. However, sometimes it happens that by introducing something truly exquisite, delicious, and succulent, it eventually turns into crap: this is somewhat the case with our local Litfiba.

This amusing and malodorous allegory serves to make one thing clear right away: it hasn't always been a group about "elettromacumbe" or strange Tors. Litfiba were much more in the beginning, especially considering their nationality. It was time, and a long commercial digestion, that turned them into poo.

"Desaparecido" is the band's first official album consisting of Antonio Aiazzi (keyboards), the late Ringo De Palma (drums), Gianni Maroccolo (bass), guitarist Ghigo Renzulli, and charismatic singer Piero Pelù. The sound was rather anomalous for the environment they were in: a sort of dark wave, electronic post-punk (the drums sound like MIDI), dark, evil, sulfurous ("La Preda" literally stinks of blood), melancholic, and heavily keyboard-infused. Minimal guitars, very present bass, powerful voice, theatrical and decently effect-laden.

A record that was really hard to expect in Italy.

The opening is entrusted to the beautiful and gothic "Eroi nel Vento", a track with a great atmosphere thanks to the skillful alternation of syncopations and relaxations, featuring one of the most beautiful and evocative lyrics in Italian rock: the Litfiba were very polished in this regard, it was a very sharp weapon for them. This is not so obvious in our country, where the stereotype of bland, if possible, sappy and sentimental songs reigns. There's room for romance in "Desaparecido", but with a bitter, perverse, and conflictual flavor: "Lulù e Marlène" for instance narrates the love-hate relationship between two people who want each other, but not enough. Two people who waste each other, empty and despise one another, with great passion and without escape. Even more erotic and conflictual romanticism is described in "Tziganata":

"Eva danced on fire
smell of sex around her
the night in which hatred was born"

Two minutes of dreary melancholy, synthetic like the sounds of which it is composed, passionate like the vocal line of a highly inspired Pelù. Speaking of inspiration, who knows if the sounds of "Pioggia di Luce", that rarefied eastern atmosphere, that sort of electronic and minimal gamelan, intended to be a nod to Peter Gabriel, who proposed a similar solution some time before in "San Jacinto". Of course, with due caution and proportion. The far more personal, however, is the famous title track: a piece full of notable syncopation, whose exotic fillings exponentially emphasize the message. The same goes for the beautiful "Instanbul", the most fitting in the '80s context of the entire lot. The woman's voice reciting (in Turkish) the opening prayer is a clear and tangible sign that this band didn't compose leaving anything to chance, showing a will to be as foreign-influenced as possible, as cosmopolitan musically, while maintaining a recognizable underlying Italianity. The track is relaxed, wide, a wonderful melancholic air is breathed thanks to the beautiful keyboard and interpretative work. And in the central break, on the second tempo change where Pelù recites:

"Instanbul, sacred stronghold for the crossing of human races will burn!
Dark forces in Instanbul..."

the emotion is at its peak.

Despite its simplicity and linearity, Litfiba managed to carve an enormous piece of music as feeling and as importance in the Italian rock scene, which at that point had found a new benchmark. The conclusion of such an energetic album couldn't but be entrusted to a highly energetic and impactful track: "Guerra". It starts with screams that clearly imply a reference to Nazism, with an imperative counting of numbers in German and then the order to fire. A song with an imperative and constant pace, relentless and dramatic, with synth pads coloring the desolate landscape resignedly as Pelù describes with his weary "it's war! it's war!", up to the conclusive crescendo, the apex of definitive destruction.

This is an important album for three reasons: first, it can show skeptics the true value of Pelù and company, showing that the dish I mentioned at the start was much tastier, explaining why the nostalgics of early Litfiba are so despairing at hearing the abominable trash they have been serving us from "Spirito" (included) onwards; second, it can show skeptics the value of Italian music, which hasn't always produced dung and decay but has occasionally offered pearls of sensation; third, it is a milestone of Italian rock, which paved the way for a new course and new mindset approach in our peninsula.
Yes, it is not a revolutionary album for music history (new wave in the mid-'80s... we're always the last to get things!), but it's of significant importance and must be listened to at least once in a lifetime.