Locanda delle fate
Homo homini lupus

The most profound and lysergic regret for Locanda delle Fate during the seventies was walking too long, spending exclusive time and performing on small and medium stages, mainly covering famous progressive groups birthed north of the Channel rather than jumping on the train like Fornerie, Banchi, Trolli, Bronze Ballets, and various Perigees and diving into the recording fray. Only in 1977, when more well-known colleagues had almost run out of steam, did they manage to cling to the tail of the wagon, near the last stations of a genre already in twilight, illuminating the final miles of the journey with simple fireflies for a fleeting moment.
It is also true, as stated in some interviews, that Polydor, which did not want to present itself as the land of plenty, was no longer willing to attempt to replicate the success of this small treasure chest of rock made in Italy entitled “Forse Le Lucciole Non Si Amano Più,” and did not invest further in them despite having another project planned in 1978. Instead, they preferred to bet on other winning horses, focused on other genres more in vogue at that time, and the magic of the Fairies faded.

An infinity of other trains and a boatload of years passed before seeing this group again in the recording studio, and in the meantime, in the nineties, interest in old progressive outfits returned to knock on the door, allowing them to renew their wardrobe and present themselves to the public once more.
Perhaps too new, because if in 1999 progressive followers, those hardcore ones, who expected from “Homo Homini Lupus” generous suites, schizoid basses, and drums in eighty-one eighty-twos, could comfortably find peace, dust off and air out the 1977 record, lay the needle on it, and abandon themselves to nostalgic dreams of glory. Locanda delle Fate declared they wanted to aim, without tricks and gimmicks, at an ordinary pop-rock, not as a lure to attract the masses, but to avoid forcibly handing over the scepter of heir to the consecrated “fireflies” album to the new “wolf.” The operation succeeded, and the reviews were not negative.
It certainly is a well-crafted album; yes, the artisan and professional touch is felt, but it does not soar. Leonardo Sasso, the main voice of the first LP, is also missing, but he will return in about ten years for yet another resurrection of the group, where they will reinvent themselves, once more captured by the more experimental soul of the early days.
It must be said that some reckless shots over the barricade still arrive: the roughly one-minute interlude “Bandando” in the style of a patron festival march, “Plovi Barko” and “Certe Cose” composed of faint traces of blends between ambient, synth-pop, and new-age, while the philosophical title track (sung in Latin) and “Ojkitawe” are perhaps the only pieces attempting to emulate something that remotely resembles progressive. The concluding “Fumo” alternates in a versatility of genres, as if to encapsulate the summary of the record, finishing everything with intelligent guitar solos and riffs. For the rest, a lot of pop, certainly well-presented, and if we compare "the wolf" to the buckets of sewage released in Italy that year, it's pure gold.
Honestly, at the end of the day, I didn't understand much. I am neither disappointed nor satisfied. It is all so undefined and hybrid, yet simultaneously orderly in structure and voices. Did I like it? Meh... it passes the round with a generous (y)es but with marks not abundantly above the passing grade. You can feel there's still class to be sold, they play skillfully, but if I listened to it forty times, I already know it would leave different episodes as ephemeral. Nothing remains carved in me. A bit like stepping into an apartment with new furnishings impeccably squared and modern minimalist in design, clad in cold tints like the Enterprise and devoid of trinkets to add some light, warmth, and enthusiasm. Fine, nice furniture, excellent quality, but once out of the house, there isn't that particular style that captured me. There's nothing leading or compelling that makes me shout a miracle or: “Sticazzi, with some tweaks, it could almost become a marvel“.

Well… moreover, even the acclaimed Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, Orme, and Premiata Forneria Marconi left some less fortunate pop chapters immediately after their golden age of "big prizes and cotillion." Less immediately, however, came the time when Locanda delle Fate managed for yet another occasion to follow in the steps of its elder siblings, turning to pop (with caution and without banality, I repeat), and not to contradict themselves (I say with humor), they still arrived late. This time by two decades, but still welcome.

RATING: between 6.5 and 7