Ligabue
Ligabue

THE REVIEW

If your musical knowledge is zero, you're an Mtv fanatic, and the only songs you know by Ligabue are "Happy Hour" and "Le donne lo sanno", well then, it's time to broaden your musical horizons a bit more.

Because it's undeniable that Ligabue, over the past ten years, has settled into a standard and repetitive musical composition level ("his songs all sound the same", many rightly repeat), but it's also true that Ligabue is no youngster, and his debut in 1990 was anything but pitiful, in fact, it was incandescent.

Discovered by Pierangelo Bertoli (who at one of his concerts even sings "Sogni di rock'n roll"), no longer a young man, Ligabue records his first album with a bit of the recklessness of a debutant and a bit with the desire to astonish. "Ligabue", the album most loved by long-time fans, is a healthy shake-up for Italian rock music of the time: guitars at the forefront, instantly recognizable riffs, entertaining and never banal lyrics, and a clear oxygen debt with the American folk-rock tradition of the early Eighties (the references to Springsteen are blatantly recognizable).
But this, confined only to this first album, is not a flaw; rather, it's a way to bring closer and unite, as much as possible, American tradition and provincial Italian stories. Before losing himself in praises to Elvis or singing the glory of some "Miss Mondo", Ligabue proves to be a good songwriter: from the rock surges of "Balliamo sul mondo" to the bittersweet tenderness of "Piccola stella senza cielo", from provincial tales like "Bar Mario" to the sentimental fantasies of "Marlon Brando è sempre lui".

And some remarkable touches of class: "Radio radianti", a curious satirical piece aimed at the radio and their little masters, "Bambolina e barracuda", more than a song, seems like a Quentin Tarantino movie script (with not bad erotic hints: "Yeah, because there's always a part to play, it would be much quicker if she came back dressed only in a glass"). Also worth noting are two beautiful acoustic ballads: "Non è tempo per noi", the most famous, an anthem for all those accustomed to going against the current, and "Angelo della nebbia", an excellent track spiced up with night influences all focused around the guitar-bass harmonic round. And Pierangelo Bertoli, once again, manages to sneak in: the wild "Figlio d'un cane" is co-written by Ligabue and Bertoli. All that's left is to listen to the lines and (tenuous) sounds of "Freddo cane in questa palude".

Undoubtedly Ligabue's best album, and one of the best released in the early Nineties. The rock jolts were greatly liked, and that "street" style of singing by Ligabue had an immediate (and somewhat unexpected) success, the provincial stories, those which are only lived out in certain contexts, were the keystone of a success as resounding as, deep down, deserved. And it wouldn't have been a pity if Ligabue had continued on this winning wave line: bent to the will and ruthless logic of the market, the artist from Emilia will dedicate himself to more or less pretentious projects (sometimes even ridiculous, see for example "A che ora è la fine del mondo?"), with just one flash of creativity (still fairly contained), "Buon compleanno Elvis".

It's a shame that this musical drift is continuing unchecked even today, that "Ligabue" offered hope for very different artistic solutions. But it's a widespread Italian whim: to delude the public and then manipulate it like a puppet. Shame, real shame.