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Rating:
Reviewing an album by Liga is today more difficult than ever. Because Ligabue, first and foremost, is like marinated eel: either you love it or you hate it. Then, because he just came off the concert at Campovolo, or the monument to the Overreach (or the Egg Outside the Basket... take your pick...), an event for which many more tickets were sold than the venue's capacity, and many signals - among all a filming helicopter that kept flying over the audience, often making much more noise than the music... - suggested that everything was intentionally designed for a DVD release, obviously forthcoming.
So, it's difficult. That's why I applied the method I've been using personally for many years: trying to evaluate a product solely as a product, endeavoring not to see (sometimes making Herculean efforts...) everything around it.
Let's start with the album cover since even books have covers and men have faces.
The cover, and the booklet in general, are, in my opinion, beautiful. The choice to feature an infinity of common faces may seem pandering, but it's still beautiful, considering the result. It is a choice, moreover, straightforwardly "provincial," as is recording the entire album in Correggio, at home, another commendable choice that many could afford but not everyone makes. The landscape you see when you step out for a cigarette break is important, I assure you, and it affects the finished product.
But let's get to the content, which is, always and objectively, the most important thing.
The album opens with a pleasing noise intro. Then, you immediately notice some novelties. Just read the booklet to confirm the cause of the sound change: the guitarists have changed. The now-legendary ones were evidently squeezed dry, and they couldn't offer much more. Throughout the album, the guitar sounds are different and interesting, capable of creating a strange atmosphere, somewhat between the unforgettable first two albums and the subsequent production.
The music: objectively the usual. Beautiful, catchy, engaging, and full of epicness and lyricism, even if unfortunately, from this point of view, there's truly nothing new under the impending Po Valley fog.
The lyrics: beautiful, mature, far from the banality of Elvis (the unforgivable Viva and Quella che non sei) and perhaps closer to the intended provinciality of the first ones, with the age-related aggravation/mitigation, leading Liga to explore women with a wiser eye (Le Donne Lo Sanno) and less lustful than when he rightly saw them wearing nothing but a glass, and to write a Lettera A G. that is bound to move anyone who has, unfortunately, already walked those roads. Perhaps the latter is truly the happiest episode of the album, from every point of view.
L'Amore Conta and Sono Qui Per L'Amore are good ballads whose theme is already evident from the titles, but again treated without arrogance, banality, or, especially, winks to the young girls (often - if not always - a guarantee of success as much as stupidity...).
Predictable but fun episodes include the first single Il Giorno Dei Giorni and especially Happy Hour, where the guitar riff pleasantly but a bit banally takes you back fifteen years.
Having examined all aspects, let's apply the best winemaking rule and focus on the aftertaste.
A few hours after the second complete listen, the aftertaste is pleasant, with a scent of plains and fog, with the alibi of rock that must never be missed by a roaring Emilian, certainly more enjoyable for those who, like myself, often and gladly roam those lands, those fogs, and those tortelli.
The album is widely endorsed, feigning ignorance that by now even Liga is an (honest) industry, and that the Campovolo event is objectively hard to forgive, even if the author, monumenting his own inconsistency, will rush to buy the DVD that will collect the self-celebration of the most famous, and perhaps most genuine, rocker of our Poor Country.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
03 Happy Hour (04:13)
Dicono che tutto sia comunque scritto
quindi tanto vale che non sudi
Nasci da incendiario, muori da pompiere dicono
Dicono che devi proprio farti fuori
se vuoi fare il rock in qualche modo
che ti portiamo i fiori li nei cimiteri mitici
Sei già dentro l'happy hour
vivere vivere costa la metà
quanto costa fare finta di essere un star?
Dicono che nasci solo per soffrire
ma se soffri bene vinci il premio di consolazione
chi non salta l'eccezione è
Dicono che i sogni sono tutti gratis
ma son quasi tutti quanti usati
copriti per bene che non ti conviene il mondo qui
Sei già dentro l'happy hour
vivere vivere costa la metà
quanto costa fare finta di essere un star?
Sei già dentro l'happy hour
vivere vivere solo la metà
e la vita che non spendi che interessi avrà?
Si può però morire
vivendo sempre e solo per sentito dire
Si può però morire
per la fame che non hai
Dicono che il cielo ti fa stare in riga
che all'inferno si può far casino
mentre il purgatorio te lo devi proprio infliggere
Sei già dentro l'happy hour
vivere vivere costa la metà
quanto costa fare finta di essere un star?
Sei già dentro l'happy hour
vivere vivere solo la metà
e la vita che non spendi che interessi avrà?
04 L'amore conta (04:23)
Io e te ne abbiam vista qualcuna - vissuta qualcuna
Ed abbiamo capito per bene - il termine insieme
Mentre il sole alle spalle pian piano va giù
E quel sole vorresti non essere tu
E così hai ripreso a fumare - a darti da fare
È andata come doveva - come poteva
Quante briciole restano dietro di noi
O brindiamo alla nostra o brindiamo a chi vuoi
L'amore conta
L'amore conta
Conosci un altro modo
Per fregar la morte?
Nessuno dice mai se prima o se poi
E forse qualche dio non ha finito con noi
L'amore conta
Io e te ci siam tolti le voglie
Ognuno i suoi sbagli
È un peccato per quelle promesse
Oneste ma grosse
Ci si sceglie per farselo un pò in compagnia
Questo viaggio in cui non si ripassa dal via
L'amore conta - l'amore conta
E conta gli anni a chi non è mai stato pronto
Nessuno dice mai che sia facile
E forse qualche dio non ha finito con te
Grazie per il tempo pieno
Grazie per la te più vera
Grazie per i denti stretti
I difetti
Per le botte d'allegria
Per la nostra fantasia
L'amore conta
L'amore conta
Conosci un altro modo per fregar la morte?
Nessuno dice mai se prima o se poi
E forse qualche dio non ha finito con noi
L'amore conta
L'amore conta
Per quanto tiri sai
Che la coperta è corta
Nessuno dice mai che sia facile
E forse qualche dio non ha finito con te
L'amore conta
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Other reviews
By Alberto Giordano
To the 180,000 at Campovolo, this new LP by Liga will be enjoyable because it contains all those ingredients that made him famous.
Not a masterpiece, something more than mere management.
By floyd
Undoubtedly a point less for Liga, who now falls into the commercial.
There is really, excluding the first single taken from the album, no note worthy of mention in 'Nome e Cognome'.
By El minchia
The King of Summer is Big Luciano! Pavarotti? No, what are you saying?
True rock engulfs us, with Big Luciano screaming we should live by ear, which I don’t really understand, but if he says it, it’s believable.
By red hot chili pepper
This CD is very different; it’s one of the best rock CDs he has made because it’s a new style and also very youthful for the singer.
Ligabue ... makes us dream and face reality always with more beautiful and energetic songs.
By FedeHetfield
If you want the answer, call a scientist to research it.
This is a perfect example of trash music, abominable, neither shameful nor praiseworthy.
