Ligabue
Sopravvissuti E Sopravviventi

Ligabue has worn out his welcome: it's very simple. We can't take seeing identical albums on record store shelves anymore. Enough, really. My judgment is based on listening to some singles from the latest albums (from "Miss Mondo" onwards) and from various online reviews that talk about things Ligabue has been saying for twenty years now: rock without frills, deep ballads, roughly existential lyrics. Yeah, we got it. But enough already.

I took greater pleasure, however, in focusing on the early albums. Certainly, it's immediately evident that Ligabue doesn't want to dive into the fray of raw and unrefined songwriting, the kind with complex lyrics and sophisticated arrangements. He has something to say, but he always says it with the aim of doing well in the charts. His first album ("Ligabue," 1990) contains good tracks but nothing exceptional, most notably the melancholic and nocturnal ballad "Piccola Stella Senza Cielo," which, in my opinion, quickly turns into an annoyingly monotonous chant, and the equally bitter "Non È Tempo Per Noi" with which, however, I don't understand what the banjo is about. "Lambrusco Coltelli Rose E Pop Corn" (where the hell did you get that from??) continues down the path of anthemic and catchy rock ("Salviamoci La Pelle," "Libera Nos A Malo") and indulges in one of the best episodes, in my opinion, of the Romagna rocker's career: "Camera Con Vista Sul Deserto," a folk-blues hallucination that almost borders on psychedelia.

Then there's "Sopravvissuti E Sopravviventi," which came before "Una Vita Da Mediano," before "Eri Bellissima," before "you've already broken with this happy hour, only half of my patience remains." In short, before Liga took pride in his rocker status with millions, granting a classic single of his for a TV commercial. Some reviews scattered around the web depict it as a sort of "black sheep" in Liga's discography, the one that sold the least, the darkest one, etc. What's true about all this? I wondered. Let's have a listen.

It's true that the lyrics are not at all trivial, in their dry and essential realism. Certainly, "AAA Qualcuno Cercasi" suffers from good sentiments fired off in a somewhat stereotypical manner, and above all, remains within the perspective of a catchy and powerful anthem just enough to be shouted at concerts, but nothing more. The first track of the album does much better: "Ancora In Piedi" almost seems to contradict those reviews that spoke of gloom and melancholy with a stubborn statement of survival: all at the pace of simple, funky rock. But it's a false start because Liga soon surprisingly switches things up with a series of tracks that seem gripped by annoying and oppressive angst: "Ho Messo Via" (complete with piano and trumpet solo by Costanzo's Demo Morselli) is a country-spiced ballad perfect for anyone who can't "put someone away." "Walter Il Mago" is another of his song-scripts, akin to "Bambolina E Barracuda" from the first album, but it does much better: a piano intro, a resigned tone that explodes into an almost epic chorus, and an ironic-melancholic lyric about a magician who has long since stopped impressing friends with his tricks but is still smiled at for sympathy. "Quando Tocca A Te" is almost the nadir of depression: acoustic guitar, slow cadence, piano inserts, all to package a track that leads to a surreal and unexpected band-like finale. Liga never forgets to be a rocker, though, and allows himself some tough and almost angry pieces: the quasi-reportage of "Dove Fermano I Treni," the sad "I Duri Hanno Due Cuori," and the shadowy "Pane Al Pane," songs that bring back the dry and essential riffs, the dragging cadences, and the hoarse voice of his more "hard" performances. How does all this conclude? Even with a sort of "requiem" almost like Morricone (trumpet, kazoo, keyboards) that borders on ambient. I didn't expect this, and in my opinion, it does honor to the rocker from Correggio.

And then? Well... I know little to nothing about what happens between this album and "Miss Mondo." The trouble is that one single seems just like another. And above all, the tracks Liga decides to release as singles don't make you want to buy his albums, at least not now, it doesn't even cross my mind, after all, when Ligabue burst onto the Italian scene, I didn't even know who he was. Not to mention "Fuori come va?" and "Nome e cognome," always the same old story, pure rock, catchy choruses, lyrics trying to talk about the troubles and desires of the "youths," not forgetting to sprinkle here and there some pearls of lived life (or so he wants us to believe, who knows). But I, however, remain with this album. Ligabue has never invented and will never invent anything, and one could well ask him, instead of "how much does it cost to pretend to be a star?," "how much does it cost to test people's patience infinitely?". Of course, as long as he'll manage to fill the stadiums, he'll continue to make the same album ad libitum. But I like to think that, probably, a shred of his true personality came out in this album, despite the "fake-rebel rocker-for-TV-commercial" Ligabue who has to think about the market and the record company. Who knows where the truth is.