Lucio Battisti
E Già

Indeed.

If there is a hallmark of the entire Battisti discography, it is the epideictic character of the album titles: two years after the mogolian "Giornata Uggiosa," there's nothing else to say but "Indeed," there's nothing else to do but acknowledge that things have gone as they inevitably had to: that "showy intellectual type who ultimately was worth nothing," Mogol, is nothing but a memory to be dissolved among the notes of a subtle "Mistero," an episode already closed and concluded in a chapter that still wishes to enrich itself with new sensations.

Indeed, Lucio, you felt the need to write something more about yourself to make it clear that you still want to make music, that you are still a valid singer-songwriter, that above all, there is no longer a need for an intellectual to write songs: they can be done independently, without solecisms and preteritions.
Who to rely on now? The lyricist appearing in the end credits, "Velezia," a syllabic acronym of "Grazia Letizia Veronesi," the author's wife, seems to be a puppet put there to hide the actual writing of the same texts by the singer from Poggio Bustone: the thesis, now generally accepted, is supported by the various references to Lucio's personal experiences, and granted that it is absolutely useful to support it now, the summary is that this is still a DIY production.

Indeed, Lucio, an album to make it clear that nothing is over, that everything is yet to be accomplished. To see it properly, a real misstep, a work that is neither fish nor fowl, predictable in the lyrics, ineffective in the music, painted with new-age shades that do not make it an original and iconic product. Naïve in construction, naïve in the disenchanted character of the aseptic little drawings by Luca Battisti, son of such a father, naïve in form and content.

Indeed, Lucio, you did not deny this work, despite the cold reception from critics and the public, despite the content and musical poverty: you declared its sincerity, naturalness, immediacy; you are not wrong, but parameters like those mentioned, so present in this work, do not necessarily coincide with lexical and formal poverty: "Windsurf windsurf/ Sail away/ Take me far/ From this noisy city" is indeed a praise of a hobby you have often been linked to, but it is also a nursery rhyme without drive and pathos; "Slow motion on Christmas Eve/ The ear sharpened to hear him arrive/ Luck is drawn, the man is on the moon" is an example of rhyming couplets that is not difficult to find among a child's stylistic exercises; "La tua felicità," title of track and inspiration of the album, refers to the dozens of assonant words that populate the album: "serenità, infelicità, verità"... a sonic refrain.

Indeed, Lucio, always a musical innovator and a prophet of new sounds in your homeland, this time you do not anticipate the times. Electronic experimentations of this kind, already in vogue in Europe through Eno and Kraftwerk have been popular in Italy for some years, and perhaps with more comforting and consistent results than those achieved with this LP.

What to save, Lucio? The playful digressions of the title track, perhaps, the fascinating atmosphere of "Straniero."

Indeed, Lucio, that "showy intellectual type who ultimately was worth nothing" wasn't just a handful of flies, on the contrary, we prefer to remember his lyrics, the magnificent spell that bound you to him, the History of Italian Music.