Lucio Battisti
Friends

We are in 1978. Just a year before, Lucio Battisti released “Io Tu Noi Tutti” and the English version “Images”, partially revamped, with practically no gap between them. "Images" is the English version of the former, enriching it with a few tracks, pearls for enthusiasts, such as the funkified and re-sounded version of “La Canzone Del Sole”.

Well, a year later Battisti intended to do the same with “Una Donna Per Amico”, the penultimate album of his successful and historic collaboration with the now intolerable Mogol, and perhaps one of the most commercial episodes of his career, and certainly the most “polished.” Yes, because in “Una Donna Per Amico” everything sounds flawless, every minimalism is entirely abandoned to make way for an excessive use of vocal and instrumental overdubs. It is a thoroughly refined and absolutely Anglo-Saxon album in packaging and presentation. Anglo-Saxon, yes, but fundamentally very melodic, as (perhaps) is right for any product coming from the Beautiful Country, then as now. So, do I think “Una Donna Per Amico” is bad ... ? Absolutely not.

The music is certainly interesting, there are some immortal pearls of Battisti's repertoire (“Nessun Dolore”, “Prendila Così”) some amusing and absolutely light-hearted “jokes” (“Al Cinema”, “Maledetto Gatto”) and a few pleasant fillers. Still, it is a product that can only be criticized because it bears the Battisti-Mogol signature and, consequently, is comparable to highly esteemed products such as “Anima Latina” or “Il Mio Canto Libero.” Still, it was said, it is an album with everything going for it to break into the Anglo-Saxon/American market. Then why was this “Friends” never published? Probably the failure of the previous “Images” convinced artists, producers, and labels to give up, but I think it was a mistake, for several reasons. First of all, because Battisti's English self-exile evidently improved his language skills, his English pronunciation is almost perfect and absolutely presentable for an Italian. Then because the songs are beautiful, performed in English, much like the first non-Italian album by Zucchero: certain songs, written and arranged with more than a glance beyond the Channel or ocean, sound undeniably good in the language that could be their original.

Then because the tracklist is excellent, deprived of “Maledetto Gatto” and enriched by “Baby It's You”, a very long funky and electronic version of “Ancora Tu” and “I Think Of You”, an interesting, also very long, transformation of the much older “E Penso A Te”. Two true gems that every real Battisti fan deserves to know and appreciate. I couldn't say for certain if the band playing these two tracks is the same that worked on the other tracks of “Una Donna Per Amico”, as it seems more electronics and something different in the general atmosphere of the tracks are present... well... let's say I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out the recordings are later and partially detached from the rest of the work, which clearly features the exact same bases for the English and Italian versions (with some small differences, it's hard to tell if due to a different mix or the addition of some part: for example, in “Lady”, or “Donna Selvaggia Donna”, there's a nice distorted guitar, very skillful, that “embellishes” much more than in the Italian version, just as in the first part of “Afraid Of Falling”, or “Aver Paura D’Innamorarsi Troppo”, there’s a piano that's different and much more beautiful and rhythmic than what we know).

Battisti obviously sings main parts and choruses excellently, with great meticulousness and attention, and the product sounds absolutely perfect, finished, and ready for publication. Yet, it remained there, in some drawer, probably in the same place where pearls like “Il Gabbianone” or the alternative, psychedelic, and very long (and much better) version of “Il Nostro Caro Angelo” and many other things rest. Perhaps (it seems no one knows) even the elusive unreleased track he was working on when he died, the ideal and home sequel to “E Già”. Who shall live shall see... ?

Who knows: it depends solely and exclusively on Mrs. Veronese in Battisti, the most austere and, for me, admirable woman in the history of the Wives of Music. The only widow who carries forward her husband's very strict ideal exactly as he would have (in other words according to schemes that are neither “old” nor “new” but simply “no economy”).