Marlene Kuntz
Senza peso

Marlene Kuntz have been among the favorites of followers of certain Italian alternative rock thanks to the breakthrough of their debut "Catartica," and they have remained in their hearts with the challenging "Il vile," up to "Ho ucciso paranoia," during a period of great live performances up and down the peninsula. The cards were already on the table with the following "Che cosa vedi," with a change in style and approach to the material that put fans at a crossroads: trying to follow them in their new course or renouncing their former love. I speak from the perspective of the former, those who decided not to abandon them in listening, despite less convincing records like "Uno." "Senza peso" briefly appeared in my life upon its release when, in 2003, I brought it to a wedding in the Livorno countryside. There it was played for the newlyweds as an unlikely wedding background when, after lunch, few survivors were still able to dance to it thanks to the elevated alcohol level in their blood. That evening, I returned home without it, and the story broke off for many years. I thought I had forgotten it when a special offer convinced me to open my wallet and start attending it again. Years of distance and hostile rumors led me to be cautious not to end up burned by disappointment. Now we have been together for several years, and I can say I know it well enough and have learned to trust it. It still has all its pros and cons, traits of character that are loved or hated simultaneously, depending on the people I introduce to it. It is not perfect: in "Ci siamo amati" it wants to please everyone and risks being trivial and self-derivative, in "Danza" and "Fingendo la poesia" it is too romantic and verbose, whereas a few words would be enough to make it lovable. But then it surprises you: sometimes, when it's dark and far from the rest of the world ("Notte"), it talks to you for hours and you feel you could be by its side forever. Other times it infects you and stirs you from your wrong days thanks to its impulses. Moments of rediscovered youthful vigor, memories of a distant time that remain in the blood and resurface in "Sacrosanta verità," "A fior di pelle," or "Secondo chi vorrà," polished by maturity and the decision not to be the same anymore, whether old friends like it or not. It also has colleagues who add a little spice to certain evenings, they are called Warren and Rob Ellis, they are not brothers, but they share the same intents and the same artistic sensitivity. Of them, I have an indelible memory: they were present one evening with violins and harpsichords when I met "Laura."