Marracash
Noi, loro, gli altri

Marra has grown up, pardon, gotten older. He is 45 years old, has been a distinguished name in Italian rap for quite some time, and is the best. Or at least, to me, he is. He made his breakthrough in 2019 with the album "Persona," which few in Italy can boast in their résumés (and which introduced Bergman to a generation of youths, just for this he should be awarded an honorary Grammy) and continued with "Noi, loro e gli altri." I like the second one more, perhaps because it resonates more with me, and I hear things within it that read my own depths, or perhaps, like Marra himself, I'm getting older, and I get moved more easily. Moreover, the aforementioned album even won a Tenco Award as the best album of the year—yes, Tenco, the award once won by Guccini and De André, now won by Marra, and, with all sincerity, I don't find anything wrong with that, quite the opposite (surely they'll never give it, say, to Sfera Ebbasta or Achille Lauro).

"Noi, loro e gli altri" is beautiful, except for one track that just doesn’t sit well with me. It's the second album of Marra's, let’s say, "introspective" trilogy, and he explains the meaning behind this work himself.

"it tells of the moment: we are a fragmented society, divided into teams and factions, each with its own truth. The right to identity is claimed, and in cases of sexual identity, for example, I find it absolutely right, and at the same time, the overall vision is lost"

14 tracks, but two are skits, in which our artist tells and narrates himself, honestly, sincerely, with an innate talent for rapping (he has a voice that was born for that) and with beats that are two notches (or more) above those of the current rappers or trappers from our own backyard. The production by Zef (and you know, if I hadn't mentioned it) with trusty Marz already justifies the ticket price, and then if Marra decides that rap is fine, but you need to branch out and shake everything up in a mix of pop (a lot of pop in this album), dub and, hear ye, even '70s dance, then the game is on. Mixing genres to create one all his own is the trademark of someone who knows that resting on the laurels of the already-heard is the worst possible flaw.

Marra narrates himself, in tracks like "Noi" where he revisits his life, with his friends from that time, in subsidized housing, and in the background, Italy '90 and its magical nights; in "Pagliaccio" (where he mixes Ruggero Leoncavallo's "Pagliacci" with rap) where he blasts, without naming names but it's very clear, each time who he’s referring to, at half the Italian rap scene that acts as posers and isn’t really rap but is just looking for a bit of fame; in the intro of "Loro," harsh, direct, no frills.

Some rhymes deserve to be framed. Marra invents, soars high, amazes, in a state of grace. I'll quote a few: "I am no longer me, I don’t trust God"; "From the F-word, the N-word; which don't cancel the concept, the shitstorms, politically correct, yes, but how come they were all Charlie Hebdo before?"; "Does a live stream downtown, even gets beaten, goes home happy because he brought back the content"; "You become rough like the landscape, you know we are all just passing by"; "Uh, I remember when your mother died, the last bond, you started traveling, in Bolivia, in India, a bit in Cambodia, we’ve always been searching for something"; "Maybe there is no escape that leads to evasion, maybe I was fine among losers and idealists, maybe mental health is a rich man's issue."

He dives into dance with the irresistible "Giorni stupidi" and reflects in "Dubbi" on his condition as an artist who, perhaps, has given his all professionally but has left aside the man Marra. The thin line separating the desire to live from the worries that everyone carries with them, famous or not (Marra is bipolar, by his own admission) is the leitmotif of the album, divided between more "humorous" tracks and less carefree songs, for a body of work, I would definitely say, more suited to an over-30 audience (who will understand all the references from "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" to "Snowpiercer," from some '90s slang terms to Walter White) and less to a crowd of young or very young people (who, in fact, listen to the most decadent trappers in circulation).

As usual, many collaborations. Explicit ones like Guè (in "Love," a piece that is rather amusing), Calcutta ("Laurea ad honorem," beautiful), Blanco ("Nemesi," the least successful track because it’s less interesting in terms of lyrics and voice, Blanco isn't great, and knowing this, he stuffs in, with Marra’s unfortunate approval, loads of autotune). Hidden are the contributions of Elodie (who however appears on the cover, very elegant, chic from other times), a skit signed (and voiced) by Fabri Fibra, a quick final appearance by Mahmood in "Crazy Love," uncredited Joan Thiele and Salmo in the very amusing (and alas, very true) "Cosplay." The lyrics of "Io" feature the participation of Vasco, yes, that Vasco of whom Marra is a huge fan and whom he quotes with the music of "Gli angeli" in "Love."

A rich album, full of beautiful things and high moments, existential openings and a leap in quality, a bar raised very high indeed, which perhaps has forced a lot of Italian rap to contend with "Noi, loro e gli altri." It must be said though, not everyone is Fabio Rizzo, aka Marracash. Who, sometimes, philosophizes a little too much (are we them? or are we the others? and are the others us? Oh no, that was Tozzi, I got confused), but knows how to soar high when he wants, gliding over slippery grounds typical of those who aren’t afraid to expose and dirty themselves.

A little gem. Keep it safe Marra, as another like it is yet to be seen in Italy (p.s.: there was Salmo who was promising, but now he does other things, quite well too).