Massimo Volume
Lungo I Bordi

It wiped away everything that was in me. I listened to it on repeat, rediscovered it, after it had waited for its moment for years. It came out in '95, but for me it's as if we're in '87. That is its year. This work by Massimo Volume looks at everything retrospectively. It knows how things turned out, analyzing all the drama of Bologna in the '80s. It filters the exhibitionism and what was extroverted, re-proposing the true feelings that remained from that decade, solitude, paranoia, the indecipherability of those moments. On the edge between wanting to speak to everyone and not knowing what to say.
Echoes of CCCP, Sonic Youth, and Slint that blend into an extremely personal, enveloping style, but far from reassuring. It's anguish that dominates, the void that returns like an obsession, the time that flows and leaves us with less and less time to do what we wanted. Distilled poetry, strong, edgy, but always extremely impulsive and impactful. In a few words, Clementi paints scenes, tells stories, shares sensations. The incredible expressiveness of this album is truly the creative peak of a group that has indisputably written a fundamental page of Italian music. It did so by "speaking" to the listener, in a way that is both intimate and truthful, yet abstract and visionary. The whole album is held together by arpeggios driven by a pressing rhythm of drums and bass, and that haunting voice fills the voids not only musically, but above all emotionally.

It is no coincidence that we often start from small everyday adventures and end up reading into them a metaphor of life, with much broader scope, as if behind every unsuspected and unbearable routine lies the true essence of what remains for us to live.
I am fascinated, I listen to it again, once more. It stays inside me, and I feel as probably every listener feels, like every person who has lived those experiences, like every person who lived in Bologna in '87, "I feel like the ceiling of a bombed church", and once again, I don't know why.