Maurizio Arcieri
Trasparenze

THE REVIEW

Listening to "Il Grigio della Mente", the opening track of the album Trasparenze, one might wonder what good old Maurizio Arcieri had in mind in 1973. Yes, him, the charming beat musician with New Dada in the '60s, the very romantic heartthrob from photo novels, backed by the hit "Cinque Minuti" in the early '70s, a pioneer of punk and Italian New Wave with Chrisma (or Krisma) from the second half of the decade, creates a bewildering track that doesn't seem to have parallels in local production of that period, teetering between Lou Reed and the sturdier Roxy Music, with an intentionally decadent singing, a rhythm section that evokes naughty thoughts (with Paolo Donnarumma on bass), and guitars a step away from stoner.

Yet it shouldn't surprise too much: Maurizio was one of the rare Italian figures truly able to see himself (musically) on a broad stage, capable not only of having bold - or sometimes slick - references in the international context but of feeling deeply part of it, and Trasparenze is the manifesto of his desire for a personal and free approach to rock. It is useless to try to categorize it within Italian progressive rock, to seek connections with the melodic scene, or with the songwriter tradition that is far away. Behind Mario Convertino's beautiful cover, we find a convincing mix of sharp blues rock and psychedelia, with occasional simple but extraordinarily moving lyrical peaks.

One can get lost, therefore, in the stoner rock of Rapporto (yes, it speaks precisely of that, and not in a very veiled manner), with a short drum solo bouncing between the two stereo channels, or in the glam with a good "sleazy" flavor of Se Fossi Io. Una Foglia is a melodic rock track clearly tied to the '60s West Coast sounds, complete with a clearly hippie text. Then there's psychedelia, cosmic and whimsical in the acoustic ballad Immagini, with a John Cale-like viola, inspired by Indian modal music and vaguely jazzy in Vibrazioni, intimate and experimental in the ethereal Trasparenze, which somewhat recalls certain parts of Pink Floyd's Alan Psychedelic Breakfast (how lovely the prepared piano always is).

Not everything, of course, shines. At times the lyrics sound a bit forced, naively awkward. Sereno, beyond its beautiful chorus, is a track that has aged terribly, while the short cosmic instrumental Primo Volo makes little sense in the collection, except to slightly drag out the album, which is fairly brief overall (not so much, though, considering the standards of the time). Certainly, though, any defect is overshadowed by a genuine and precious ballad like Per Amore, which starts from the simplest of chords and grows from passage to passage in poetry, intensity, increasingly enveloping sounds, up to the moving final invocation "Vorrei essere io", overdubbed multiple times. The track recalls the best works of Claudio Rocchi and his Volo Magico n. 1, and without falling into mere sentimentality but rather maintaining a great sense of moderation, the moist eyes (or a certain lump in the throat) are guaranteed.

Trasparenze is a wonderful discovery in the Italian landscape, and not only of that period, and the best thing is that it speaks extremely clearly about the qualities of its author, an artist of which there is always great need in our musical environment.