Modena City Ramblers
Riportando tutto a casa

The Modena City Ramblers are a historic Italian band which, while grunge, extreme metal, early alternative and a myriad of other genres were raging across the world, paid little attention to trends and gave life to a project destined to last.

This is their first album, probably their best, and I already know I won’t be able to be objective. I can’t be objective because the MCR have a special place in my heart, even though I never admit I like them because my contrarian metalhead side forbids it.

To be honest, evaluating this band is "objectively difficult." In my view, there are five reasons, and as easy homework, I’ll leave it to you to find more. The first two belong to the genre the Ramblers play: folk or something similar. On one hand, it’s undeniable that the band lifts, borrows, and includes unoriginal parts, be they Pogues or folk songs—stuff not written by them. In a way, this should make us lower their rating, but not overly much, because capturing a mood and knowing how to reinterpret it is no small feat. On the other hand, my second reason, I believe folk is, by nature, a bit of a crowd-pleaser. I say this with affection and fondness for folk music—which I enjoy in all its forms, from ballroom folk to pagan metal: I think for the Western and especially European ear, folk strikes a deep chord in our cultural roots, making it not just another genre but something which, when done right, gives you an extra gear from the start. The third reason is that we’re talking about an unmistakably political band, a factor we can’t and shouldn’t ignore, so their lyrics and the band's approach must be analyzed as well. It's also noteworthy that the Modena City Ramblers have changed a lot over time, and today it’s hard to reconstruct how they were back then, making it quite tough to place the band and what they did in the right perspective. Finally, let’s not fall into clichés about the relationship between band and fanbase, and the way these two things have changed over the years.

A special note goes to the wonderful cover art, with folk instruments and political and cultural symbols piled up: a true emblem of an era.

With all these thoughts in mind, let’s start the track-by-track.

The album opens with a song that already shows what we’re made of: "In un giorno di pioggia." Pure folk flavor in a flawless love song for a great land, finding just the right moments to step on the gas, with lyrics that are pure poetry. My heart aches imagining sixteen-year-olds or just a bit older whispering to each other in absolute happiness, "in un giorno di pioggia ho imparato ad amarti" in the middle of a mosh pit while the Ramblers played on the stage of some suburban club (probably those two sixteen-year-olds had no clue the song was dedicated to Ireland and not to a person...). Then comes "Tant par tachèr," a song that really shows off their melodic taste, and with its impenetrable words it truly drops us straight into the album’s mood. "Quarant’anni" is one of my favorite tracks and hits home politically, just as the early MCR could do: an anthemic track that, in terms of conception and structure, brushes up against folk metal—proving to be among their best, even without being particularly complex. "Delinqueint ed Mòdna" is sung in dialect and is really pleasant, with a bitter taste nicely woven into the rest of the track, which fades out to leave space for the famous "Morte di un poeta," an excellent song hiding a sad story behind its lyrics. Sad story too in the next track, "I funerali di Berlinguer," but told with head held high, turning out not to be a whiny song at all. The muscular one-two punch "Il bicchiere dell’addio"/"Canto di Natale" is very good, followed by a song already present in "Combat Folk," the heart-wrenching "Ahmed l’ambulante," with lyrics by Stefano Benni. The next pair of aces are a must at every concert, with "Contessa" and "Bella Ciao"—even though these aren’t originals by the Modenese band, they are true highlights of their repertoire. "The Great Song of Indifference" is good, even if it’s not the strongest in the set, until the closing and iconic "Ninnananna."

This album has immense power, a power that is the real strength of the Modena City Ramblers: it takes you through tragedies and political struggles, but also through dance halls and green fields. This dichotomy is fantastic and makes the early MCR a band that delivers emotions like few others could; because back then, this was still true: Modena were not just a political band. The Modena City Ramblers truly played, they were musicians, not just political souls: over time, in my opinion, this got a little tangled up. We mentioned in the beginning how the band and its fanbase have evolved. The nineties and early 2000s are not just any years. It’s no coincidence that Modena were born that way, it’s no coincidence those were the years when Italy began a new political phase; it’s no coincidence that the first alternative movements, in the modern sense, appeared, or that, as a reaction, fierce Oi! groups emerged. And today? Modena are still followed by young people: and indeed, it’s no coincidence if that political phase hasn’t ended yet, if few people care that Cisco is no longer in the band, if Modena are remembered but Erode aren’t, nor the Stormy Six (except for "Rossa Palestina," which nobody knows the author of), it’s no coincidence if subcultural consciousness hasn’t grown. You often hear, "Modena City Ramblers... a band for alternative kids," but let’s examine that carefully: first of all, Modena aren’t just that, and especially weren’t just that, though it’s true they never did much to foster self-criticism (and for that, I condemn them). It’s true that attacking the fanbase instead of the band, strictly speaking, is wrong, but after all, a group acts consciously in relation to its fanbase, and their artistic choices are not separate from that, so—as we said—from certain viewpoints, if they’re a band for alternative folk, "e ci sarà un motivo!" (cit for a select few). But really, what does alternative kids even mean? Sure, in those years there was a lot of hypocrisy (and a desire to raise hell, which, for better or worse, still lingers today), and that hypocrisy has proven hard to kill, but there was more to it, it wasn’t just about fashion: there were political ideals which, like it or not, have survived, there was an ongoing generational clash, a society not ready to absorb certain changes, and there were also picturesque and fascinating aspects. So fine, at Modena City Ramblers concerts you’ll find hippies (and let’s be honest, maybe we’d never really admit their political conviction is sincere), but are we making a mistake if we use that as an excuse to condemn them? Isn’t it possible we just don’t want to leave our own cultural baggage behind, even if our arguments are true? The Modena City Ramblers, with all that in mind, represent one of the greatest points for political reflection, especially in extra-parliamentary circles from certain viewpoints: namely the dialogue and awareness between subcultures, even politically. And I say this with all the partiality of someone who’s never been a hippy and who genuinely believes that if Modena were played a bit less and Colonna Infame Skinhead a bit more, it would be better. But on the other hand, we could have a similar discussion musically: I really think it’s a shame the MCR don’t use their visibility to give a voice back to old names of Italian leftist music like Strana Officina or Area, but instead let young people listen to P38.

So, what do we take away from all this? A magnificent album brimming with memories, reflection, atmosphere—a life told in one album, many lives told in a record that still speaks today. And if today MCR are a band that has little left of that original swagger, if they’re now a bit washed up and play a kind of pop that’s been smoothed out (though still enjoyable), I’d say a bit of the blame is ours. It’s our fault, we, the left-wing public, who never really wanted to discover other names in the politicized music scene and so we settled, as long as they keep "Contessa" in the setlist, that’s fine. But that’s how it went.

"Riportando tutto a casa" thus becomes a bulwark for folk lovers, an institution for bookworms, for alternatives—let me say it with a hint of sarcasm, since we’re all in on the joke now—it’ll be an album whose most popular songs will end up in playlists alongside Manu Chao, and for lefty metalheads it’ll be a guilty pleasure. An album played with sweat, one that knows when to get harder but never gets truly heavy. In some ways, it’s less aggressive, less punk and maybe even less political than you might expect, but it’s still a hell of a record. And let’s hold on tightly to these Modena City Ramblers, shall we. Rating: 91/100.