Patti Smith Group
Radio Ethiopia

THE REVIEW

After inaugurating the New York new wave with the immortal "Horses" (1975), Patti Smith reaffirms herself as a sublime interpreter of this first phase of the new course of American rock, with this "Radio Ethiopia" (1976).

Among music critics, there is always much talk of "punk attitude," but almost no one has ever talked about "new-wave attitude." And the debate continues on the role that Patti Smith has had in the history of rock, as many view her songs as nothing more than classic "old" rock. I am of the opinion that these early records of Smith, in the contention between classic rock and new wave, end up being timeless, eternally current, shining with their own light.

However, I remain of the opinion that Patti Smith "is" the new wave, in spirit, in mindset, in attitude, precisely: new wave as awareness of one's historical and existential condition; new wave as overcoming progressive formalism; new wave as a return to anthropocentrism; new wave as dismay and regret. And, finally, new wave as demolition of traditional aesthetic canons, starting with singing: Smith's voice is unpleasant. Not ugly, nor out of tune: to be clear! Unpleasant, annoying and irritating, if instead of immersing yourself open-heartedly, you limit yourself to listening to it inattentively. And this is because Patti's voice touches all (yes, all) the exposed nerves of one's soul, all the sore spots, all the most fragile zones: it is perhaps the most "emotional" voice in the history of rock. A voice that causes discomfort, being devoid of brakes, filters, modesty. With Patti Smith, the voice (and therefore the human element) returns to be the absolute protagonist of the music and the instruments are its discreet support.

As in "Horses," the songbook of the Patti Smith Group (also here, led by encyclopedic guitarist Lenny Kaye) divides between brazen rock'n'roll ("Pumping") and desperate ("Ask The Angels", introduced by the "definitive" two-chord of new wave rock), endless rides of psychedelic memory (the title-track, apotheosis of free-form impetus), heartfelt piano elegies that echo the pathos of Jefferson Airplane ("Pissing in a river", a solemn crescendo culminating in the famous verses "What About It? What About It?", a worthy heir of the unsurpassable "Free Money") and streams of consciousness, in my opinion the best part of their repertoire, with three vibrant lessons of intimate rock: "Ain't It Strange", a tormented, derelict, and congested procession, yet capable in the end of lifting off the ground and crashing into one of the wildest and liberating screams (practically Kate Bjelland, 15 years ahead); "Distant Fingers", an expansive chant that turns into a sob, without us even realizing it, demonstrating how thin the line between serenity and melancholy is; "Poppies", perhaps the pinnacle of the entire record, a Doors-esque abyss in which the idea of an introverted, psychological rock, dedicated to the sounding of one's soul is sublimated.

Patti Smith's thoughts crowd chaotically; she dialogues with herself, sneers, reflects; and Kaye echoes her with guitar doodles. All the patterns, all the structures, all the artifices collapse. There remains only a void to fill, a discomfort to express, a pain to vent.

Music to listen to alone, in your room.