Pooh
Un Pò Del Nostro Tempo Migliore

GENRE: Symphonic Pop

The '70s were a big melting pot in the music world. These years were generally dominated by prog, born after the experimentalism of the '60s. And in Italy? Well, Battisti officially began in 1969, just in time to lead a decade by producing one hit after another. Alongside him, De André reflected on society, embodying the (uncomfortable) role of the revolutionary. Moving down a bit, but certainly not in order of importance, bands like Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, Area, or PFM continued the path traced mainly in the English landscape, of which the undisputed masters were Genesis. And the Pooh? In this small universe is situated the Bolognese group, which in 1975 released "Un pò del nostro tempo migliore." Their story is peculiar: despite debuting with good albums, culminating with the admirable "Parsifal" (1973) - right after Riccardo Fogli's departure - the self-referential pop and lack of inclination for innovation of the last twenty - twenty-five years did not benefit them; with the consequence that now the public struggles to find something good in a band that in the '70s - to go back to the introduction - was a real cult band.
Having said that, in 1975 the Pooh released two albums, one shortly after the other, "Forse ancora poesia" and "Un pò del nostro tempo migliore." Both would achieve little commercial success, probably due to the lack of typical 45 RPM hits, to the point of being almost unknown to most. And this is a real shame, because precisely because of these two failures (but, I repeat, only on the commercial side) the four abandoned symphonic pop - distantly linked also to progressive - which had characterized the previous five years, and with which they had also had some satisfactions.

Their musical approach is facilitated first of all by the excellent position of the instruments; the rhythmic setup is confidently sustained by Stefano D'Orazio on drums - his performance in Credo is fundamental - and by Red Canzian, frequently unorthodox in embellishments and breaking conventions. But the best comes in the second half of the group: Roby Facchinetti ensures a constant presence on keyboards, a role he accompanies with that of composer and singer; Dodi Battaglia is the cornerstone of the group, an instrumentalist who could at the time be considered - from the epic solo in Parsifal (1973) to the guitar explosion in Viva (1979) - the best guitarist in Italy and perhaps in Europe.

On these solid foundations, the outlined musical discourse develops. The songs are perhaps a bit all similar - and this can be a flaw - but they all possess an enviable poetic momentum. The lyricist Negrini unfolds lyrics with a dreamlike, sometimes hallucinatory flow, perfectly reflecting the mood of the songs: the words are the true strength of the album, more than the compositions themselves. Which are enriched with new instruments like the harpsichord, the moog synthesizer, and the mellotron, in addition to the indispensable support of the orchestra, which gives body to the final sound. Tracks like the already mentioned Credo, Oceano, plus the final triad 1966, Orient Express, and Il tempo, una donna la città well convey what the group wanted to be at the time: four musicians constantly searching for epicness, almost the drama (a slightly strong term) of sound, sometimes even at the expense of the final result. There are also two instrumentals, the initial Preludio and the exotic Mediterraneo, with a Battaglia in great shape; the rather insignificant Eleonora mia madre, D'Orazio's first composition; and to conclude the long suite (10'45'') Il tempo una donna la città, which trying to gather the legacy of Parsifal leaves the listener with a bitter taste, for the disappointed expectations that such a long track could bring.

In short, a half-succeeded work in some respects, partially off track in others. But it is an album that reflects its time to the fullest, and as such it should be considered.