Ricky Gianco
Arcimboldo

Many of the Italian musicians who rose to fame in the '60s found themselves in deep crisis in the following decade: some, like Celentano and Battisti, managed to reinvent themselves thanks to their charisma, or by riding the wave of new sounds coming from abroad, without seeming too stale; others, like the Giganti or the Califfi, attempted to shift their style towards a prog/pop that provided little satisfaction, eventually fading into oblivion; the most cunning chameleons, like the Pooh, managed to endure with some lineup changes and a nod to prog rock, sweetening it just enough. While the scene was gradually filled with protest singers, chansonniers, new Dylans, prog bands, other artists disappeared in droves, never to re-emerge from anonymity, except starting from the mid-'80s thanks to vanzinian revivalism à la "Sapore di Mare": who remembered anymore, except San Remo (both the saint and the place) of illustrious victims such as Don Backy, Equipe 84, Gianni Pettenati, Caterina Caselli, Gian Pieretti, Dino, Rita Pavone, Little Tony, Peppino di Capri, Nicola di Bari, Piero Focaccia, Tony Santagata, Rokes, Mal & the Primitives, Edoardo Vianello? Probably few, except the future authors of Buona Domenica, or other similar container programs.
Only one of them managed to emerge from nothing and make his way, against the current, "ostinately and contrary" direction (as a famous Singer-songwriter would say) throughout the '70s, producing authentic masterpieces now forgotten by most, rich in irony, humor, culture, as well as supported by great music: Riccardo Sanna from Lodi... better known as Ricky Gianco, already in the Celentano clan and a songwriter in his own right. I won't waste time telling you anything about him; his website is more than enough (I'll mention it further down for all the curious ones). I prefer to focus on his most beautiful album and, in my opinion, one of the greatest albums in the history of Italian music: Arcimboldo ('78).

The album is an intriguing mix of pop, rock, prog rock, sparkling irony (thanks to Gianfranco Manfredi's contribution to the lyrics), pain and poignancy, poetry, played along with some members of PFM.
The initial "Compagno sì, compagno no, compagno un cazz", with its rocking accompaniment, is a sharp piece dedicated to certain superficial alternatives who, then as now, confused "personal" with "political" in a labyrinth with no way out: with his caustic humor, Gianco predicts the sunset of ideologies and outlines the paths of the age of withdrawal. The subsequent "Arcimboldo", with its more relaxed tempo, is a poignant ballad dedicated to the end of a clandestine love in Vienna, where the abandoned lover gradually resigns himself to being forgotten, vanishing into nothingness like merchandise that is now out of fashion: the lyrics take center stage, although the melody is hard to forget. The same tones emerge in "Uomini non parlate più", where the dimension of pain is no longer private, but public, where one becomes aware of an inevitable fate in which the weak will remain perpetually oppressed, there will be no more icons, dreaming a return to Eden will be impossible. A chilling shower, with almost punk nihilism, is experienced with the subsequent "Vita, morte e miracoli", a rock piece that frontal attacks on pietism, fake culture, false religious dimension, fake historicism... given that History is nothing more, according to Gianco and Manfredi, than "a movement... a movement of fools": the individual, devoid of orientation in that '78 marked by the explosion of terrorism ("red" and "black"), found themselves without a compass, as the veil of illusions fell, finding support only in their sense of humor, in their vitality. This very dimension of life is dedicated to the next piece "Ironia", a sharp manifesto of Gianco and Manfredi's thought, a delirious piece both musically and textually, in which, on a sound fabric reminiscent of a suburban theater, they invite, among other things, "the gnomes of the Universe to destroy basketball" (sic!), denying the coincidence between rational/real which, on the ideological level, was abused in those years by many sides.
With "Il deserto è pulito" sounds become prog, especially in the instrumental part placed in the center of the track, with splendid interplay of bass, drums, and guitar: the piece has oriental flavors, even though from the text it is well understood that the desert referred to is much closer to Italy of those years, residing in the people and society of the time. Meditative tones accompany the jazzy "Obrigado Obrigadinho", with somewhat hermetic lyrics, sung by Gianco with a hint of disenchantment and nostalgia for someone who is no longer there, or is no longer like they once were: another piece not easily forgotten. The environment is the theme of "Il fiume Po", which describes the progressive death of the backbone of the northern plain, and by extension the gradual death of Italy itself, poisoned by miasmas and polluting discharges: even here irony is not lacking, with mythological, political, and personal references. The concluding "A Nervi nel '92", once again with poignant and nostalgic tones, tells of an old love, where memories try to restore a past that is no longer there.

A historic album, inexplicably removed from collective memory, which would be a shame not to know.