Rio
Terra, Luna e Margarita

It's well known that carrying an important surname and trying to enter the world of entertainment is difficult.
Being the child or relative of an artist is notoriously a burden; it opens as many doors as it closes, comparisons are inevitable, and if it's not just a commercial operation, if you really want to play, it makes life complicated enough.

Being named Marco Ligabue, well, that's what it is.

You might even have a recording studio in the family, a producer who organizes events for two hundred and fifty thousand people, top-level equipment at your disposal, technical advice from the best mouths in the business.

But being named Marco Ligabue, that's what it is.

By now, it's been a while since the little brother of the good Luciano decided to go solo. Seeing those filthy thirty-thousand-sixty-thousand people at concerts down at the stage, waiting only for the brother, and miserably managing his fan club, must incite a bit of healthy envy. And so, one day you open a concert with your band, one day you arrange some evening gigs, the album comes out spontaneously, whether you want it or not.

You make the album. You play 150 shows around the peninsula. You get some radio play occasionally. A second album is definitely in the cards.

And so, more than two years after the release of "Mariachi Hotel" in 2004, comes "Terra, Luna e Margarita", the latest work (not effort) by Rio, the band led by the aforementioned long-haired Marco Ligabue.

The band is solid. Marco is a pretty good guitarist, Fabio Mora brought a fresh breeze to Italian male voices, Tony Farinelli on bass, a Cesare Barbi on drums who recorded many tracks of "Nome e Cognome" (Luciano Ligabue - 2005 - Ed. Warner), and finally Alle Bartoli on those things filled with lights that produce strange effects. On electronics, yes. There's even the now indispensable DJ.

Scrolling through the tracks of the album, ten to be precise, you can feel something. The passion, I mean. There's that, at least a bit. In some tracks, you can sense that extra pinch of effort that makes a track listenable to the end. I was undecided about the purchase. Observing the comments on the personal site (http://www.rio.it), all strangely positive, I wondered what was underneath. I was almost convinced they were famous, but trying to ask around half of Italy if they knew the band or any of their songs, I understood (just for the record, the answer to the question was "Who???").

Rio is a band with immense potential, that of Marco's brother, but they didn't manage to exploit it. The result is a strange album, at times convincing and at times not, which at times rises above average by quite a bit and at other times falls into the darkest commercial realm.

The start is alcoholic, "Margarita", one of the title tracks, is clear right away. Rio likes Mexico. Honestly, when I was a child, I imagined Mexico as in the Esta-thè commercials, Pedro and his friend basking under a scorching sun, or as the border to cross for monstrously cool American criminals. I still imagine it like that, and I don't know what's so great about it. It must be because I live in Naples and the difference (Sun and laziness) is almost none. But they really like it. It's one of the reasons the band was formed. The rhythm is at the edge of dance, with a cheeky guitar in the background. You soon notice one of the album's flaws: the female backing vocals, which have little to do with Fabio's voice, really very little. They almost seem to be there to give some unemployed friends of theirs a job.
"Come ti va" played a lot on the radio this summer. It has its reasons, it's a song for a car full of people you want to be with. A cheerful song, vaguely sunny. Luciano's influence is a constant presence in the album, with the initial riffs and mid-verse, the variations, the chords, the solos, the structural simplicity. It's there. It's undeniable, and I'm not sure how positive that really is.
Third, alas, is "Alice". I thought the trend of songs about unlucky girls started by "Mary" from Gemelli Diversi was over. I was wrong.
Approaching the middle of the album, you can notice a tonal and timbral metamorphosis of the singer. If it weren't for the useless riff and the backing vocals, it almost wouldn't seem like Rio. "La vita perfetta" is a filler track, acoustic guitar in full swing, and voice, with various effects.
"Dimmi" rises above the average of the album. Mind you, we're still talking about simple texts, already heard, but it's sweet. Fabio leaves three-quarters of his raspy vocal cords at home and enters the studio, different. A whispered piece, fast enough. It flies by quickly. A song for that one person you really want to be with.
"Il movimento dell'aria", "Scossa" and "Tutto in una notte" (despite the funny backing vocals), are just three tracks. That's it.
Second to last is the second title track, "Questa è la terra", a song for a drive with just yourself. It flows smoothly, if only it weren't so "Lucianian".
"Luna" is one that tries to break away from the usual style. Partly it succeeds, partly it doesn't. It just doesn't quite make it.

In conclusion, an album worth buying, if it weren't for that pop-rock sound already heard too much. A tired style, by now, that convinces partly thanks to a singer who's good, ready to bring a breath of fresh air to a commercial product.

Maybe a bit too much.