Roberto Angelini
La Vista Concessa

"The Curious Case of Roberto Angelini"

Paraphrasing the title of a recent film with Brad Pitt, I will tell you the story of this talented Roman singer-songwriter, who for a period of his life found himself to be something he is not.

Roberto (born in 1975) made himself known to the wider public in 2000: he participated in the Sanremo Festival with the song "Il signor domani" and won the critics' award; a year later, he released the eponymous album, establishing himself as one of the most promising young Italian songwriters.

As Lucarelli would say in one of his episodes of "Blu notte": "at this point, something happens, something terrible, something frightening".

In 2003, Angelini returned in the worst possible way, becoming a pop/dance icon with the super summer hit "Gattomatto" followed by the nearly unlistenable album "Angelini".

"What had turned that boy into a monster? And why? Mystery."

Another two years passed, and our case was back in the spotlight, this time in a good way: he released a tribute to Nick Drake ("PongMoon dreaming of Nick Drake"), thus regaining the lost title of "artist."

Four years went by without any news from Roberto. Which path would he have taken: the trashy one of "Gattomatto" or that of the appreciated songwriter of "Il signor domani"? The answer is "La vista concessa."

The album opens with the melancholic "Vulcano" and "Tramonto", which give me hope with highly inspired and engaging lyrics; but it's with the next track "Fino a qui tutto bene" that I find the answer I was looking for: Roberto has returned to doing what he does best, writing beautiful songs and accompanying them with his acoustic guitar; the track is stunning in its dramatic and heartfelt storytelling.

Following the not entirely convincing "Dove sorge il suono", the duo "Dicembre" and "FFF" resumes the initial discussion and brings the work back to exquisitely soft-rock territories.

Next is the rocking "Quando crollano le stelle" and the acoustic tracks "Fiorirari" and "Beato chi no sa", in which Angelini returns to delight.

But it's with "Sulla sponda del fiume" that he perhaps reaches the compositional peak, a romantic ballad that tells of an indissoluble love: moving; while "Venere" surprises with its tribal rhythm.

After a moment of misdirection called "Benicio Del Toro", where the past to forget resurfaces, and the too repetitive "Ora"; the title track redeems the work and closes it worthily.

Roberto Angelini has completed his redemption and with "La vista concessa", he has earned all my admiration and respect.

I conclude by saying that if he had excluded some tracks from the tracklist ("Dove sorge il suono", "Benicio Del Toro" and "Ora") we might be here talking about a masterpiece, but given the current times, we "settle".