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Rating: ALMAMEGRETTA (Mamma non lo sa): 7+. The disciples of dub leave it to the Nazionale (Maria) to bring a touch of Neapolitan flair to the Festival, sticking to very few Neapolitan inserts in their text, straightforward and no frills: a modern Via Gluck speaking of the abominations (many) and advantages (not few) that the phenomenon of southern conurbation has caused/brought. Raiz's fluid and precise voice scratches without overdoing it, fitting perfectly with the raggamuffin metrics of the track, and sings a chorus that already hints at a hit. Even the patterns and percussion carry the unmistakable trademark of the band, blending ad-hoc with the orchestral arrangement. Only obvious flaw: a slight overemphasis in the talking, complete with 'white flag'. All in all: this Mamma non lo sa won’t reach the levels [not even close] of a Sudd or Nun te scurdà, but it has put the Alma back on track in great style.
ANNALISA (Scintille): 7-. The representative of Amici di Maria (still... national, but De Filippi) offers a cheerful polketta-pop celebrating the sparks of love. Scarrone is the youngest to tread the scenes of the Fazio-Littizzetto kermesse, yet she does so with veteran-like confidence, allowing her to deliver two performances worthy of recording. In short: the performer is there. The song is carefree enough to last a season and enter the iPods of both adults and teenagers. However, beware of igniting 'illusory' fireworks in future singles, like those 'Satellites flying over ants'. In the long run, they may feel out of place and cause listening indigestion.
MALIKA AYANE (E se poi): 5. On paper, it was one of the favorites. On the compilation, one of the most faded. The Malika-Giuliano duo evokes a Negramarognolo flavor that doesn’t amount to much. The phone calls between the two served more as a psychoanalytic vent than as an attempt to properly sublimate the story just ended with Cremonini. And so, you go from the splendid Ricomincio da qui - which made the orchestral scores soar - to a limp song of unclear origin, only good as filler for the B-side of a B-grade album. Anonymous lyrics, arrangement, melody, and chorus. And what if... it were a success? We wish the talented Ayane well, but we're ready to go all-in on a categorical 'no'.
SIMONE CRISTICCHI (La prima volta [che sono morto]): 6+. What to say about good Simone, who went from the lively 'E meno male che c'è Carla Bruni' to a much less charming paradox? In truth, the song's poetry is original and justifies the '+' in the rating. Not realizing you're dead and having left too many fundamental things undone in a life ultimately anonymous and dictated by frenzy and TV. The idea of the afterlife seen as night school for a second existential chance is also charming. Too bad for the obvious inspiration from Le cose che abbiamo in comune by Silvestri (also a contestant, which we don't find nice...) and for the not-great interpretative skills, which make the piece over time similar to a loud reading of a Palazzeschi work by a third-grader. When, dear Simone, will we get a hit fit for a songbook? ...Oh well: maybe next time.
ELIO E LE STORIE TESE (La canzone mononota): 6 ½. Ah, nonsense. Since our champions of the absurd mentioned Jobim, let's start with criticism: even they didn't have the guts to pursue the goal of a better song. The ‘cannolo woman’ and the heavily made-up 'stylist of the stars' pass on the Ariston stage just once, ok. But the idea of the melody entirely in C, after an intro that seems written by their beloved idol James Taylor, eventually grates. And it serves only to highlight the band's fantastic musicians' extravagant compositional imagination and dynamic performance, which has contributed so much in terms of repertoire and fun. Therefore, for this time let's indulge them and keep them prominently like a gardenia in one's lapel. But next time (if there will be one), we demand at least a new Servi della gleba.
CHIARA GALIAZZO (Il futuro che sarà) 5. We're just not there yet. The record producers of the Belpaese need to get it through their heads, once and for all, that a formidable voice forged in a talent-show pool is not enough to obtain a proclaimed success at and beyond Sanremo. In a text where hyperbole is at home (among all: "Fammi fumare venti d'immenso") and where meaning seems lost with "Portami a bere/oltre le stelle" in the chorus, our talented performer couldn't have navigated better than she did. However, we can highlight nothing beyond her impeccable and notorious intonation. And if we have to deliver the coup de grâce, we come back to the chorus. Take away the orchestration, change the atmosphere, and you have a cheap tango fit for Osteria numero 6.
MAX GAZZE': (Sotto casa): 7-. And Silvestri is still in the mix with a 'small nod' to one of his old tracks. Yet, the Roman with a Belgian childhood is nearly justified: in Banalità (from the splendid double album "Il Dado") he is a bassist and exceptional backing vocal - even thanked in the credits by Silvestri himself for the splendid falsetto he gave the song. But let's return...sotto casa, with Jehovah's Witnesses ringing the bell on Sunday morning. Desire to let them in? None, but if you're great lyricists, like his brother Francesco has been for years, it won't be hard for you to craft a skilfully balanced text with enjoyable sarcasms (the roundup of planets Jesus must save) and tragicomic preconceptions (see the disgraceful 'Men in women's dresses'). Max, too, is rescheduled for September for the off-key interpretation and significant breathlessness. But, as they say in the Urbe: ahò, even this little gem has been pocketed.
RAPHAEL GUALAZZI (Sai [ci basta un sogno]): 6 1/2. The harmony in the chorus isn't bad at all, and corresponds to the authentic Raphael, a crooner with a magic touch on the piano's black and white and liberating singing - even if not quite up to Ray Charles as he would wish. What doesn't excite us is Gualazzi in the verses, where he tries, with not very comforting results, to emulate Paolo Conte of Hesitation. Read it to believe: "le tue volute velleità" and "l'accidia immemore che porta il tempo": these are lexical twists at odds with the melody. Nevertheless, this young Italian expatriate in the field of music can truly be considered a brain drain... towards success. And the consecration won't take long to arrive.
MARTA SUI TUBI (Vorrei). 6+. We would have liked to hear them compete with 'Dispari'. However, televoting favored the more stentorian and convoluted declaration of love for this 'her who caused quite a mess'. Motorpsycho, Mallarmé... Scratch the surface, and the chorus flaunts a Gulino in a Kekko 2 - the revenge version, which apparently is quite... Modà. The track isn't bad at all, yet it suffers from some fundamental form flaws. Firstly, the total - or almost - non-use of the orchestra which could have softened some roughness; then, some really improbable tongue twisters (like the compassion-inducing one dedicated to the 'black sheep'); finally, the urge to show what they're capable of to a much wider audience than that of MEI. Therefore, this 'Vorrei' is a declaration of intent: I'd like to sing something that represents me, instead, I feed you a sound obstacle course that confuses your ideas, but makes you realize how talented I am. Measure is the virtue that denotes maturity...
MARCO MENGONI (L'essenziale): 6=. It's about a return to basics, sidestepping excesses and bad habits that made him lose the right path. It seems like a track that suits the 'Re Matto' best, recently fallen into [economic] ruin. Essential also seems the text, without particular peaks and - fortunately - without horrible poetic exaggerations. Likely winner, as it can count on melody, arrangement, and turbo-Sanremo orchestrations, it surely will have a lucky radio follow-up. However, one wonders if the ex-X-Factor phenomenon is capable of writing/having written for him a success with a capital 'S,' that shelters him from a (financial) world falling apart. It seems, however, Marco has managed to sail through once again.
MODA' (Se si potesse non morire): 4. I'll reiterate for this edition as well: without any irony, Modà are good kids and certainly have great human depth. I like them, really. But when they pick up instruments, they produce songs that 'one wouldn't listen to if they could...'. Not least, this host of protases and apodoses from a second-grade diary ('Even if kisses could be eaten there would be a bit more love and less hunger'), garnished by Kekko's usual high-register voice which seems to mimic the old-school Facchinetti (father). I don't know what else to add except my umpteenth wishes for a success that still sounds inexplicable to me.
SIMONA MOLINARI vs PETER CINCOTTI (La felicità): 5+. The Aquila singer has been noted more in the role of a modern-day pin-up than as an egocentric jazz voice among the most interesting in the Italian panorama. And discographic happiness won't come with this frivolity halfway between an old-fashioned variety show and a Broadway musical without too many aspirations for success. Trumpets and megaphone-voiced choruses of a Cincotti to whom no one in our latitudes will say "Oh, I need you back".
MARIA NAZIONALE (E’ colpa mia): 6. Ample use of the orchestra and unmistakable touch of “Avion Travel” Servillo and Mesolella. If it were just for the music, the score would be much higher, and - to be honest - even Nazionale's rendition surprises for its grace and anti-rude interpretation (barely touched with the cloying "Quando non parlo e mi sto zitta" of the discarded track). The problem lies in the hackneyed drama of jealousy which, as it's represented, adds nothing new to the already heard Neapolitan repertoire. Moves, counter-moves, power plays annihilated in the conciliatory chorus where whoever surrenders admits it’s their fault, to urge their beloved towards a "scordammuce 'o passato" that reconciles spirits. We are from Naples, paisà. But there is more to write and sing about.
DANIELE SILVESTRI (A bocca chiusa): 6 1/2. Sometimes they return, but they do not always surprise. Here he is again, our Daniele who - assisted by a LIS translator - articulates the quintessential protester anthem with measure, gentleness, and calm: all qualities fully belonging to our hero. Aware that "the words [of the demonstrators] are always the same," and that to the eyes of the police officer who will beat them, the kids with banners appear as potential black blocks. At the piano, Silvestri enchants with a beautiful verse, that however doesn't find an equally magical chorus solution. Bare-bones orchestration and muted voice this time reveal all its endurance limits, as the piece doesn't transcend it, having little to share with the 'vibe' of Salirò, nor with the happy cadence of Paranza. We expected yet another miracle from one of the most talented songwriters of the past 20 years, but we can't always demand the multiplication of records and successes from someone - in the end - who is as human as us, and has already often left us... awestruck.
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