Vegetable G
Calvino

VEGETABLE G

Calvino (Olivia Records, 2009)

It is now established that aliens have been on Earth and that, in their wandering, they have met Calvino. And that QFWFQ is still roaming, as it did back then, somewhere in the galaxy. This is evidenced by this splendid cover - photo - illustration (signed by Gianni Troilo) of the latest album by the Apulian Vegetable G ... but how to place this mysterious presence in space, time, and the musical universe is not so simple.

Album homage to the "Cosmicomics" of the most international of Italian writers of the '20th century, "Calvino" is the second breath of fresh air (after "Genealogy") that Vegetable G offers to the Italian indie scene. Without pretensions of classification or exhaustiveness, we could define the emerging Italian scene as essentially divided into two branches: on one side the shoegaze trend, tougher, darker and akin to the lesson, of which a recent emblem could be the beautiful (but somewhat repetitive) "Our Secret Ceremony" by Julie's Haircut (but also Yuppie Flu, Giardini di Mirò); on the other, a markedly more pop - new wave trend, which does not disdain acid inserts and does not forget (and indeed assimilates) the sounds ranging from the Beatles to the gloomy '80s... Vegetable G is there, along with (with many differences, depending on the musical translations) A Toys Orchestra, Edwood, and frankly, not much else.

And they cut a fine figure. Because in the de-provincialization of sounds, they do not adapt to a set cliché but, while not technically inventing anything new, they create an innovative mix, a continuous search for unexplored galaxies. The beautiful "Arcade Lovers", with a beautiful piano attack, in its carefree pace seems to retrace its predecessor "The Cox Man" paving the way for the title track "Calvino", which draws the lunar landscapes that will be encountered throughout the album, suspended between pianos, Rhodes, synths and acid guitars. Notable is the delightfully out-of-register "American Lessons", a subdued march that, in its elegant rock pace, incorporates in the finale the anthem of Mameli and the American one, the acid guitars (the attack is wonderful!) of the curt "Electric Show" that are skillfully inlaid with the synths, the very elegant "Satellite Tune" suspended between music boxes and basses, up to the cosmicomic "Space Forms", a walk among space wrecks and pirate galleons in Blur style, detachment in Battiato style (speaking of international artists) and pace in "Satan Eats Seitan" by Julie's Haircut. It is the peak of the album, we no longer know in which dimension we find ourselves.

It starts more punk "Starchild" (because not even aliens would come out alive from the '80s), and the earth is seen in the distance. The refined strings on acid guitar of "Saucerman" pave the way for the beautiful Baustelle-style crescendo of "BW" and the cheerful "Hal". Altogether (and that's not a little) no dull moments, the walk is a real pleasure.

It results in an interesting album, intelligently arranged, less monumental than "Genealogy"; "Complicity" had fascinated us with its being pretentiously (but not gratuitously) Bowie of the new millennium, but here the atmospheres begin to suspend themselves. Certainly a more pop recording with many interesting variations for the live performance (one of the group's strengths): having already seen them, the trio will hardly give up the noisier aspects, but many pieces easily lend themselves to a more intimate reinterpretation, almost like a secret show. We await them at the pass with a certain curiosity.

The ending is with the earthly (!) and warm "X-clock", with its magnificent arpeggiated and melancholic guitars... "...once when passing I made a mark at a point in space, just to be able to find it two hundred million years later, when we would pass by again on the next round..."  recites the sparse album booklet (actually they are still "The Cosmicomics") ... it is the moment of the encounter, of the passage from a point known before the big bang and the beginning of another round. Before starting another listen. No trace of QFWFQ... and well, Calvino is still Calvino.