Verdena
Wow

There's no need to revisit the usual debate about shameless copying from Tizio or Caio or their alleged trendiness, risking instead overlooking the most important thing: the feelings and emotions that listening to an album should evoke, which with all these theoretical discussions risk being sidelined and tucked away in a drawer.

Behind "Wow" lies an ambitious project, which greatly expands the stylistic references of the band from Bergamo, pushing to the extreme a heterogeneity that had taken root in the previous stoner-oriented "Requiem," but which here is expanded across coordinates, much to everyone's different preferences.

It's an evocative album, one that once thoroughly explored over time becomes a film in music, with images sometimes in black and white on a semi-deserted and tranquil beach in a pale but sunny desolate winter landscape ("Castelli per aria" - "Sorriso in spiaggia pt. 1" - "Miglioramento"). Except soon the image disintegrates and fades into a dark and bleak panorama, reminiscent of antiquity, the smell of burned cigarettes, toxic fumes, and memories of old projections ("Micoltivo" - "Lui gareggia" - "Rossella roll over" - "Sulciglio").

But don't be deceived: it is nonetheless the trio's brightest work.

Verdena have opened windows, doors, balconies, and a light that at times is crystal clear and pure but never blinding ("Nuova luce," "Grattacielo") enters, permeating your soul, gently caressing your face like a light morning breeze, and almost imperceptibly takes and leads you by the hand.

A light that, however, should be carefully noted, does not always have the same intensity but tends to have different shades and tones depending on the place, with there also being shades of gray that sometimes become soft and sometimes fade into a jet black that we enjoy so much.

The duration is long but nothing prohibitive or insurmountable; even the canonical length of individual tracks helps, especially if the mind rewinds back to the suites of the second album or the already mentioned "Requiem," which last, calculator in hand, even slightly more than the double album reviewed here.

It's a pop work that makes judicious and flexible use of the mother tongue, not violated as often happens with many Italian bands: crooked, distorted, somewhat psychedelic pop, the kind that takes you on a free journey through its polished nooks and crannies and its geometrically contained abrasions, without necessarily having to roll a joint at six in the evening.

Never before has the singer Ferrari ventured so frequently with keyboards, which ultimately form the pillar of the album, with the guitar no longer being the sole and exclusive prima donna but having to sharpen swords with the other Ferrari’s synths.

The lyrics, while at times may seem nonsensical, are actually their peculiarity, not a flaw.

The risk of dispersion is avoided, and by the end of the ride, there are completely absent parts that clash with the rest. You can at most speak of rare minor episodes, but it's up to the discretion of your own ears to identify them, without detracting from the high quality of the platter.

No need to go to the cinema, no need for 3D, no need for an HD TV; you just need a pair of headphones and a good couch to be transported to another dimension and live a sensory experience, and don't roll the joints, they're harmful.

Take it easy.