Coez

Coez’s seventh studio album, two years after the collaborative “Lovebars” (2023, with Frah Quintale), is titled “1998” and is soaked in nostalgia for the past and for lost loves. Underlying the 12 tracks is the sense that, paraphrasing Max Pezzali, the golden years are behind us, and all that remains are regrets, melancholy, and sorrowful memories.

The word “lacrime” appears just 17 seconds into the opening track “Nessun tramonto”, and it’s only the first item in a rather predictable toolkit of emotional, diary-like, and somewhat self-absorbed narratives. “Nessun tramonto, sai / Spaccherà in quattro questa monotonia”—and indeed, various banalities follow: we’re reminded that “da quando nasci muori un poco alla volta” and that on the way back “la strada sembra sempre più corta.” Musically, unsurprisingly, it’s the same formula Coez has been rehashing perhaps too often since the semi-miraculous emotional pop-rap blend of “Faccio un casino” (back in 2017).

There’s relational disillusionment in “Qualcosa di grande” (whose chorus actually dates from that earlier period), and a solid dose of depression in the more electronic “Dentro al fumo” (“Non ci sono per nessuno / Quando il buio mi trascina con sé”); there’s even a throwback acoustic guitar in “Non dire di no”, with more occhi che piangono. Then come more ended relationships, one after the other (“Mal di te”, “Ti manca l’aria”, “Senza te”). Even when the tone is a bit livelier, as in “Roma di notte” (ft. Franco126 & Tommaso Paradiso), we still get “una lacrima”, “occhi rotti”, and the certainty that “eravamo un casino”.

It’s a dive into the past that finds its ideal climax in “Estate 1998”, with a softened pop-punk energy filtered through the usual nostalgia and packed with era references: the canotta di Jordan, gli 883, l’adesivo di Vasco, and so on. The song, a farewell to a friend, is perhaps the one that hits the hardest emotionally.

“1998” too often gets stuck in a limp melancholy full of clichés, delivered through an it-pop sound that’s far too familiar. If, at the end, Coez himself tells us in an electronic-soul closer “fa male guardarlo passare, però il tempo vola”, maybe that time is better spent listening to something else.

01/07/2025