Alice -

Alice - Carla's Songs

From the light pop songs of her debut to an unexpected triumph at Sanremo. From her partnership with Franco Battiato to the international evolution that led her to collaborate with world-class musicians. The trajectory of Carla Bissi, alias Alice, a refined and elusive singer-songwriter forever in search of "reality beyond appearance"

by Claudio Fabretti

Long dark hair framing a striking, haughty face, wild eyes and scornful gestures, underscoring the bile-soaked invective delivered by her powerful contralto. The woman who takes the stage at the Teatro Ariston on 5 February 1981 is not exactly "a Sanremo kind of singer". And yet it is she, the dark and brooding Alice, who will go on to win the thirty-first edition of the Italian Song Festival. The credit goes to her, and to a song, "Per Elisa", tailor-made for her by her friend and mentor Franco Battiato. An even more astonishing triumph considering she was up against songs like "Maledetta primavera" (Loretta Goggi), "Sarà perché ti amo" (Ricchi e Poveri) and "Ancora" (Edoardo De Crescenzo), which, besides going on to become evergreens of Italian pop music, had a far stronger appeal by the usual melodic standards of Sanremo.

Not the usual devoted or hopelessly heartbroken lover, then, but a strong, independent woman who spits a torrent of rage and grievances straight in her partner's face. Granted, it was 1981, but this was still Italy, and at Sanremo no less, the very temple of tradition. Plenty of people would turn up their noses. Much the same happened with debutante Fiorella Mannoia, who, in that same edition, proclaimed her sexual self-sufficiency ("Io mi basto da sola") in "Caffè nero bollente".

They don't make good girls like they used to…

(I Didn't) Want to Be Pooh

The artistic story of Carla Bissi, aka Alice, actually begins a few years earlier. Her early work already reveals her talent as a performer, backed by a solid classical training, but it doesn't bring her the right vehicle. It's a genuine apprenticeship, and far from a swift one.

The young Carla Bissi, born in Forlì in 1954, made her debut in 1971 at Castrocaro, where she won the Concorso per Voci Nuove (New Voices Contest) performing the Pooh's "Tanta voglia di lei". The "title" earned her automatic entry to the following year's Sanremo Festival with the song "Il mio cuore se ne va", written by Memo Remigi, but it was a flop: she didn't even make the final. Still, the talent was there, and a year later that old fox Franco Califano noticed it, giving her a song ("La festa mia") that won her the Gondola d'Argento in Venice. In 1973 a third single followed, featuring "Vivere un po', morire un po'", a cover translated by Giorgio Calabrese of Carole King's "My My She Cries", and "Il giorno dopo", the Italian version of "The Morning After", the theme song from "The Poseidon Adventure": nobody took any notice.

It seemed like the premature end of Carla Bissi's musical career, as she left the stage behind and withdrew into a design studio.

Carla Bissi - AliceTwo years later, though, came the resurrection. In place of Carla Bissi there was now the icy (at least in name) Alice Visconti. CBS signed her, but entrusted her to an entourage that offered little room to dream: producer Giancarlo Lucariello and the whole Pooh team, who locked her into a tired soft-pop formula, exemplified by her first official LP, La mia poca grande età. A concept album about a girl's coming of age, from adolescence to maturity, on which her voice (the only element worth noting) is smothered by a bloated musical backdrop of strings and heavy-handed melodies. At least one track works, though: "Io voglio vivere", which would become a huge hit in France in Gerard Lenorman's version, "L'Enfant des Cathèdrales".

Preceded by two fairly successful singles ("Piccola anima" and "Un'isola"), 1978 brought the follow-up, Cosa resta... un fiore, produced once again by the same staff. Another confirmation of Alice's intense interpretive skills, here also on piano, but wrapped in a saccharine sound that tried to turn her into a kind of female version of the Pooh. "E respiro", the single lifted from the album, was written by Riccardo Fogli.

These are two albums that have nothing to do with the direction Alice's career would later take, so much so that she would come to call herself "disgusted" by them.

Egocentric chansons

1980 was the turning point. What launched Alice's career (by now without the surname Visconti) was her move to EMI, along with a corresponding change of team.

The decisive encounter was with Franco Battiato and his most trusted collaborators of the period: Francesco Messina, Angelo Carrara and Giusto Pio. The Sicilian composer took charge of the arrangements, bringing with him his ingenious "pop avant-garde" touch. It was exactly the right fit for the proud, impetuous delivery of the singer from Romagna. A splendid demonstration of this is the single "The Warm Wind of Summer", built in three parts: an opening marked by an obsessive rhythm underpinned by Battiato's trademark keyboards, a refrain introduced by timpani and emphatically underscored by organ, and a more conventional coda, with guitar echoing the chorus. On top of that, the song boasts an instantly catchy refrain (another of Maestro Battiato's gifts), which earned it a chart placing and a spot at the Festivalbar.

It was the right single to drive Capo Nord, an intriguing album that anticipated many of the innovations the Battiato school would bring to 1980s pop: from the heavy use of electronics to ambitious lyrics and solemn choruses.

Alice was now finally at ease, and could fully express her sensibility as a delicate, intimate singer-songwriter, through panels of secluded life and vignettes of autumnal melancholy (above all "Una sera di novembre", with a beautiful piano arrangement underscoring a deeply sweet melody). Tracks like "Bazar" and "Sera" also reveal her distinctive approach to lyric-writing, highly sophisticated and often marked by a biting sense of nonsense.

So the Alice of "Per Elisa" was no stranger to the public, but neither was she yet an established star. Her success at Sanremo, however, brought her an extraordinary, almost overwhelming popularity for someone as shy and reserved as her. She would indeed struggle to carry that weight, soon withdrawing into seclusion once again, but this time backed by a refined, and inevitably more niche, musical proposal.

The self-titled Alice, released in 1981, is nonetheless a successful album, alternating striking pop-wave pieces with others more inclined toward experimentation.

The single "Per Elisa" showcases Alice's extraordinary vocal performance, supported by dense layers of keyboards and a sturdy bass-and-drums rhythm section. That same drumming also drives the following track, "A Te", enriched by a clarinet intro — an instrument that returns to the fore on "Non ti confondere amico" too, another perfect union of Alice's voice and Battiato's enveloping keyboards. "Non devi avere paura" is another dark, dramatic declamation.

But the real added masterpiece on the album is "Una notte speciale": lyrics steeped in the typical exotic fascinations à-la Battiato (“Strane donne col ventre offeso/ danzano sui tacchi a spillo/ Danzano questa notte/ intorno a un fuoco immaginario/ Zingari coperti d’oro/ zingari che sono senza tempo”) marry a prodigious melody and synthetic arrangements very similar to those that would make the fortune of "His Master's Voice" a year later. Alice adds her usual spine-tingling delivery, with that dark, solemn register of hers.

It's "Una notte speciale" that will launch her in Germany, where it will chart for two years and she'll long remain a favorite with critics and audiences alike (perhaps even more so than at home). It's the right occasion for her first European tour.

Alice with Franco BattiatoIn the summer of 1982 the single "Messaggio" comes out, a power-pop anthem propelled by an unexpected (and perhaps ill-advised) saxophone, which breaks into the charts and paves the way for the new album Azimut. Catchier than its two predecessors, the record doesn't give up on bold ideas, especially on the title track: a piano-driven lied with a thorny melodic weave, in which Alice's vocals grow even more acrobatic as they narrate a tale of schizophrenic domestic alienation ("Sono l'angelo della casa io/spolvero, rammendo i calzini, cucino… I am the devil of the house / the Azimuth of a cancelled star"). Still, the overriding impression is one of a partial change of course from the neurotic wave atmospheres of "Per Elisa". More linear, somewhat trite refrains creep in ("A cosa pensano"), along with a repeated use of sax ("Animali d'America") and tighter rock cadences ("Deciditi"). Attempts at "emancipation" from the Battiato sound that nonetheless seem to distort Alice's very essence.

Better, if anything, are the collaborations with Eugenio Finardi, who handles the arrangements on the ballad "La Mano" and pens the folk-pop gem "Laura Degli Specchi", another classy performance, capped off by a lovely violin finale.

Sealing the by-now three-year-old Alice-Battiato partnership is "Chanson Egocentrique", a delightful pastiche of non-sense in a synthetic vein, on which the two sing together for the first time. The experiment is repeated on the other, more lyrical duet, "I treni di Tozeur" (also performed together at the Eurofestival), which will however also prove to be the swan song of a collaboration that may have made Alice's career, but that she always experienced as a kind of cumbersome "guardianship". She'll find ways to repay the debt over the years with a series of small "tributes".

Battiato takes his leave, but Alice doesn't remain alone. Backed by the production and supervision of the ever-present Angelo Carrara and Francesco Messina, the singer-songwriter from Forlì releases Falsi Allarmi (1983), her fourth studio work in four years.

There's a clear will to chase new paths, though without a precise direction just yet.

The mid-tempo "Solo un'idea" turns on vaguely sixties-style melodies, pierced by a swift electric piano solo; "Notte a Roma" is a somewhat glossy ballad, with its mix of acoustic and electronic percussion. More striking, if anything, is "La canzone più bella": a piano intro soon replaced by a bleak synth, and another incredible vocal performance, scaling ever steeper, more vertiginous heights. "Il profumo del silenzio" also dares something different, a sinister nursery rhyme that opens with animal sounds before shutting itself away in the darkness of an impenetrable room, amid mirrors, books and dolls.

Other tracks spin their wheels a bit more: "Osanna" tries to redo the wave sound with a Battiato-style choir (featuring the madrigalists of Milan), "Carthago delenda est" pushes forward on jaunty, swaying Latin rhythms, "Per favore non è amore" is a cadenced spoken piece over bass and drums. Overall, a record that confirms the compositional maturity achieved by the now "independent" Alice, but that also betrays a few too many uncertainties.

As though Battiato's shadow still lingered, along comes the compilation Gioielli Rubati (1985), on which Alice pays tribute to the composer from Catania with a series of covers. "Prospettiva Nevskij", "Luna indiana" and "Un'altra vita" find new, interesting readings in Roberto Cacciapaglia's arrangements. The record earns Alice the Premio Tenco for best performer.

The tribute to the "maestro" marks the end of what had until then been the most thrilling phase of Carla Bissi's career, which in the space of five years took her from a budding pop singer to a polished, elite singer-songwriter, loved by audiences too. A now European audience, as confirmed by the success of "Zu nah am feuer", a duet with German singer-songwriter Stephen Waggershausen that will climb the charts across the Old Continent.

Sounds Without Borders

Alice, who has already — culpably — turned down an offer from American Capitol because it would have forced her to stay out of Italy for three years, now understands she has an international dimension. Among her secret dreams is having an album produced by David Bowie or Peter Gabriel. What she perhaps doesn't know is that she'll soon find the doors opening to some of the most prestigious international collaborations an Italian singer could ever hope for.

The first "supercast" comes together at the Park Hotel in 1986. There are musicians favored by Peter Gabriel himself — Tony Levin on bass and Jerry Marotta on drums — and a sacred monster like Phil Manzanera (Roxy Music) on guitar, but also a formidable Italian musician like Michele Fedrigotti (piano and keyboards). All of it overseen by Francesco Messina, from here on the true deus ex machina of all Alice's productions. What emerges is a new sound, deeper and more percussive, with airy synth arrangements and colorful tones, close to a certain brand of world music then in vogue.

The album's masterpiece, however, bears the signature of another figure destined to leave his mark on Alice's work: Juri Camisasca. An artist outside every mold, reserved and solitary (he withdrew for 11 years to a Benedictine monastery in Umbria), already a longtime collaborator of Battiato's, Camisasca gives Alice the first of a string of gems: "Nomadi". The mystical, evocative lyrics find in Alice's solemn register their ideal vehicle, a Middle Eastern-tinged melody unfurls enchantingly, well underpinned by the rhythm section, all the way to the instrumental climax of the closing section. Battiato will revisit it two years later with new arrangements (more electronic, but just as compelling) on "Fisiognomica". The other triumph is "Volo di notte", a seductive ballad wrapped in blankets of synth and arranged with a class that comes close to the Roxy Music of "Avalon".

Also refined in sound and lyrics are the opening "Il senso dei desideri" and the crepuscular "Viali di solitudine".

Everything is very light, sober and elegant in form, even when the writing is less brilliant ("Conoscersi", "Città chiusa", "Nuvole rosse"). The soft "Luci lontane" had been conceived for another collaboration that never came to pass: the one with Kate Bush.

The "new" Alice is a cultured, hermetic chanteuse, who rejects the stardom and artifice of the 80s. Thus Elisir (1987) goes so far as to give new clothing even to past hits, draining them of all emphasis and rearranging them in a style more suited to her current sound. It's a move that earns her the critics' prize in Germany (by now her second homeland). Alice also wins the Goldenen Europe, while in Japan another compilation is released, Kusumakura, drawing precisely from the last two LPs.

Even more ambitious is the neo-classical venture of Melodie passeggere (1988), which gathers lieder by Satie, Ravel and Fauré performed by Alice in theatres and conservatories, accompanied on piano by Michele Fedrigotti.

AliceEven the little that on Park Hotel still felt approximate turns into magic on Sun in the rain (1989), the album that brings three years of experimentation to fruition, standing at the very peak of Alice's entire discography.

Granted, the cast is truly overflowing: Steve Jansen and Richard Barbieri (that is, half of Japan), two extraordinary trumpeters in Jon Hassell and Paolo Fresu, Dave Gregory of Xtc on guitar, Jan Maidman (Penguin Cafe Orchestra) on bass, the Turkish ney flute player Kudsi Erguner, and, last but not least, Peter Hammill (Van der Graaf Generator). On top of that, there's the hand of Juri Camisasca, who this time pens almost all the (gorgeous) lyrics.

What dominates is that ethno-world mysticism that was exploding in those years, under the guidance of gurus like Peter Gabriel, David Byrne and David Sylvian. Camisasca's lyrics – close to those of his contemporary Battiato – represent an original Italian variant of it, in service of an increasingly sophisticated sound, where the ethereal tones of the synths fuse with the dry timbre of the trumpets and Jansen's unmistakably deep drumming. Amid oases of light and oceans of silence, the songs themselves still stand out, all particularly striking and arranged with rare mastery. The single "Visioni" doesn't give up its pop vein in the chorus, but lets it glide over a sweep of keyboards, accompanying the anchorites' journey through the desert. The title track is an elegy suspended between clouds of synth and marked by African tribal rhythms.

The whole record is a slow ascent from the small things of everyday life to eternity: "Il messaggio è nel silenzio e nella sobrietà" is the lesson taught by "Il tempo senza tempo", a gem of rarefied elegance, with Alice's warm contralto in service of a shadowy melody that would not have been out of place among the "secrets of the beehive" of her idol David Sylvian. And another moving stage of the journey comes at the foot of the "lost continent" of "L'era del mito": Gregory's guitar intro paves the way for another magical ballad, which unfolds into a sweetly tender melody, always carried by the guitar and spiced with an Oriental tabla solo. It's a constant struggle between the corruption of the world and the purity of immensity: thus even "Le baccanti", washing "i capelli scintillanti" while nuclear submarines sink beneath the waves, become an epitome of ancestral innocence.

To widen the range, a trio of more "eccentric" tracks steps in: "Anìn a grìs", a gentle reinterpretation of a traditional song from Friuli (Alice's "adoptive" region), the medieval lament "Orléans" (already revisited by David Crosby on "If I Could Only Remember My Name") here performed a cappella, and the "stretched-out" cover of Finardi's "Le Ragazze di Osaka". "I cieli del Nord", meanwhile, is a new recording of "Le Scogliere di Dover", previously released on the Japanese compilation "Kusamakura" in 1988.

These are original, precious songs, rooted in Italian poetics but with a universal breadth almost entirely unheard of in homegrown productions. It's no surprise, then, that the album closes with a duet (in English) between Alice and his majesty Peter Hammill ("Now And Forever").

Continuing down the path of musical and literary exploration outside the usual patterns, Alice arrives at Mezzogiorno sulle Alpi (1992). A title borrowed from a painting by Segantini, it reveals Alice's passion for the mountains, the ideal antidote to "urban neurosis" and an ascetic refuge for continuing her spiritual journey "beyond appearances". "We're always drawn to the outward, to showy things, like flowers, but the secret of life is in the leaves," she would say when presenting the record.

Mysticism thus renews itself, despite Camisasca's absence, drawing this time more openly from Zen philosophy ("Tim", "Madre notte") and from Japanese culture in general (a haiku by the poet Natsume Soseki opens "Luce della sera").

But there's also room for references to Hesse, Handke, Herzog, for a traditional Transylvanian song in Old Hungarian ("In viaggio sul tuo viso") and for a tribute to Pier Paolo Pasolini in "La recessione", where an excerpt from "La meglio gioventù" is set to music by Mino Di Martino.

The richness of the literary sources is matched by that of the overall sound: from Tim Buckley, whose "Blue Melody" is reread in a jazzy key, to the electronic pop of Roxy Music, from ambient music to blues and jazz territories almost entirely unexplored in her previous work. What remains solid, however, is her rapport with Paolo Fresu, Dave Gregory and Richard Barbieri, now joined by guitarist Jakko Jakszyk.

Overall, though, it's a more hermetic and less sharply focused record than its predecessor, even if still rich in sound and in the performances of its contributors. More than songs, these are open structures, peculiar constructions. Like "In viaggio sul tuo viso", with its trumpet intro (Fresu), the acoustic caresses of the guitar and the vigorous rhythm section backing the vocals, "Passano gli anni", a delicate weave of flutes, guitars and voice, and the variations on the theme of "Neve d'aprile", paced by Gavin Harrison's drumming. "Rain Town", written with Barbieri (like the ethereal "Luce della sera"), evokes drizzly autumn atmospheres, while "Lungo ritorno a casa", with Fresu again in the spotlight, is perhaps the most evocative ballad of all.

A long European tour follows, alongside many of the international collaborators who have become permanent fixtures by her side. But the days of chart-topping hits are long gone: Alice has found a balance that allows her to produce quality music while retaining a solid base of admirers, without being swallowed up by the show-business machine. In May 1994 she takes part in a series of concerts with Arturo Toscanini's symphony orchestra for the (never released) project Art & Decoration, featuring music by Fauré, Ravel, Ives, Montsalvage and others.

Sacred and Sanremo

AliceHaving left Emi (guilty of releasing, without her approval, a remix of "Chanson Egocentrique"), Alice signs with WEA for her new album Charade (1995). "A reflection on life, which is a puzzle, an enigma, a mystery," is how Alice describes it; for the occasion she expands her roster of collaborators with Trey Gunn (King Crimson), Steward Gordon and the California Guitar Trio. The result is a brighter, more vital record, with personal, introspective lyrics, essential melodies and, as ever, meticulously crafted sounds. The rhythmic elements grow denser, with frequent use of the drum machine and near-dance pulses, but the airy ethno-ambient passages and delicately acoustic textures of strings and guitars remain. This time, however, the songwriting is less inspired, and some tracks suffer for it.

The standout tracks are above all "L'apparenza", with its driving rhythm and evocative flute parts, "Dammi la mano amore", another superb vocal performance, and sophisticated ballads such as "Sotto lo stesso cielo", with its ambient coda, and "Nel resto del tempo", once again dealing with the theme of loneliness in big cities. Also worth noting is the title track, written by Mino Di Martino (ex-Giganti), a parable on the illusion of dreams, with a gentle refrain.

A transitional record, ultimately, that tries to open new horizons for a sound that had already given its best in previous works.

Increasingly isolated in her home in the Friulian countryside, far from the spotlight of the music-business, Alice has nonetheless acquired a prestigious role on the Italian scene and a solid reputation across Europe. The risk of this phase, however, is that she might remain trapped in the cliché of the "highbrow singer-songwriter" without managing to produce enough new songs to back up her fame. Decline, in short, is lurking just around the corner, even if it's more than decently disguised by collaborations and live performances. So in 1996 comes another major European tour, alongside Robby Aceto, Ben Coleman, Mick Karn and Steve Jansen.

That same year Alice takes part as both performer and co-writer on Trey Gunn's album "The Third Star", penning the title track.

1997 is another year of collaborations, with Francesco Messina and others on the Devogue project, and on the Bluvertigo album "Metallo non metallo" ("Troppe emozioni").

That same year sees the release of Alice Sings Battiato, which features all the "Gioielli Rubati" songs alongside other tracks written over the previous decade with the Sicilian artist.

But the quality of her music is by now in sharp decline. And it's not enough to be redeemed by the new duet — this time decidedly more in step with current trends — alongside Skye of Morcheeba on "Open Your Eyes", once again bearing the illustrious signatures of Camisasca and Hammill. This sinuous, electronically-tinged pop that runs through the grooves of Exit (1998) is a faded copy of the formula launched with Park Hotel onward, and it ends up in no-man's-land: neither "light" enough to win over the mainstream audience (despite the heavy rotation of the "Open Your Eyes" videoclip), nor refined enough to tickle more demanding ears.

Shaped by a clearly romantic, melodic vein, tracks like the title track or "Dimmi di sì" don't add much to a songbook that is now starting to feel a little predictable in its lyrics (the usual themes of appearance, the search for individual harmony, symbiosis with nature, the yearning for immensity). More than the presence of Morgan ("L'immagine"), it's Vincenzo Zitello's magnificent Celtic harp ("Isole") that elevates the record.

Right after comes the God Is My Dj project, a path along which the Alice-Francesco Messina duo (by now well established for years, both in life and in their artistic work) searches for "the sacred in music", including through concerts held in churches. The self-titled album gathers 15 pieces that range with ease from Gavin Bryars (the famous psalmody "Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet", which he recorded in 1973, in Hyde Park, London, sung by a clochard) to Florian Fricke's "Kyrie" (Popol Vuh), from Arvo Pärt's "Für Alina" to an anonymous eleventh-century piece, passing through Battiato's "Oceano di silenzio" and "L'ombra della luce", the ancestral spirituality of Eleni Karaindrou ("Refugee's Theme"), the Eden of Jane Siberry ("Calling All Angels") and the existential doubts of a vintage David Crosby ("Where Will I Be?").

Just to convince the record label to release the album, Alice agrees to return to Sanremo (in 2000, with another song by Juri Camisasca, "Il giorno dell'indipendenza", which however goes almost unnoticed) and to put together a compilation, Personal Juke Box, featuring classic songs rearranged alongside more recent recordings and three unreleased tracks.

A compromise for the singer-songwriter from Forlì, who is instead more committed than ever to a series of covers, aimed at drawing renewed attention to the importance of poetry in musical work. The idea takes shape in the live project "Le parole del giorno prima", with a programme ranging from Shakespeare to Pasolini, by way of Leo Ferré and many Italian singer-songwriters. The album that follows, released on the independent label Nun, is Viaggio in Italy (2003): a tribute to giants of Italian songwriting such as Ivano Fossati (who writes "La bellezza stravagante" for her), Fabrizio De André, Francesco De Gregori, Francesco Guccini, Giorgio Gaber and the Battisti of the Panella era. "Come un sigillo", already recorded in 2002 for Battiato's "Fleurs 3", marks her return alongside her old mentor, twenty years after "Treni di Tozeur".

In 2004 Alice performs the song "Sospesa", joining Morgan and other artists on the Zerouno project, with artistic production by Luca Urbani.

Between 2006 and 2007 she performs a series of concerts with her new project Lungo la strada, centred on themes such as love, war, poetry, the search for one's self, and faith. In 2009, "Lungo la strada" also becomes the first live album by the Forlì-born singer-songwriter: recorded in the Basilica di San Marco in Milan, it contains both classics from her repertoire (such as "Nomadi" and "Prospettiva Nevskij") and some more surprising choices. For the first time, Alice presents her own personal version of "La cura" by Franco Battiato, pays tribute to her friend and colleague Giuni Russo by performing "A cchiù bella" (the Palermo-born singer, who passed away in 2004, set this poem by Totò to music together with Maria Antonietta Sisini for the work "Napoli che canta") and offers her audience another gem, a cover of "Happiness" by Blue Nile.

Emi has put out a long series of reissues and compilations, confirming a quality that hasn't dulled with the passing of time. The most thorough and interesting retrospective is certainly The Platinum Collection, compiled in 2011 with the involvement of Alice herself, who personally chose every track. Here you can hear the key songs of an entire career, starting with "La festa mia" (recorded as Carla Bissi), "Io voglio vivere" and "Un'isola" (recorded as Alice Visconti). Among the fifty-four songs in the box set, standouts include the duets with Franco Battiato ("I treni di Tozeur" in its original version and "Chanson Egocentrique"), Morgan (a reinterpretation of Lucio Battisti and Pasquale Panella's "Ecco i negozi"), Peter Hammill and Stefan Waggershausen ("Zu Nah Am Feuer" had never previously been included in anthologies made for the Italian market). Another inclusion that makes this triple box set appealing to newcomers and longtime fans alike is a previously unreleased solo version of "Open Your Eyes".

Fragile yet stubborn, fascinating and elusive in her fraught relationship with the music world, Alice continues to explore her own Wonderland through the discovery of sounds and words. Few other Italian singer-songwriters can boast her track record. And her songbook, especially the one from the Eighties, remains one of the most original and refined bodies of work ever produced in this country.

Seemingly vanished from the public eye, Alice returns in 2012 with a new album of original material, Samsara. A gently pop record that brushes up against the noblest, but also the most overused, strands of the Italian singer-songwriter avant-garde. Twelve tracks plus a bonus track, but, aside from the splendid "Un mondo a parte" and "Autunno già", both written by Di Martino, the remarkable "'a Cchiu bella" by Totò and Giuni Russo, and the surprising reinterpretation of "Al Mattino dei Califfi", it's hard to find fully successful episodes. It doesn't help that Steve Jansen's production is exasperatingly polished, at times even mannered, with sonorities that now feel distinctly dated.

Tracks such as "Morire d'amore", inspired by the figure of Joan of Arc and once again written by Di Martino, the one true winner of this album's gamble; "Sui giardini del mondo", written by Alice herself with Marco Pancaldi, ex-Bluvertigo; and the restless "Eri con me" by Battiato and Sgalambro, are of decent standing, but don't fully convince, due to lyrics that are at times overwrought or to a studied melodic immediacy, particularly in the choruses.

"Il cielo", the famous song by Lucio Dalla, which proved moving in live versions, simply doesn't work here on record.

Alice moves confidently between the tracks, but only in the sparest versions does she achieve the perfect fit, lightness and interpretive grace that maturity has given her. It's no coincidence that the tracks mentioned as the most successful are the ones that find their winning formula in the bare essentials of the arrangements. In this sense, the remix of "Cambio casa" is truly embarrassing, attempting a dance makeover on lyrics that are anything but immediate, with disastrous results. The much-touted collaboration with Tiziano Ferro, meanwhile, produces nothing of real interest, save for the meeting of the two voices on "Nata ieri", the album's first single, which is really only notable for the vocal blend, and which one would expect to be followed up with the kind of sweeping melodies Ferro has accustomed us to.

A wasted opportunity and a real disappointment, especially considering that the previous record, Exit, was another similarly questionable episode in a career that we wouldn't want confined solely to an extraordinary, if distant, past.

A Weekend of Surprises

AliceEven with its unconvincing results, though, the 2012 project had been important because it laid the groundwork for a second life for her historic partnership with Battiato. And that it wasn't just a flash in the pan is proven by Weekend (2014), a new self-produced album with Arecibo that would have had all it needed to compete even in the major-label big leagues. The appeal is guaranteed above all by a knockout single that would have thrilled fans of the "Per Elisa" star even back in those years of sweeping success. Credit goes to Francesco Messina, her lifelong partner, who managed to dig up a hidden gem from the mature Françoise Hardy's catalogue, "Tant de belles choses", dating from 2004. One of those timeless chansons that shine with a supernatural melodic grace: entrusting it to Battiato for the Italian lyric adaptation and dressing it in new arrangements, with Paolo Fresu's trumpet to the fore, were the decisive moves that turned it into a new instant classic for Alice, whose proud, restless voice really does seem to be a perfect match for the song's melancholy folds.

But Battiato's contribution doesn't end there, because the tireless Sicilian bard also puts his name to "Veleni", a shrewdly classy song that Fabio Fazio and co. thought it best to exclude from the latest Sanremo, in favour of the "masterpieces" we actually heard. On top of that, Battiato returns to duet with Alice on the splendid "La realtà non esiste" by Claudio Rocchi, in a new version compared to the one already released on the album "Antony/Battiato". And it still sends shivers down the spine, just like in the days of Tozeur.

More surprising – though only up to a point, if one recalls the earlier duet on "Farfallina" (included on "Fisico & politico", 2013) – is the collaboration with Luca Carboni, who lends his languid voice to "Da lontano", a more conventional ballad, with Fresu's trumpet stepping in to ward off any potential saccharine effect. The tribute to Rocchi is rounded out by the new version of "L'umana nostalgia", already shared by the Forlì-born singer together with the songwriter in his original 1994 version. But Alice doesn't forget her international calling, also digging up a gem by Blue Nile, "Christmas". And while it always makes the heart skip a beat to hear Alice retrace the "Viali di solitudine" from "Park Hotel", the new electro-pop of "Un po' d'aria" (written by Luca Urbani-Soerba) and the closing "Qualcuno pronuncia il mio nome", a polished ballad composed by Mino Di Martino, leave less of a mark.

Nothing revolutionary on the horizon, then, but certainly a stylish return, one that fully hits the mark the Romagna-born singer-songwriter had set for herself: showcasing the full range of her interpretive skills, bringing her voice back to centre stage. And who knows, perhaps it will also jog the memory of all those who have unfairly overlooked her in recent years.

 

After accompanying her friend Franco Battiato on stage during one of his last tours and paying tribute to him with another series of dedicated live shows after his death in 2021, Alice returns to performing the songs of the Sicilian maestro on a new album titled Eri con me (2022), a project born during the Covid-19 pandemic.

The songs, all written by Battiato, were chosen with the help of Francesco Messina, a close friend of the Sicilian composer, and recorded in the studio with Carlo Guaitoli (piano, direction) and the orchestra I Solisti Filarmonici Italiani. "These 16 songs are the result of work that began many years ago," Alice has said. "Since the start of our collaboration, I have always felt the pleasure of singing his songs, even bearing in mind my own limitations and vocal abilities."

 

Contributions by Claudio Milano (“Samsara”)

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Discography

ALICE VISCONTI
La mia poca grande età (Cbs, 1975) 4
Cosa resta... un fiore (Cbs, 1978) 4.5
ALICE
Capo Nord (Emi, 1980) 7
Alice (Emi, 1981) 7
Azimut (Emi, 1982) 6.5
Falsi allarmi (EMI, 1983) 6
Gioielli rubati (Emi, 1985) 6
Park Hotel (Emi, 1986) 8
Elisir (EMI, 1987) 6
Mélodie passagères (Emi, 1988) 6.5
Sun in the rain (Emi, 1989) 8
Mezzogiorno sulle Alpi (Emi, 1992) 6.5
The Warm Wind of Summer (anthology, Emi, 1994)
Viaggiatrice solitaria - Il meglio di Alice (anthology, Emi, 1995)
Charade (Wea, 1995) 5
Alice Sings Battiato (anthology, Emi, 1997) 6.5
Exit (Wea, 1998) 5
First Steps (anthology, On Sale Music, 1998)
God Is My Dj (Wea, 1999) 6.5
Personal Juke Box (anthology, Wea, 2000)
Viaggio in Italy (Nun Entertainment, 2003) 6
Made In Italy (anthology, Emi, 2004)
The Best Of Platinum (anthology, Emi, 2006)
Lungo la strada (live, Arecibo, 2009)
The Platinum Collection (triple cd, anthology, Emi, 2011)
Samsara (Arecibo, 2012) 5
Weekend (Arecibo, 2014) 7
Eri con me (Arecibo/Bmg, 2022)
Milestone
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