Krisma - The synth-pop duo

In 1977, from the pages of the New Musical Express, right in the midst of the punk explosion, the name of an Italian duo playing “synthetic rock” was compared to that of the Velvet Underground. In an international landscape where Italy's musical avant-garde has rarely shone for the prestige of its names, that fact alone would be reason enough to dig deeper into the story of Maurizio Arcieri and Christina Moser. And yet almost nothing has been done on that front: hampered also by a dismal lack of reissues of their albums, the name Krisma is too often relegated to the realm of pop-culture curiosities, fit at best for revivalist talk shows hosted now by the (not always) well-meaning Red Ronnie, now by the evergreen and (former?) alluring Amanda Lear. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but the point is that the duo hold an artistic standing far higher than the one they're usually granted.

Krisma (originally Chrisma, from “Chris” and “Ma”, a blend of their two names) came into being in 1976. Maurizio Arcieri was 31 and already had a notable past in the Italian rock scene of the Sixties behind him, first as the leader of the mod band “New Dada”, who had the honor of opening for the Beatles on their Italian tour, and then as a solo artist until the early Seventies; Christina Moser was a young, striking fan of his, who would soon become his wife as well as his vocal alter ego.

The debut of the newly married Arcieris was hardly a memorable one: the move to London and the collaboration with Polygram's new artistic director, Nico Papathanassiou, and his brother, the celebrated composer Vangelis, produced the single “Amore”, which, for all its timid hints of an easy-listening avant-garde, ultimately didn't stray far from the sugary, kitsch-tinged melancholic europop so fashionable at the time. Already the second single, “U”, while still soft in tone and with arrangements that were almost too fussy, marked a small step toward what was about to happen: just think of its dreamy synthesizer melody and intimate mood, which could easily hold its own against “La Femme d'Argent” by the deservedly acclaimed Air of today.

The metropolis that was about to witness the explosion of bands like the Sex Pistols, Ultravox and the Stranglers didn't take long to cast its spell on Maurizio and Christina, who in 1977 released their first album, Chinese Restaurant, preceded by the lascivious electronic tango “Lola”: the whole album was sung in English, confirming the ambitious international scope the Chrisma intended to give their music. The impact was striking: the blatantly punk “look”, complete with safety pins stuck through their faces, bleached hair and scruffy black-and-grey outfits, but above all the electronic rock of the nine tracks, stirred up real controversy among an Italian audience that considered itself “musically evolved” and was still drunk on progressive rock. During the band's turbulent promotional tour for the album, in which a heavily politicized crowd grew convinced that Chrisma were right-wing provocateurs playing martial music, Maurizio severed one of his fingers with a razor blade in the middle of a concert. The aim of shocking and scandalizing was spectacularly achieved: although the gesture went well beyond even its author's own intentions — he had to be rushed to the hospital to have the severed finger reattached — it forced the newspapers to take notice of this hard-to-classify homegrown meteorite, which had crashed in to disrupt an Italian scene still tightly bound to the historic names of our golden progressive era.

Beyond the tabloid gossip, we shouldn't forget that the album contains genuine gems of the nascent new art-rock, such as the psychogenic “Black Silk Stocking”, the droning synthetic mantra of “C-Rock”, the obsessive “What For”, and the explicit tribute Maurizio pays to his idols with “Thank You”, in which he lists, among others, the names of Iggy Pop, Mick Jagger, Roxy Music, and “… everyone else we have forgotten in words but not in thoughts…”. It's hardly a stretch to place Chinese Restaurant alongside the finest debut albums the new wave of British acts put out that very same year, 1977.

Their prolonged and self-imposed exile in London bears its richest fruit in 1979, the year of Hibernation, which would prove to be their masterpiece, even if it failed to translate into high sales. The outrageous clip for the sultry "Aurora B", which immortalises the two of them in erotic simulations and a disturbing fake suicide, the shimmering silver cover depicting Christina and Maurizio in oblique poses, and the equally silver vinyl itself are nothing more than the alluring packaging wrapped around the most accomplished electronic rock experience Italy has ever produced.

The album is again produced by Nico Papathanassiou and distils icy melodic territory close to the more romantic side of Kraftwerk, spiced up though by Christina's sultry vocalising ("Aurora B", "We R", "Lover"), alongside terse, strongly urban post-punk rock numbers ("Gott Gott Electron", "So You Don't"). Special mention goes to the memorable synthetic gallop of "Vetra Platz", which describes the life that unfolds in a famous Milan park (the gardens of Piazza Vetra, precisely), a place for families and the monotonous bustle of busy people by day, which by night becomes a dark haven for the marginalised: a track that would not have been out of place even on the ultra-classic album "Reproduction" by Human League, released, as it happens, that very same year.

The record, while not matching the sales of its predecessor, earns flattering critical acclaim both in Italy and across the rest of Europe, Britain included, and lays the groundwork for the definitive commercial breakthrough that comes in 1980 with Cathode Mamma, and in particular with the single "Many Kisses", a catchy, irresistible electropop song embellished with arrangements that once again place Krisma (it was here that the name took on its definitive spelling with a "k") at the forefront of sound and exploratory attitude combined with accessibility. Cathode Mamma decisively sheds the leaden, urban atmospheres of Hibernation to veer towards a sparkling, accessible synth-pop, aided by the authoritative, ongoing collaboration of Hans Zimmer, who had already worked alongside Ultravox and Buggles, and who later became a hugely sought-after film composer (the soundtrack to Disney's "The Lion King" even earned him an Oscar). Also worth noting is the well-judged "multimedia" approach found both in the lyrics and the artwork, further proof that, once again first in Italy, Krisma grasped the importance of pairing new technology with media, conceived as an essential vehicle for spreading the new pop music. To give this record its proper due, one need only think of all the synth-pop albums causing a stir that same year in Britain: Cathode Mamma is the result of an artistic transformation begun in 1977 by a European group operating fully within its own time, and certainly not one of the many products of Italian provincialism built on imitating foreign models — the defining phenomenon of most of the domestic scene from the beat era to today, which in the 1980s found its uneven expression in much of the so-called "Italo Disco".

In 1981 Krisma break with Polygram and sign a contract with Cgd, which, in light of everything said so far about the band's artistic potential and the encouraging audience response achieved up to that point, invests considerable money in the production and promotion of the new record, Clandestine Anticipation, released in 1982.

It's likely that the executives at Cgd hadn't reckoned with Arcieri's eclecticism, who uses the opportunity granted to him not to churn out an "easy listening" record, but to give free rein to his most boldly experimental impulses. Thus, in a context that also produced two gorgeous yet costly videoclips, "Miami" and "Samora Club", which fans of the TV show "Mister Fantasy", hosted by Carlo Massarini, will surely remember, along with cover artwork designed by graphic-design king Mauro Convertino, the new record is a vigorous foray into the most extreme and hypnotic electronic techno, underpinned by vocal lines of clearly dark persuasion. Needless to say, the ambitious project, which nonetheless earned significant and well-deserved critical acclaim (the Afro-electronic pulse of "Miami" reaches heights of sonic dynamics and electronic rhythm that still astonish today), turns out to be a resounding commercial flop: from that point on, Krisma would be numbered among the so-called "cult artists", even if, as we'll see, they would still manage to make themselves heard. 1982 is also the year of their move to New York, the city where the duo set to work recording the album that would be released the following year, Nothing To Do With The Dog, whose title-track 12" is released in America on none other than the Atlantic label, alongside a reissue, again on mix disc, of the glorious hit single "Many Kisses". The record is played entirely on a small Casio keyboard, modified for the purpose by Maurizio, and the lyrics are co-written with Arto Lindsay: only the uneven inspiration of the tracks keeps the album from living up to Arcieri's once again brilliant sonic intuitions.

What follows sees our duo taking part in various TV programmes, starting with regular appearances on Red Ronnie's shows — he had always been a fervent supporter of theirs, to the point of choosing, in 1986, the successful electronic earworm "Be Bop" as the theme tune for his hugely popular show "Be Bop A Lula". This single appears on the album Iceberg, which alternates, even more than its predecessor, between moments of great inspiration and uncertain slips into less effective tracks, often straying into harmless electropop ditties; a sign that Krisma were no longer entirely sure of their direction, torn between the desire to pursue purely artistic goals and the irrepressible temptation to break into the charts again.

Their final record came out in 1989 and is titled Non Ho Denaro: sung entirely in Italian, it's a work best forgotten, exactly the kind of record you hope never to hear from a great band. But the artistic arc of Krisma doesn't end here at all, going on to focus on their second great love: television, the "Cathode Mamma" indeed. For many years they worked on and collaborated with Raitre programmes "Pubblimania", "Fuori Orario", "Blob", "Sat Sat", thus finding themselves actively involved in some of the most important new formats of television communication: musical avant-garde becoming media avant-garde, which reached its crowning achievement with "KrismaTv", their satellite channel which for a long time broadcast from Eutelsat.

Recent years have seen a surprising new wave of interest in the story of Krisma: Maurizio spent long periods tirelessly throwing himself into blazing DJ sets and laptop improvisations at various clubs (Cocoricò in Riccione chief among them), and Subsonica brought them on board for the track "Nuova Ossessione", the second single from their successful album "Amorematico". In 2001, alongside an unreleased but unremarkable single titled "Kara", a compilation of their hits came out, entirely re-recorded, unfortunately in a rather hasty fashion: this project perhaps flattens an artistic body of work developed over many years, somewhat diminishing the charm of their classics, and proving a bit misleading for those encountering this fantastic band for the first time.

Rumours still had Krisma in the studio, ready to unleash a new and startling set of techno-disco material, though this ultimately remained a project only on paper. But honestly, we're fine with how things turned out: the names of Maurizio Arcieri and Christina Moser are already etched among the important figures of a truly innovative musical era, one that began for them in 1977 and ended in 1983, even allowing for the odd pleasant flare-up afterwards. But from that era, no one will ever be able to erase them, and that's no small thing.

In October 2011 an audio-biography of Krisma was published, edited by Luciano Joyello Triolo. Titled "CHyberNation", it consists of a 96-page volume retracing the band's history, with a long exclusive interview, detailed profiles dedicated to each of their records, a curated press roundup spanning from 1978 to the new millennium, and dozens of illustrations. Included in the package is an unmissable tribute album, featuring sixteen covers by as many up-and-coming bands, plus two unreleased tracks recorded for the occasion directly by Maurizio and Christina. "CHybernation" stands as tangible proof of the love new generations hold for Krisma, regarded as a key group in the evolution of a certain strand of dance-leaning electronic music.

On 30 January 2015 came the news of the sudden death of Maurizio Arcieri, who passed away at the age of 72. Seven years later, Christina Moser also left us, passing away at 70 in Lugano after a long illness.

Krisma are no longer with us, but their musical legacy remains alive and as forward-looking as ever.

Contributions by Claudio Lancia ("CHyberNation")

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