Osanna - Mediterranean Prog

The Italian prog scene of the Seventies was not that of a colonized country, a mere epigone with no personality of its own compared to the English-speaking masters, but a scene varied enough to give rise to significant bands from North to South, with notable differences from region to region, tied to local cultural peculiarities. In this surge of youthful creativity, the Naples scene, rich in Mediterranean references, gave rise to an innovative and original way of approaching progressive rock. Within this context, Osanna stand as the main reference point, as well as one of the key bands of the entire national scene alongside Pfm, Banco, Orme and Area.

Formed in 1970 from the union of musicians coming from Volti di Pietra and Città Frontale, the band was made up of singer and guitarist Lino Vairetti, guitarist Danilo Rustici (brother of Corrado of Cervello), bassist Lello Brandi, drummer Massimo Guarino, and saxophonist and flautist Elio D'Anna, who came from Showmen and was a disciple and admirer of David Jackson of Van Der Graaf Generator. Osanna were the first to enrich Italian pop-rock with a strong theatrical element, something that Genesis or Arthur Brown's Crazy World were doing in those same years. Their concerts were a splendid union of music and theatrical spectacle that represented a unique chapter in the Italian underground scene. Among their most notable appearances were the Caracalla Festival (1971), the Viareggio Festival of Avant-Garde and New Trends in Music (1971), and the Villa Pamphili Pop Festival (1972).

But leaving aside appearances, it's impossible not to highlight just how much Osanna's music stands out for its originality. Initially influenced by beat music and psychedelia from Britain, within a year or two they managed to blend the Crimson-esque musical experiments, Fripp's mellotron, the crepuscular moods of Van Der Graaf Generator, the colors of Genesis, and the folk hints of Jethro Tull with the folk tradition of Southern Italy — something that would hardly have been imaginable in the early Seventies.

The idea is pioneering, and will reach its absolute peak with Palepoli.

These were the years when everything was starting in Italy, a few years behind the US or Britain. Psychedelic rock hadn't really broken through in our country, but the baroque pop-rock of Procol Harum, the Zombies or the Moody Blues had instead sparked renewed interest in British music. A segment of Italian listeners — probably the less conventional ones — fell under the spell (more so than in any other European country) of a new kind of pop music that drew partial inspiration from classical music, not to legitimize itself, but to create something more complex and layered than the standard pop song.

After the debut of King Crimson, British progressive rock exploded, and its shockwaves reached Italy within just a few years.

In this transitional phase, Osanna make their debut with L'uomo (1971), an LP that, together with the Trip's 1970 debut, can be seen as the missing link between the psychedelic era and the first stirrings of progressive rock. L'uomo is still an album rooted in blues-leaning psychedelic pop, but it's already far less lysergic than the Trip and decidedly closer to an embryonic progressive sound.

The opening instrumental track, "Introduzione," is an almost striking example of this, bearing pioneering traits that showcase musicians of marked originality — in particular the band's two pillars, the dazzling saxophonist and flautist Elio D'Anna and the original, surprising guitarist Danilo Rustici, author of riffs and solos that are never conventional. They are the band's driving force, with their personal, largely non-academic style — which is precisely what makes it so interesting and innovative.

L'uomo is a typical product of its era, ranging from Hendrix-style guitar work ("Lady Power") to Cream-style hard blues ("Vado verso una meta"), always tinged with the influence of the early Jethro Tull. The title track is the most representative song, with flute, guitar arpeggios, some extraordinary moments from Elio D'Anna, a final choral passage, and lyrics that foreshadow the quest for the pure man that would reach its apotheosis on their third LP. A perfect prog-rock track, arguably a new template for the future of Italian progressive songwriting.

Psychedelic moments abound, from the intro of "In un vecchio cieco," distinctly close to early Pink Floyd, to the aggressive riff of "Non sei vissuto mai," which then stretches into a varied, lysergic instrumental passage before the shouted finale. The lyrics again return to the theme of man, in this case a man subjugated by the rules of the market — a man who "has never truly lived."

The album is a success, and Osanna make a name for themselves through various concerts. In 1972 they're approached to record — alongside composer Luis Bacalov — the soundtrack for the landmark poliziottesco film by Fernando Di Leo, "Milano Calibro 9," one of the most iconic films of that extraordinary era of Italian cinema. It wasn't the first time Bacalov had worked with a prog band — he'd already done so to excellent effect on "Concerto grosso per i New Trolls" in 1971. Milano Calibro 9 OST is no less impressive. The idea of combining baroque classical music with rock has claimed plenty of victims over the years, but in Bacalov's collaborations the results have always been masterful. Classical music blends with progressive rock almost naturally, never giving the impression of a forced commercial gimmick, but rather of a natural fusion of two different styles, where neither one diminishes the other.

"Preludio" and "Tema" are the two central moments of the record, where Vivaldi-style baroque alternates with Osanna's progressive sound with astonishing ease. The long series of "Variazione" tracks is typical of poliziottesco soundtracks, with brisk beat sounds that would later be plundered by a long line of imitators.

Buoyed by this moment of glory, Osanna are pushed to take even greater risks. In 1973 they release their unmatched masterpiece Palepoli, one of the most important albums in the entire Italian progressive scene.

Palepoli depicts the ideal city, the only place where man can truly be happy, a place where the "anthropological mutation" described by Pasolini has not yet occurred. A city where man is still truly man, where his virtues are not yet measured in money, where there is still room for a human being not yet reduced to a mere "consumer." Osanna's progressive rock thus looks to the past. The same genre that elsewhere had been a futuristic thrust, an attempt to push beyond the limits of one's own era, becomes with Osanna a nostalgic, resigned memory of a bygone age — perhaps one that never even existed. In this way, Osanna manage to unite innovation and tradition. The music is innovative, but the lyrics tell of a return to old values that still survive in an ancient, imaginary city where friendship, equality and respect for others have not been lost.

The format they chose is typical of the golden age of international progressive rock: two long suites, one for each side of the vinyl — "Oro caldo" and "Animale senza respiro" — with a very brief interlude, "Stanza città." "Oro caldo" (eighteen minutes) is marked by a constant shifting of styles and rhythms. At first it immediately conjures the feeling of a Neapolitan market, before moving into Crimson-esque passages, melodic spaces, bluesy interludes with a superb Elio D'Anna switching between flute and saxophone, right up to moments reminiscent of Wakeman's keyboard work. Osanna manage to play almost anything without ever slipping into the banal. Nothing like it had ever been heard in Italy before.

After a brief interlude ("Stanza città"), we arrive at the second suite, "Animale senza respiro" (21 minutes). Here the influence of early King Crimson is more evident, but the whole track is an ambitious, complex collage of jazz-rock, unexpected glimpses of electronic experimentation, acoustic passages, poetic concessions and furious episodes caught between blues and hard rock. Within this richly varied context, Osanna depict the breathless animal. It stands in total opposition to the ideal man who inhabits the imaginary city of Palepoli — it is man absorbed into consumer society, whose only interest is his own personal gain.

A grand hymn to modernity (the music) and, at the same time, to hopeless nostalgia (the lyrics), Palepoli remains an unmatched chapter of Italian and European progressive rock, one that rightfully places Osanna on an imaginary podium alongside Pfm and Banco as one of the three most representative historic bands of Italian prog.

For Osanna, this is the golden moment of their career. Unfortunately, though, it will last only a very short time. In June 1973 they organize the "Be-In" pop festival at Camaldoli, three days of free live prog-pop music. The result, however, is a disastrous financial failure that begins to strain the band's internal relationships. Everything seems to be fading away, right at its peak.

After a series of live shows aimed at recouping the financial damage, they release Landscape Of Life (1974), a work born as an attempt to break into the international market. The goal is evident right from the cover, clearly inspired by Yes, and from the fact that five of the seven tracks are sung in English. In any case, both the title track and "Il castello dell'Es" are two excellent progressive tracks that recall the style of their finest days. For the rest, the magic is now lost and the band seems to have already packed its bags, so much so that the last three tracks are recorded by outside collaborators. Elio D'Anna leaves the group, which, without his strong personality, will never manage to return to its golden years.

The band's 1978 return with Suddance takes them from English to Neapolitan dialect and towards sounds closer to jazz, with a style more akin to Napoli Centrale than to the classic progressive scene, and with a few interesting moments too, but overall only the name seems to remain of the real Osanna. Corrado Rustici also leaves, and Osanna disband for good.

From the Eighties onward, their fate is similar to that of almost every prog band: oblivion, before the great revival of recent years.

Starting in 2003, they begin a series of live shows that will eventually lead to their sixth studio album, Palepolitana (2015). After forty-two years, Palepoli becomes Palepolitana, an act of pure love for a city too often humiliated and wronged by prejudice and clichés. To realize this ambitious project, Lino Vairetti has at his disposal a completely renewed band and top-tier collaborations ranging from the crystalline voice of Sophya Baccini to the legendary David Jackson of Van Der Graaf Generator, as well as Gianni Leone, Jenny Sorrenti and Corrado Rustici.

It's difficult, perhaps even impossible, to measure up to the towering Palepoli. The choice, then, is to turn the page entirely. The two long experimental suites – "Oro caldo" and "Animale senza respiro" – give way to as many as twelve tracks, none of which exceeds four minutes. The pieces are brief explorations of various popular genres, ranging from the tarantella reimagined in prog form on "Michelemmà" to the moving love anthem to Naples "Santa Lucia", from the Neapolitan folk of "Fenesta Vascia" to the rock of "Ciao Napoli" and the more melodic compositions, such as "Canzone Amara" – masterfully performed by Sophya Baccini – "Anni di piombo" and "Made In Japan", while "Palepolitana" is the track that, with its sharp riffs, most closely echoes the earlier Palepoli.

It closes with the moving "Profugo", a free interpretation of a strikingly topical poem by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish, sung by Irvin Varietti, Lino's son.

2021 marks the band's fiftieth anniversary. It's the right year to celebrate this longevity with Osannaples, the documentary film by director Deborah Farina, which aims to take stock of the history of Vairetti and co.'s band and its bond with the city of Naples.

It's also the year of the new LP Il diedro del Mediterraneo, a work that increases the influence of his son Irvin Luca. Overall it's a highly professional, well-produced album, with typically progressive sounds ("Ti ritroverò", "Mare Nostrum"), links to past hits ("L'uomo del prog"), and nostalgic references to historic Italian festivals ("Caracalla 71").

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