Banco

Adamo è morto ormai e la mia genesi

not of men but of quadrumans

The Banco del Mutuo Soccorso represented for Italian prog what King Crimson represented for English prog: a model to be regarded with reverential awe, a peak that was practically unreachable. Blessed with an intricate, convoluted style and capable of flights of fancy unmatched in Italian progressive rock, they managed to bring together two very different pianistic approaches - that of brothers Gianni and Vittorio Nocenzi (the former more classical, the latter more jazz-inflected) - alongside the profound lyrics of Francesco Di Giacomo, who, with due differences, was Italy's answer to King Crimson's phenomenal lyricist Peter Sinfield. Banco also gave voice to aspects of the Italian society of their time: the need for a different kind of music, one able to leap beyond both the simple beat sound in vogue a few years earlier and the standard conventions of traditional Italian song, and to hold its own against the giants of English-language prog.

There was also a need for a less physical, more intellectual approach to music, far removed from the classic protest-song format, ready to engage with political, social, religious and scientific themes, enriching its own vocabulary with the modern British music scenes of the time (Genesis, Gentle Giant, ELP, King Crimson, Yes, etc.). In this respect, Banco hit their target remarkably well: their music is constantly dual in nature, split into elements that coexist without one overpowering the other (classicism and modernity, lyrics and music of equal weight). On one hand, extraordinary displays of virtuosity - with long, highly elaborate solos; on the other, lyrics that reveal deep philosophical and literary knowledge, as well as an ability to engage with the Italy divided in two during the 1970s. All this shows that Banco's key works are meant not only to be listened to, but also to be read.

If prog, faced with a choice between escapism and social critique, certainly leans toward the former (with two noble exceptions, Robert Wyatt and part of the Canterbury scene, plus Area and the Rock In Opposition movement), Banco firmly choose the latter, delving into themes tied to war, individual freedom, philosophy, and the conflict between science and religion - all within a strictly progressive framework, yet miles away from the escapist tendencies typical of much of that world. "Darwin!" (1972), their second album after the fantastic self-titled debut, is emblematic of all these traits, with lyrics and music that still feel modern and relevant today.

I believe that this kind of rock they call progressive was, when it was born, an avant-garde experiment, because music, like anything else, has to be placed in the context in which it's born. If we think of Caravaggio today as a classic, for instance, when Caravaggio painted his pictures it was an incredible revolution. He thought about electric light, about theatrical cuts of black and white, four hundred years before Edison discovered the light bulb. If we see him today as a classic, then he was avant-garde back then, an innovator. Banco today is a classic, but we were certainly avant-garde, deeply avant-garde. Clearly, that made life difficult for us in some ways, but it gave us staying power in others.

(Vittorio Nocenzi)

"Darwin!" is indeed a pioneering work, whether we compare it to the Italian scene or broaden our horizons beyond national borders. As happens with the most mature concept albums, the record can't be properly explored without examining both lyrics and music together. The theme is obviously evolutionism, Darwin's theory now accepted by the entire scientific community, yet still - due to prejudice, religious bigotry and reactionary ideologies - subjected to the scornful judgment of those who have nothing to do with the world of science. The choice of evolutionism, at a time when creationist theories still enjoy wide credit across a significant part of the Western world, therefore feels remarkably relevant even today, striking right at the heart of that indelible conflict between truth and prejudice, between faith and scientific evidence, between science and religion.

The concept album follows an ideal journey from the birth of the Earth to the formation of the atmosphere, from the primordial stages of "unseen life" to the first complex life forms which - starting from a common ancestor - would evolve all the way to man. From ferns to birds, from bacteria to the first mammals. Man represents the most complex point of evolution, through the passage of primates who, laboriously and over millions of years, attain the status of Homo sapiens.

The sense of fatigue weighs like a boulder over an evolutionary path made of suffering, adaptation to shifting environmental conditions, random genetic mutations and death. From "La conquista della posizione eretta" to the first experiments in socialization ("Cento mani e cento occhi") lived perpetually in the tension between two opposing instincts (individual freedom and the need for community), all the way to two of the most "evolved" feelings. On one hand, love ("750.000 anni fa… l’amore?"), a feeling so complex and powerful that it creates suffering in those who lack the words to express it; on the other, the fear of what comes after life and the plea for more time ("Miserere alla storia"), up to extinction ("Ed ora io domando tempo al tempo ed egli mi risponde… non ne ho!").

The first track is "L'evoluzione" (14 minutes), one of the masterpieces of "Darwin!", an absolute peak in terms of musical complexity, with an incredible synthesis between the piano and Hammond organ of the Nocenzi brothers and Marcello Todaro's guitar. It opens by trying to get the listener to imagine an idea different from the one sold for centuries as dogma to hundreds of generations.

Prova, prova a pensare un po’ diverso, niente da grandi dei fu fabbricato, ma il creato s’è creato da sé

We arrive at the origin of the first forms of life, born in water, all the way to the most complex animals and to man, always through the mechanism of continuous adaptation.

Shapeless beings the sea vomits, swept in heaps onto putrid shores, in murky packs the land takes them in as, crawling, they climb atop their own kind, and time will change these flaccid bodies into forms fit to survive.

It's all there, from adaptation for survival to the consequent denial of every biblical tale ("Adamo è morto ormai"). After a burst of synth and piano halfway between classical music and Emerson-esque prog, it arrives at an ending of great poetry: the sun, which warmed an uninhabited Earth, now "understands" that its heat will be perceived by sentient beings.

Alto, arabescando un alcione stride sulle ginestre e sul mare, ora il sole sa chi riscaldare

Everything is the fruit of a colossal evolutionary path devoid of a creative mind or – as philosopher William Paley would put it – of a watchmaker (Paley's watchmaker analogy was one of the arguments most often used by his contemporaries against Darwin, and held that anyone walking alone in a wood who found a watch on the ground could never think – given the extraordinary complexity of the object – that it could have formed by itself over the centuries, but would necessarily have to imagine a creative mind).

But evolution is a harsh and cruel concept, especially for individuals less well adapted to their environment. This concept is clearly expressed in "La conquista della posizione eretta", divided into an instrumental first part (finding references to other prog bands would be reductive of the band's compositional originality) and a second part where Di Giacomo's anguished lyrics convey the suffering of the evolutionary journey.

Stalks of reed and wrinkles of ancient stone, the smell of beast, the track of prey. Nothing else does my bowed gaze see, for my back is curved. If only I could raise my neck above the fronds and hold my body upright against the wind, I try and fall and try again, and stand upright for a moment

With a leap back to the age of the dinosaurs (they too subject to evolutionary laws), we reach "La danza dei grandi rettili", a brief instrumental piece with a jazz-rock feel. The prog outburst of "Cento mani e cento occhi" recalls Gentle Giant both in the choral vocals and the instrumental virtuosity. Evolution continues its course, and the hominids realize that only together can they better defend themselves, hunt and secure more food. But here too Di Giacomo avoids the banality of a concept that might seem obvious, capturing instead – in a stroke of genius – one of the philosophical dilemmas that has always shaped human life. While cooperation is necessary ("la nostra forza è in cento mani e cento occhi fanno a noi la guardia"), it also represents a limit on individual freedom; even though living in a society is necessary, there remains a part of us that dreams of escaping, even knowing how inconvenient that would be ("ma la voglia di fuggire che mi porto dentro non mi salverà").

The saddest and most moving track, as well as one of the masterpieces of all Italian progressive rock, is "750.000 anni fa, l'amore?", featuring a towering piano performance by Gianni Nocenzi worthy of a classical sonata. Evolution continues until it creates the first feelings, among which the most complex is love. We picture a hominid still ape-like, having its first loving thoughts toward a woman (probably at an evolutionary stage above his own), thoughts he cannot express since he still lacks articulate language ("la mente vuole, ma il labbro inerte non sa dire niente"). The complexity of the composition and the poetry of Di Giacomo's lyrics keep the song far removed from the common idea of a love song.

"Miserere alla storia" carries evolution forward, with man now at his most evolved state daring to challenge God, in the manner of the inhabitants of Babel. But his constructions, however sturdy and majestic, can only succumb to the vastness of time. Time passes relentlessly, "la ruota va" without ever missing a beat, and in "Ed ora io domando tempo al tempo ed egli mi risponde… non ne ho!", a sort of folk ballad depicting the end, creaks and grotesque circus-like rhythms alternate. It's another moment of poetry and philosophy: the time granted to us is limited, and once the end arrives, it will be useless to ask for more. In a sense, it's the summa of evolution—the refusal to die so as not to lose one's own genes and memory.

Just as the computer HAL 9000 in "2001: A Space Odyssey" rebels and vainly tries to kill its creator (man) who wants to shut it down, in the same way, in this Asimov-like metaphor, man at the peak of his evolution asks not to die. He doesn't ask a creator God, but the very laws that created and refined him, the laws of evolution. Naturally, his request cannot be granted. The long evolutionary journey is destined to end in only one way: extinction.

This is the story of "Darwin!" (December 1972), Banco's second album, released just seven months after their masterful debut "Banco del Mutuo Soccorso" (May '72).

It's incredible to think that, just twelve months later — in an explosion of overflowing creativity — they would release their third masterpiece in barely a year and a half, the astonishing "Io sono nato libero" (December '73), devoted to themes more closely tied to politics and freedom.

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13/01/2019