Artists' rankings

There are more than 10, but I don't think space is an issue on a website. If anything, it's a matter of common-sense restraint: so I'll try to write only a little about each of them, well aware that I won't manage it.

The order is strictly random.

Since I'll be extending this playlist to our social channels, for those who follow us there, take it as a possible recommendation too: I very much doubt that among OndaRock's readers, expert and highly attentive as they are, there's anyone who might need it. And I say that quite seriously.

My thanks to the staff for their hospitality.

Cristiano.

Young Fathers: Cocoa Sugar 

An irresistibly cool record. I've noticed people often draw comparisons with Massive Attack and Tv On The Radio for them: I think that's fair, especially in terms of giving you a sense of what we're talking about. You could also throw in the name of Tricky, if you like. And you could say it's a balanced mix of rap (in the Massive vein, if that makes sense) and indie/alternative. Certain rhythmic textures are simply lovely, and dub occasionally peeks through. Thoroughly enjoyable, stimulating and cool, precisely as advertised.

Kacey Musgraves: Golden Hour 

She's an American singer-songwriter. The genre, at its core, is country, though not philologically reproduced: here the production is more mainstream and more pop, and some songs have a stunning melody. Anyone not attuned to this world certainly won't be won over by listening to her, in any case. She said she was heavily influenced by Sade for this record. What I hear is the Bangles: and I hear them as a former fan of the Paisley Underground, not because I imagine they're an inspiration to her, and even though they were the sweetest part of that movement... well, I have absolutely nothing against sugary atmospheres. I loved the Three O'Clock too, for that matter...

Marianne Faithfull: Negative Capability

It's the profound intensity that makes this record so precious. I've read that it's the equivalent of Cohen's last one, who died shortly after. It would be easy, and ironic, to distance oneself from that comparison for superstitious reasons, but the tone is aching (not nostalgic), and it really does sound like someone taking stock with little time left. As has often been the case lately in her records, there are quite a few names involved: from Nick Cave (a magnificent duet) to Mark Lanegan, from Ed Harcourt to Warren Ellis (who I believe produces alongside his trusty partner Rob Ellis, a great friend of ours).

Ry Cooder: The Prodigal Son

Ry Cooder is a towering guitarist. He's the man behind one of the most moving soundtracks I've ever heard: "Paris, Texas" by Wim Wenders, built almost entirely around the sound of slide on acoustic guitar. Here he revisits blues and gospel tunes that are little known or entirely obscure. Up to the halfway point it's joyful, playful midtempo rock, then comes a run of slow, warm ballads that melt you completely. I've read that the record is played entirely by him and his son: how lovely!

Laish: Time Elastic

I discovered this band thanks to OndaRock and its reviewer, Gianfranco Marmoro. If I search online for information on them, googling turns up almost nothing, and I obviously think that's a shame. It's an extremely delicate pop, free of any tricks aimed at grabbing distracted listeners: everything flows with lightness, instilling calm and relaxation. Nothing here feels flashy, but it's precisely that delightful composure, with a vague undercurrent of melancholy, that captivates. Personally, they remind me a lot of the Go-Betweens, the Australian band from the '80s that I followed fairly closely back then.

Kamasi Washington: Heaven And Hearth

I haven't kept up with jazz this year, alas. There have been years when I discovered wonderful things (Vijay Iyer, Josh Berman, Mary Halvorson, Rudresh Mahanthappa, Ivo Perelman, Colin Stetson, Tim Berne, Matthew Shipp, Eric Revis and many others, including quite a few Italians), and I've always missed out on Kamasi Washington. Not that I never listened to him, but I was superficial about it. I know his latest record split a lot of opinion, with some perhaps no longer hearing the kind of strangeness that used to seem cool. To me, it's magnificent. Pure joy for the attentive ear. Impressive musicians orchestrated in a way that's simply unmatched. There's no posturing on this record: just an uncontainable love of music.

Noname: Room 25

I knew nothing about her. A few days ago I posted one of her tracks on our Facebook page, since for a few years now we've had a song of the day to keep company with whoever drops by. It got perhaps the lowest number of likes since our little "feature" has existed: 7. And yet the record is a real little gem, light as a feather. She's a rapper/poet with a remarkable flow, continuous, flowing like a river, with almost imperceptible inflections, sometimes carefree, almost woozy, and her musicians are excellent. It's Metacritic's album of the year, the site that gathers opinions from all (or many) of the world's online outlets, turning them into a running statistic, day by day, month after month, right up to the various year-end lists. I don't think it will stick in the history books of music, but enjoying it in the background, a little carelessly, maybe while flipping through something to read, is a real tonic.

Giorgio Canali: Undici canzoni di merda con la pioggia dentro

The rawness of this work by Giorgio is touching. Any record of his is raw and genuine, because Giorgio is raw and genuine, but here he's at his peak. I mean "genuine" in the sense of full, intense. The songs are all pretty much on point, the sound is full-bodied, the lyrics are brilliant, sharp, deliciously cynical at times, as always. I don't know if he'd take it as a compliment, but this record could well appeal to many fans of Ligabue, because it oozes that kind of rock-and-roll Italian-ness — obviously not the kind filtered through productions cynically geared toward mass success. Which, at least in part, it would deserve.

Anna Calvi: Hunter

What stands out above all is her explicit coming out, which leads to a clear stance in which gender (male and female) barely has reason to exist anymore. It's therefore a strongly conceptual record, and in the interviews I've happened to read, the impressions left by the suggestive lyrics are fully confirmed. But beyond that, what matters is that there are some magnificent songs, which lately she seems to have brought to the stage by shedding her skin: no longer a woman with sinuous, vaguely sensual features, but a stage animal who rolls around on the floor with her guitar, often approaching the audience with feral aggression. Class (to spare) and power (to spare).

Pusha T: Daytona

This is rap, rap through and through, made by a Black artist, heir to the whole American rap tradition. I really like rap, and even if I don't feast on that world's output on a regular basis, when I stumble across something I like, I savor it fully.

Unlike so many records these days, this is one that doesn't demand any special patience to get through to the end: here there are "only" 9 tracks, but with some albums you already start feeling a vague sense of impatience by the fifth. That doesn't happen here.

Beach House: 7

I really like them, and this is one of their best records. They've always maintained a particularly captivating mood, poised between rarefaction, languor, psychedelia, darkness, intimacy, ethereal delicacy and introspection, and the quality of the songwriting is generally top-notch. They know how to build songs that carve themselves into the listener's memory, and they arrange them with an extremely personal style. In some ways you could consider them the Cocteau Twins of our time: the dreamy atmosphere, certain vocal melodies and the harmonies that reinforce them, some of the guitar sounds, all sit in that glorious territory. And that's saying quite a lot.

Low: Double Negative

I started listening to Low with their fantastic "Things We Lost In The Fire", and from there it was love (I might have come across them before, since I don't think my curiosity would have let them slip by, but I wasn't very drawn to slowcore as an attitude, and it's possible I had some prejudice against it). Generally their records maintain a high standard. Here they wanted to push into extreme territory, and on first listen you might even cry miracle. Then you perhaps realise that it's rare to actually feel like "putting it on", but every time you do, you set out on a journey of rare appeal. Live they're magnificent, and I hope to manage to see them after this beautiful record, to hear how they play it live.

Alice in Chains: Rainer Fog

A record that's been particularly snubbed by pretty much everyone. I can understand the reasons, but they don't seem valid enough to justify a negative judgment based on them: namely, that it recalls what they already did back in the days of Layne Staley and so on. Makes you want to say: who cares? The record is played superbly, and if you care about certain sounds I don't see why you'd refuse to hear new songs of that kind. I don't hear mannerism here: I hear the enjoyment of doing well what you know how to do. I've always liked grunge just the right amount, but I was a fan of other stuff. Still, they and Soundgarden (and Nirvana, second to them) really gave me a lot of good vibrations. And with "Rainer Fog" they can renew them, which, deep down, is a healthy thing.

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks: Sparkle Hard

Here we find the sublimation of American indie pop-rock born in the '80s with bands like his own Pavement, who besides being described that way were also labelled "lo-fi".

Lo-fi understood as a somewhat ramshackle attitude is a pleasant memory, but it remains just that: a memory. Here we have musicians with a wonderful feeling who play with a remarkable touch and quality. There's no longer any need to muddy the performance to mask some kind of limitation: even when everything sounds clean, the intensity remains at very high levels, even when the tracks turn cheerful and playful. Lots of great songs and a sparkling, refined atmosphere. With that particular mood typical of the American sound, which has always been my favourite.

Suuns: Felt

They're Canadian and they're odd. The kind of oddness that can't help but appeal to anyone drawn to certain attitudes in rock. For them I think it's fair to invoke the name of Can: the kraut-rock mood seems to me a plausible ingredient. If you want another definition: art-rock might be spot on. In some ways it's a bit of a stretch, but the oddness I'm talking about might have some distant kinship with the oddness of that incredible band This Heat, a group that in the late '70s did things utterly out of this world and terribly evocative, somewhere between near-ethnic post-punk and atmospheres that '90s post-rock would later make its own. There's also a lot of electronics here, but there's a sax too, and there are surreal, alien atmospheres in the almost total absence of actual songs: they're sound collages, somewhat hypnotic in character, and they have their own charm.