Ten Little Italians

› Psycho Kinder: Psycho Kinder  //  from DPI No. 08

An interesting debut for the trio from the Marche region, who at a time when indie music increasingly leans toward glitter and sequins, respond with deep thoughts and poetic quotations (Marco Pagliariccio)

› Edipo: Bacio Battaglia  //  from DPI No. 09

Zanardelli thus proves he possesses an extremely sharp eye as well as his own personal knack for melody, paired with a decidedly surreal (not to say grotesque) flair (Francesco Giordani)

› Paletti: Dominus Ep  //  from DPI No. 11

Each song stands out from the others in terms of brilliance and intensity of sound, melodic openness and emotional intimacy (Stefano Bartolotta)

› Santo Barbaro: Navi  //  from DPI No. 19

The Forlì duo sets up a dimly lit stage on which electronica, new wave, post-rock and pure experimentation serve as the backdrop to stories rich in rarefied or expansive visions, marked by sparingly doled-out sounds, chosen with extreme care, and vocal lines bordering on intimate anguish (Fabio Guastalla)

› Margareth: Flowers Ep  //  from DPI n. 31

[…] the latest, most admirable and at the same time most intimate transfiguration of the song form, with very few equals on the Italian scene (Michele Saran)

› L’Officina Della Camomilla: Squatter Ep  //  from DPI n. 35

Across the five songs there are many different solutions, in terms of rhythmic regularity, sonic cleanliness, degree of complexity, and all of them blend well with the leader's distinctive traits (Stefano Bartolotta)

› Ferbegy: Soul Echoes  //  from DPI n. 39

[…] a concentrate of ethereal poetry that aspires to become a poem on the fleetingness of things (Michele Saran)

› Novanta: Best Selling Dreams  //  from DPI n. 40

Voices lost in the fog of memory […] and muffled phrasing ultimately only heighten the record's great emotional charge, spotlighting an artist worth discovering and following (Vassilios Karagiannis)

› Ofeliadorme: The Tale  //  da DPI n. 41

The suspended atmospheres and Bono's supple voice thus lead into elegant, deconstructed spaces, hazy settings that comfortably accommodate stories which, once again, brush up against literary themes (Fabio Guastalla)

› Babau: Papalagi Ep  //  from DPI n. 45

A genuine rarity in Italian music: never has there been such ethnic and cosmic asceticism, such evocation that escapes mere descriptiveness, and such disenchanted purity (Michele Saran)

› Zidima: Buona Sopravvivenza  //  from DPI n. 48

From the very first listen, the closeness to the sound of Massimo Volume stands out: that shrewd mix of dissonance, post-rock and declaimed verses, capable of making any heart bleed (Claudio Lancia)

› Il Mare Verticale: Uno  //  from DPI n. 49

[…] the overall feeling is that the band has a rare gift for synthesis, essential for their kind of music, making their musical output empathetic and strongly present (Lorenzo Righetto)

› Giorgieness: Non Ballerò (singolo) //  from DPI n. 52

[…] it's about time everyone takes notice of them on a national level, because their talent is beyond question and their impact is the kind that hits you immediately (Stefano Bartolotta)

› La Rappresentante Di Lista: Bu Bu Sad  //  from DPI n. 54

Between instrumental verve, polished ethnic elements and passion, it's a work not unlike the voracious experimental leanings of a mature Battisti (Michele Saran)

› Saint Huck: Broken Branches  //  from DPI n. 55

The substance of these songs is genuinely visionary without being pretentious; not only that, it also keeps a genuine lo-fi and do-it-yourself spontaneity (Michele Saran)

› Motta: La Fine dei Vent’Anni  //  from DPI No. 57

[…] ten unreleased tracks that make up the first building block of a path hinting at great expectations and considerable ambitions (Claudio Lancia)

› Pin Cushion Queen: Settings_3 Ep  //  from DPI n. 70

In the way it muddles the cards and mixes up sound sources, to the point of becoming estranged from them, it comes close to the threshold of the avant-garde (Michele Saran)

› Æmris: Casi  //  from DPI n. 71

In the illustrious wake of Alio Die and Deca, a well-measured series of vibrant, restless creations, like organisms in a mysterious life cycle, shot through with sinister omens (Michele Saran)

› Sarah Stride: Schianto Ep  //  from DPI n. 72

They're only four songs, but if Sarah keeps going in this direction she'll earn no shortage of satisfaction (Claudio Lancia)

› Moondrive: Moondrive  //  from DPI n. 76

[…] a collection of ballads built and played with great skill […], rich in sonic virtuosity combined with cleanliness, power and contagiousness, quick to spark emotionally, often free in form, here and there bold in its language (Michele Saran)

› Dunk: Dunk  //  from DPI n. 78

At times a certain similarity with Verdena's songwriting emerges, but "Dunk", despite a few missteps, stands out as a decidedly personal work (Claudio Lancia)

› Aseptic Void: Ideazione di Contrasto  //  from DPI n. 85

Davide Terreni masterfully journeys through his unconscious and achieves his ultimate goal, delivering to the listener a difficult, destabilizing album that will nonetheless surely satisfy genre fans (Valeria Ferro)

› Roberto Flares: My  //  from DPI n. 91

[…] My isn't just revivalism, it's above all music in which atmospheric vocation clearly prevails over the lyrical one (Michele Saran)

› OoopopoiooO: Elettromagnetismo e Libertà  //  from DPI No. 93

[…] mission accomplished: serious music has never been this fun (Ossydiana Speri)

KETTLE OF KITES – Arrows (autoproduzione, 2019)

folk-rock

Formed between Glasgow and Genoa by folkish singer-songwriter Tom Stearn and rounded out by Marco Giongrandi, Pietro Martinelli and Riccardo Chiaberta, Kettle Of Kites debuted with "Loan" (2015) before arriving at the dense, busy, almost neurotic orchestrations of "Arrows". Proof of this lies in the luminescent sung piece with "fractal" arpeggios of "Supernova" and the expansive sung piece with gusty whistling tones and the metaphysical touches of late Talk Talk found in "Caves". Other subliminal analogies lie in the openings: the almost stochastic electronic pulses of "Lights Go Out" (with its explosive finale), the clipped tones like an industrial alarm of "Oliver" (the most composite track, almost musical-like); their most down-to-earth version is "Orchid", a sprightly flamenco with guitar progressions and a new close reminiscent of TNT. Stearn, voice, guitar and backbone of the combo, then reaffirms his folksinger-cherub soul in a philological-ancestral gem on dobro such as "In The Dome" and in an immaculate melody carried to its apotheosis such as "Giants". A concept inspired by Isaac Asimov's "psychohistory", the concise record hinges on unpredictable variation, rapid modulation, and a certain fickleness that sometimes leads tracks to close rather hastily, yet it's performed, paradoxically, with the utmost confidence, an enviably steady hand. Sparkling production, colorful sound. Noteworthy, in its sheer presence, is Stearn's singing voice, a hot fusion of Rufus Wainwright, Robin Pecknold and Paul Simon. Nine shots by Carlotta Cardana in the booklet. Recorded in Melbourne (A Pocket Full Of Stones) (Michele Saran, 7/10)

FREEDOM CLUB – Freiheit (LFA 27 Zeitgeber, 2019)

synthpunk, no wave, noise

Overturning the clichés about the self-proclaimed paradises of the middle class is something a punk soul attempts like few other things: from the Hermosa Beach shores vandalized by Black Flag to the haughty Orange County turned upside down by Social Distortion, revealing the rot swept under the blood-crusted carpet has always been a delicious thrill for hooligans. Both Freedom Club and their label LFA 27 Zeitgeber come from the sunny resort town of Riccione, which in their vision instead turns out to be an unprecedented den of malaise and perdition, updating the anti-rhetoric of the "unhappy island" that recalls Ferretti's own legacy. The "freedom" claimed by the band's name and the title of their debut is likewise of punkish stock: the freedom to rave in a context that demands composure and respect. "I'm Stupid", the eponymous opening track accordingly and proudly declares, musically taking its cue from Tuxedomoon's "No Tears" but philosophically starting from "Cretin Hop" and arriving at "Mongoloid" (preferring, however, the sinister naivety of the Ramones to the apocalyptic inanity of Devo). The skeletal duo lineup (Vittorio Batarra on guitar and Francesco Gualtieri on synth and drum machine) might bring Suicide to mind, but the real landing ground lies somewhere between Screamers and DNA. For his part, Batarra's anguished voice (a cross between Adrian Borland and Jamie Stewart) has no qualms about defacing whatever can be defaced, in a rudimentary psychodrama that in tracks like "OAAAAAAA" reaches peaks of aberrant schizophrenia. Closing things out in ugliness, as planned, is a devastating "Romagna Tua", something of their own "Oh! Battagliero", deformed with the same Residents-like grace with which the Hi-Fi Bros savaged "Strangers In The Night". Postcards from the Riviera had never been sent back to their sender with such intransigence. In all likelihood, the most unpleasant album of the year (Ossydiana Speri, 7/10)

FIORI – L'Eleganza (Scatti Vorticosi Records, 2019)

alt-rock, hardcore punk

“Il talento nel suonare/ non è affatto necessario/ far suonare chi ha talento/ è piuttosto necessario”. This line alone would be enough to sum up the direct, street-level attitude of this project made up of three Turin musicians (Sandro Serra, Luca Pisu, Giuseppe Azzariti), all already unquestionably established in their respective bands of origin (Fratelli di Soledad, Titor). As it happens, Fiori really do have genuine talent as musicians, and they make it evident without too many frills, circumlocutions, or any need to show off. Eleven tracks of solid alt-rock with a hardcore punk flavor, drawing on the lessons of both Fugazi and Husker Du, arriving at a result that makes no claim to innovation but is decidedly effective in terms of impact and sincerity. Here and there, guitar touches reminiscent of Foo Fighters surface ("Come Dio", "Cane Mangia Cane") along with the odd stoner variation (the intro of "Cose piccolissime"), but it's with "Animali Da Riciclo" that the band seems to gather its strength best, thanks to the sturdiness of the rhythmic structure and an ending that flows quite naturally into despair. The album closes with two successful covers ("Sotto controllo", "Intorno") of So:Ho, the Turin band in which Serra himself played (also as a songwriter) in the early 2000s (Paolo Ciro, 7/10)

HUMAN COLONIES – Cloudchaser And Old Songs (2019, MiaCameretta, Lady Sometimes)

shoegaze, psych-rock

The partnership between MiaCameretta and Lady Sometimes Records is renewed to support the new EP by Human Colonies, who here confirm themselves as few others are able to be at treading the same nu-gaze paths well represented internationally by bands such as Nothing and DIIV. At times they come closer to Dinosaur Jr. than to My Bloody Valentine ("Body", "S. J."), but it's still Kevin Shields' band that remains the guiding light for the trio's songwriting. Four tracks arriving just a year after "Midnight Screamer", underlining the band's current moment of great vitality. "Cloudchaser" is the centerpiece, as well as the only new track. The other three, as suggested by the EP's title, are updated reworkings of tracks that already appeared on the group's early demos, thus given a second chance. A little record that confirms just how little young Italian shoegaze acts have to envy in the more high-profile names from abroad. Music to stare at your shoes to, but also to look someone straight in the eye with, without fear (Claudio Lancia, 7/10)

DUE – Due (self-released, 2019)

electro-pop

A simple name for a concept that is as immediate on paper (singer-songwriter fare + electronics) as it is tricky to pull off coherently in style. Stefano Giovannardi is no stranger to this kind of undertaking, having already upended Cesare Malfatti's "Canzoni Perse" with his synths, but this time he enlists his longtime friend Luca Lezziero (also a past collaborator of Malfatti) to broaden the scope of the experiment. Where "Canzoni Perse" used technology each time (and after the fact) to craft the most fitting clothing for an acoustically shaped sonic body, "due" takes up the challenge in the opposite direction too, letting Lezziero's voice slip into the folds of this complex world of oscillators on fully four of the eight tracks. The overall picture shows a balance achieved with delicacy and skill, starting with the single "Argilla" or the following "Impronte", tuned to personal coordinates that reveal a Lezziero sometimes bold and sometimes tested by such synthetic austerity redolent of John Foxx and Gary Numan. Other tracks travel roads closer to Battiato ("Per dirsi l'amore") or to the later-period Battisti ("Tutto questo (senza di te)"), never losing sight of an authorial path that clearly has interesting room to grow (Paolo Ciro, 7/10)

LEANDRO – Fossimo già grandi (Bunya, 2019)

songwriter

Leandro's debut, "Fossimo già grandi", plays out like a collection of essays in recombinant production. The one guest spot, Eugenio In Via Di Gioia, who should have brought fullness of sound and disruptive force, instead produces the only flat episode on this short album: the soul-pop of "Emancipazione". Starting with "Saprai farti valere", a brisk acoustic ballad overlaid with a solemn post-shoegaze haze and then spurred on by Bolivian tremors, the songs seem to gradually gain vigor and refinement. "Tuo fratello", a simmering lunar jig, boasts layered arrangements, amid stroboscopic vocals, keyboard breezes and, underneath, a music box that's buried yet still gleaming. The Beck-esque cubist deconstruction of "Per mano", the album's aesthetic high point, manages the feat of preserving drive and aggression. Where the mood instead settles into twilight melancholy, conviction also falters: the choral, marching "Una casa sopra un albero" sounds more conventional. Syncopated drum'n'bass made erudite by a post-classical, Radiohead-esque piano, "Il mondo alla rovescia" too, despite good intentions, appears weakened by an indolence typical of Italian easy-listening pop. The same goes for the second half of "E' meglio", wordy and languid, whereas the first half, amid vocal drones, sparse drums and pseudo-minimalist keyboard figures, serves as an introduction to the apathetic lied that closes the record, "Solo me stesso", wholly given over to turning a nostalgic reflection into an otherworldly elegy. From a young singer-songwriter from the Turin area (born in '94; a first warm-up single, "Tempo da omicidi", in 2018), a brief little work made by four hands: him, plus three producers (Fabio Rizzo, Francesco Vitaliti and Paolo Bertazzoli) who know what they're doing. They not only interpret, with mixed results, the confrontational mood (with oneself, one's own conscience, the other) that runs through the author's lyrics, but also give it a magical vibration of rhythmic impulses. One of the best offspring of Iosonouncane's "Die" (Michele Saran, 6.5/10)

FRANCESCO INCANDELA – Flow vol. 1 (Tip Off, 2019)

prog-rock

A native of Palermo, violinist Francesco Incandela earns his diploma and degree on his instrument of choice between 2006 and 2009, and immediately throws himself into numerous projects, from the more off-the-cuff to the more stable, such as the Cordepazze collective and the Sharper String Quartet ensemble, both of his own devising. Angelo Di Mino, with whom he founded Hysterical Sublime, enriching the soundscapes of their first "Colour EP" (2014), and Simona Norato, for whom he contributed to her "Orde di brave figlie" (2018), return the favor when Incandela finally turns to his own solo discography with the extended compositions of "Flow vol. 1": the former produces, the latter inlays a few tracks with her own vocal-instrumental talent. The 7 minutes of "Camel Loop" are steeped in Saracen folk, essentially a loop of plucked strings imitating oud, lyre and mandola, then a hint of (weak) melody, then arriving at a flourish of string counterpoints, a blooming harmonic garden. "Gadir" sounds entirely similar: it first builds the riff in successive blocks as in certain pieces by Steve Reich, then again opens an earthier folk-blues parenthesis and again a contrapuntal oasis, which this time also yields a distorted acid-rock riff. This cell gives a psychedelic streak to the shorter "Oversound", crowned by a clamorous little concerto, alien breathing and subliminal background vocalizing, courtesy of Norato. Norato again, but this time on electronics, carves out the beautiful, painterly, William Turner-esque ambience that opens the 9 minutes of "Drumatic", before everything once more launches into the usual routine of looped plucking (aside from a decent little concerto for doubled violin). "Dream 70" opens with fresh impressionistic drones, but the bulk of the track is carried by a blazing post-rock crescendo of multiplied violin, as well-ornamented and rhetorical as a Hollywood happy ending. The album's best side lies in its hidden sway between repetition and concatenation; through sheer use of loop station and plucking, the author finds an idea and picks it back up in the following track, and so on. Though lacking true vision, the process, his "Flow", benefits from the learned stature of art music. A few issues: slight disorganization, timidity in improvisation, a rhythm section that's a bit inessential. Technique and fluid mastery make up for it. In the furrow traced by Cabeki. Cover art: a shot from the "The Ebb Tide" series by fellow Palermo native Pietro Motisi (Michele Saran, 6/10)

ANDREA ROMANO IL FRATELLO – La famiglia non esiste (I Dischi Del Minollo, 2019)

songwriter

Formerly a member of Albanopower and Matildamay, a collaborator of Mauro Giovanardi, Colapesce and Carlo Barbagallo, and a soundtrack composer, Syracuse-born Andrea Romano makes his solo debut as leader, mastermind and author of a sort of supergroup, Il Fratello (Cesare Basile, Toti Valente, Giovanardi himself and others) for a self-titled "Il Fratello" (2013), a blurry but lightly arranged confessional diary ("Per chi ne avrà", "E' vero che per te", "Tra i lacrimogeni"). The follow-up "La famiglia non esiste" makes that moniker take something of a leap forward, as Romano now tightens it more around his own needs, first and foremost within a backing outfit in which Barbagallo himself stands out. This duo in disguise thus produces, all the more so, homely songs, comfortable and confident in their Baustelle-isms: "Sexy Siracusa", "Estate di ghiaccio", "In pieno caos", "La stazione dell'amore", etc. Still sentimental, the slow "In quel parco di stelle", in its overblown psychedelic streak, points however toward another path (the exception, not the album's rule): when Romano raises the stakes of his lyrics, Barbagallo too raises the stakes of arrangement sophistication. "Nel bere e nel mare", in particular, drags itself through an agitated noir-jazz-thriller gait before culminating in a crossed jam of two saxophones. Again with jazz, horns and syncopated rhythm, another sceneggiata-style song, "La giovane coppia", experiments further, but this time the results are far more crowd-pleasing. Recorded in 2016 and then delayed, this is an album more of embellishments than of songs: the former are felt all too much, the latter often languish in indecision. Romano's singing, mild and breathy in the tradition of Mario Barbaja and Cesare Malfatti, doesn't always rise to match the music's swagger. This near-concept album about relationships in ten variations nonetheless has the merit — a whole greater than the sum of its parts — of rendering a bittersweet neurosis that is subtly eclectic and of uncommon smoothness. Cameo from Marcin Oz, bassist of the Whitest Boy Alive (he's the voice on the phone at the close) (Michele Saran, 6/10)

DHEITI – Rebirth Ep (self-released, 2019)

songwriter

Stage name of singer and songwriter Gemma Conforti, born in Calabria and adopted by Turin, Dheiti debuts with a four-track EP, "Rebirth". Each song lays out a credible hypothesis for a career yet to come. "Loser" alone combines the sophisticated r'n'b chanteuse à la Sade (verse) with the expansive shouter à la Meredith Brooks (chorus). Crowned by a David Gilmour-esque solo and a tango-like tapping piano, "Feel" wouldn't look out of place on one of Kate Bush's later albums. Through a cover, Jill Scott's "A Long Walk", Conforti allows herself another swerve: the funk of Red Hot Chili Peppers (albeit in a syrupy cocktail-lounge version), while she turns into more of a vamp than ever. "Bud In Bloom" finally gives rise to a desperate ballad in the style of Sheryl Crow, introduced by hazy theremin-like electronics and closed out by a convoluted electronic passage that, before fading into nothing, seems to rise to the level of the opening of an avant-garde poem. Written by Conforti, arranged by her friend Sergio Bertolino (keyboards, formerly the leader of Enjoy The Void), rounded out by Domenico Anastasio (guitars) and a rhythm section, Tony Guerrieri (bass) and Francesco Magaldi (drums), recruited at the BAM! in Sapri. A still naively tinged effort, but flowing, engaging, performed and produced with sturdy passion and a few hidden splashes of originality. Digital release on a USB stick shaped like a 33 rpm record (Michele Saran, 6/10)

CIULLA – Canzoni dal quarto piano (Black Candy, 2019)

pop

Having left behind his stint in Violacida (two albums, 2013 and 2016), Antonio Ciulla makes his solo debut under his own surname with a slim collection of intimate songs, "Canzoni dal quarto piano". Fabio Grande (I Quartieri), handling arrangements and production, shapes the tracks around electronics: the electronic soul-pop of "Stupidi argomenti" and an "Il mio covo" poised somewhere between electropop Battisti and Ryan Paris's "Dolce Vita", or building dub frameworks in "Ventisette anni", or again, almost schizophrenically, through keyboard-laden litanies in "Da quando hai perso la testa", right through to a britpop-indebted whine close to Lunapop on "Fanali". Not even "Temporali", which quotes the Beatles' "Strawberry" [Fields], is fully convincing; only on "Calafuria '90" does the spirit of a genuine singer-songwriter emerge (De Gregori-esque, for the occasion), fully rounded out by a hymn-like melody. A debut co-produced with the reliable Costello's. There's an atmosphere here, but the delivery is often shaky. What's missing are the songs: a small clutch of evanescent melodies, pleasant paper boats carried off by the current, ultimately wrecked on the shoals of it-pop. Ciulla (from Lucca, of Sicilian descent, born in '91) has instinct, and a self-analysis whose only flaw is a tendency toward poeticism. Mastering by the seasoned Giovanni Versari (Michele Saran, 5/10)

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10/02/2025