Banco - Prog in the Piggy Bank

A historic band of Italian progressive rock and the author of some of the most interesting work in our pop music, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso enjoy greater success with audiences and critics abroad than at home. The band's style is defined by Gianni Nocenzi's exquisite classical piano playing (he would inexplicably leave the group after its first few albums), which blends beautifully with the Emerson-esque, jazz-inflected approach of his brother Vittorio (often on electric keyboards) and with the fine tenor voice of Francesco Di Giacomo, author of some of the finest, most socially engaged lyrics in Italian prog. Notoriously, both the lyrics and the amateurish vocal delivery – Stratos and Sorrenti obviously don't fall into this category – are the weak point of Italian prog; in this case, however, they are almost its strength, underlining just how exceptional the Roman group's output really is.

Banco del Mutuo Soccorso (1972)

Also known as the “piggy bank” record because of its distinctively shaped cover complete with a three-dimensional tab (it is, to all intents and purposes, the Italian equivalent of Warhol's “banana”, and for this singular piece of artwork it has remained etched in the imagination of Italian rock), this is their debut album, in which their characteristic style is already fully formed. The record opens with a medieval-style intro retelling the Ariosto episode of “Astolfo sulla luna”, accompanied by a squire who utters the famous words “From Up Here, Sire, You Command the Whole Valley”. Even the opening suite, “R.I.P.”, reveals Di Giacomo's lyrical ambitions (in every sense of the word … its long, anguished sung passages, backed only by piano, truly recall the arias of an opera) as, after a wild rock and roll section with the typical sound of the Seventies recounting the events of a battle from another age seen through the eyes of a soldier who is later stabbed, the song lingers on reflections on the theme of death (“e tu no, non scaglierai mai più/la tua lancia per ferire l’orizzonte/per spingerti al di là/per scoprire ciò che solo Iddio sa”). Another fine, purely instrumental suite is “Metamorfosi”.

The very brief divertissement “Passaggio”, for solo harpsichord by Vittorio Nocenzi, leads into the long suite “Il giardino del mago”, a fantastical tale about a man who flees the world to take refuge in, and is then trapped within, the garden of a hypothetical, immensely powerful wizard – a place where human laws no longer apply. In this realm outside space and time, nature reigns in a hallucinatory yet harmonious state, at peace with itself and with human beings. The protagonist loses himself in this dream and will never return to a reality dominated by social injustice. (“With my hair loose in the wind/I direct time/my time/out there in the spaces where death has no dominion/where love crosses borders/and the servant dances with the king/a crown without vanity/eternal is the road that goes on”). The album closes with the light, playful instrumental piece “Traccia”.

Darwin! (1972)

A concept album on the theme of evolution. The entire history of life on Earth, from the hypothetical day it sprang forth through spontaneous generation (Ah la madre è pronta partorirà/già inarca il grembo/vuole un figlio e lo avrà/figlio di terra e di elettricità.) all the way to the final Armageddon (Ed ora io domando tempo al Tempo ed egli mi risponde… non ne ho!), with fate mocking mankind's futile attempts to escape its destiny (“Gloria a Babele/rida la Sfinge ancora per millenni/si fabbrichi nel cielo fino a Sirio/schiumino i cavalli sulla Via Lattea/ma…/Quanta vita ha ancora il tuo intelletto/se dietro a te scompare la tua razza?”).

Musically varied, with light stylistic echoes of the "Tarkus" suite by Emerson, Lake & Palmer in its lavish use of Hammond, moog and synth engaged in frantic dialogue on the opening tracks, the album unfortunately suffers from a production that doesn't match the quality of the compositions (poor mixing, mediocre recording, and to this day it still hasn't received a remaster). There are moments of intense lyricism in the classic "750 mila anni fa l'amore?", an unusual love song in which the protagonist is a hominid unable to rein in his passions, and in the gorgeous "Cento mani e cento occhi", which with its choirs and polyphonic vocals recalls the best of Gentle Giant, and which centres on the birth of the first human communities.

I Was Born Free (1973)

With this record they return to the sound of their debut album. The long suite "Canto nomade di un prigioniero politico" is their masterpiece, worthy of standing alongside English classics like "Lizard", "Supper's Ready" and "The Plague of Lighthouse Keepers" in any hypothetical hit-parade of symphonic rock's one-side epics. A work of political protest, it tells the story of a condemned man awaiting execution who entrusts his legacy to his song ("Almeno tu che puoi fuggi via canto nomade/questa cella è piena della mia disperazione, tu che puoi non farti prendere"). Di Giacomo's anguished singing finds a worthy accompaniment in Gianni Nocenzi's romantic piano passages, which lead into a long instrumental coda of rhythm guitars and percussion echoing the intro of Alan Sorrenti's "Come un vecchio incensiere all'alba di un villaggio deserto". The cheerful ballad "Non mi rompete" remains their biggest popular hit. There's pure psychedelic delirium in "La tua città sottile", written entirely by Gianni Nocenzi. "Niente è più lo stesso" offers moments of reflection on war and pacifism. The instrumental "Traccia II" provides a whirling epilogue.

Garofano Rosso (1976)

The soundtrack to the eponymous film based on a novel by Elio Vittorini, directed by Luigi Faccini, finds guitarist Maltese unusually performing on trumpet with Davis-esque tones. A tedious record, marred by the repetitive recurrence of the lovely "Tema di Giovanna" in multiple arrangements. It was the first release on Keith Emerson and Greg Lake's Manticore label, which had already signed PFM, another historic act of Italian progressive.

Come in un'ultima cena (1976)

The band moves closer to the song format, giving up long suites without, however, undertaking any major stylistic shift. The standout track on the record is "Il ragno", the piece closest to progressive standards, which would go on to become a live favourite. The political commitment already begun on the previous studio effort continues here. An English-language version also exists.

…di terra (1977)

Another soundtrack, an ambitious orchestral work conducted by Vittorio Nocenzi (who also wrote all the music). It lacks truly memorable moments but is certainly well played, highly cohesive and elegant. Guest Alan King contributes excellent saxophone work. The track titles are lines from a poem by Francesco Di Giacomo.

The album Canto di primavera and the live record Terminus (a telling title) mark the end of Banco's progressive era; ten years of tentative, slapdash pop/new wave experiments would follow, which are best glossed over.

From Up Here, Sire, You Command the Whole Valley (1991)

The poor recording quality of the first two albums (not yet remastered at the time, now available in multiple reissues, among which the latest digipack editions are recommended) prompted Nocenzi & co. to re-record the first two records using every means available at the time and package them together in a box set. Good intentions ran aground on poor stylistic choices (the use of electronic drums is deplorable): we'd recommend this record to fans only. The record label's decision to take the two CDs from the box set and release them separately under titles identical to the original LPs is utterly ridiculous. So we advise anyone interested in getting hold of Darwin and the "piggy bank" album to pay close attention to the many different versions available. On the international market, this shouldn't be an issue, though.

The 13th (1994)

After a few years of silence and the dismal pop turn of the '80s, the band opened the new decade with a hard rock/singer-songwriter album that doesn't quite come off, though it's well played; it's undermined by lyrics unworthy of their author and by explicit vulgarity. Nocenzi spices things up with some interesting synth textures and a handful of instrumental tracks. Best tracks: "Anche Dio", "Emiliano", "Tirami una rete", "Bisbigli".

Naked (1997)

Double album. The first volume contains acoustic, modernized versions of the band's biggest classics, played however with great class, and the result is far more interesting and successful than the mess that was “From Up Here, Sire, You Command the Whole Valley”. Particularly notable are the long version of “750 mila anni fa l'amore”, marked by a lengthy easy-jazz piano intro from Vittorio Nocenzi and a brilliant, anguished vocal performance by Francesco Di Giacomo. “R.I.P.” and “E mi viene da pensare” are the other standout tracks, while on “Il ragno” and “L'evoluzione” the experiment doesn't quite work, since the use of purely acoustic instruments distorts the songs too much. A long three-part suite titled “Naked” rounds off this CD under the banner of modern sonorities (though with the class and experience that define the band), a rejection of typical 70s prog clichés, and a deeply inspired lyric. This is probably the most valid and underrated work of 90s Italian progressive rock, especially when compared with the half-hearted attempts of the so-called “new generation of Italian prog”, in which Genoa's Fabio Zuffanti stands as the only composer worth mentioning.

The second volume of the album instead contains a fine selection of live material from a concert in Japan and other live shows in Italy. “La conquista della posizione eretta” and the medley “Bisbigli/Passaggio/Coi capelli sciolti al vento” show how, even today, this band gives its best on stage (when it doesn't hold back its own creativity with questionable setlists and collaborations with mediocre young artists from the Italian alternative scene — abroad, paradoxically, audiences are more demanding, and things change). Naked is certainly the album to recommend to younger listeners used to a modern sound as an entry point into Banco's music. There is also a “split” version of the album released as two separate CDs, as well as a “shortened” Japanese edition.

Transiberiana (2019)

The loss of the great Francesco Di Giacomo and Rodolfo Maltese — who passed away on 21 February 2014 and 3 October 2015 respectively — seemed to mark the inevitable swan song of the extraordinary career of Rome's Banco. And yet stubbornness, along with a sense of pride in their own history, led Vittorio Nocenzi — despite his well-known health problems — to try again and bring to life the new concept album Transiberiana.

With a renewed line-up featuring the already-present Filippo Marcheggiani (lead guitar) alongside newcomers Tony D'Alessio (vocals), Nicola Di Già (rhythm guitar), Marco Capozi (bass) and Fabio Moresco (drums), Banco attempts a path of change while still keeping clear ties to their own history. The cover art, with the classic piggy bank, confirms this openly, as does the metaphor linking the Trans-Siberian Railway and life itself — a long journey full of obstacles and unforeseen events — which ties back to the history of Banco's concept albums that helped shape the history of Italian popular music. It all holds together thanks to a Nocenzi in great form, both as a writer and as a performer, ranging from classic progressive sonorities to jazzy piano, all the way to minimalist loops reminiscent of the Who's “Baba O'Riley” (“Lo sciamano”), enriched by solo attempts bordering on prog-metal.

The Trans-Siberian Railway, running from Moscow to the far-eastern city of Vladivostok through regions where living conditions border on mere survival, becomes a metaphor for existence seen as a winding path of pleasant events (“Campi di fragole”), looming dangers (“L'assalto dei lupi”, with synth attacks reminiscent of Goblin) or the discovery of horrific secrets that stifle freedom (“I ruderi del gulag”).

There is a philosophy to the journey of Transiberiana, a vision that tries to embrace Di Giacomo's unreachable poetics even though Tony D'Alessio's voice is quite different. There are many enjoyable moments and many clever touches, both on a technical level (as always impeccable) and even a timbral one (the unusual sounds of “La discesa dal treno”, the opening loop of “Stelle sulla terra”), complete with the genre digressions typical of the most sophisticated progressive rock.

There's a lot going on in “Transiberiana”, an album to remember as this decade draws to a close for Italian progressive rock. Perhaps what's missing is that extra something, the dizzying flight of fancy that leaves you breathless, the stroke of genius that makes you realize you're in the presence of something great. We can't know whether this will be Banco's last effort, but what can be said is that this new chapter in their extraordinary career deserves respect and genuine admiration for a master like Nocenzi, who, after almost fifty years, is still able to speak to an audience completely different from the one of his distant beginnings.

Orlando: The Shapes of Love (2022)

With the now-consolidated line-up that had already made a strong impression on Transiberiana, Banco achieves one of the goals that Nocenzi & co. had had in mind for a very long time, probably since their very beginnings: offering their own take on “Orlando Furioso”, the chivalric poem that symbolizes the Italian Renaissance.

What Banco have conceived for the occasion is a complex work, a blend of two art forms (music and poetry) that shows a surprising instrumental resourcefulness, travelling along the lines of the most inventive progressive rock, even if often anchored to the stylistic traits that defined the genre's golden age in the 70s. Excellent in this respect are the two instrumentals “Il paladino” and “La maldicenza”, as well as the fiery romps of “La pianura rossa”.

Further developments surface along the way, at times veering close to pop (“Cosa vuol dire per sempre”), in other cases edging toward jazz (“Non credere alla luna”, thanks to Carlo Micheli's sax) or synthetic textures with light eighties overtones (“Non serve tremare”). Among the most intense moments in the tracklist is the excellent vocal performance delivered by Viola Nocenzi (Vittorio's daughter) on “L'amore accade”.

The great lyrical precision that Logli, Michelangelo and Vittorio Nocenzi poured into exploring Ariosto's famous story comes through in verses where Banco even attempt to draw inspiration directly from the seminal lines written by the poet from Reggio Emilia, and before him by Matteo Maria Boiardo, whose unfinished work “Orlando innamorato” served as an essential source of inspiration.

The intended thematic journey clearly places the focus on love, a feeling that emerges in many of its countless forms.

The story as reworked by Banco is made more compelling by a number of substantial reinterpretations, which alter many of its features without distorting its underlying theme.

Following the up-and-down fortunes of many sacred monsters of Italian progressive rock, who even today keep trying to make their legendary flag fly, with this meticulous project Banco del Mutuo Soccorso offers ample proof of its own distinctive identity and, above all, of the high quality of music that is captivating from every angle.

Storie invisibili (2025)

Pop history is littered with albums that open with their one strong track, promising great things only to disappoint from the second song onward. But how many choose to open with the worst track of all? Not simply a lackluster one, but an embarrassing, unsalvageable episode, an outright disaster? However you look at it, the opening track "Studenti" is indefensible: the lyrics aim for social commentary but fall into the merely descriptive, the vocals are rough and poorly controlled, and the mix fails to showcase the one genuinely interesting element — the synthetic colors of founder Vittorio Nocenzi's keyboards. It's a hard choice to justify, except perhaps for the fact that, by contrast, it makes the following tracks look better. "Il mietitore", the more rock-leaning single, is a modest song by almost every measure, but by comparison it clearly stands out. The few more energetic episodes, including the tired invective of "Non sono pazzo", turn out to be the album's least convincing moments: overwrought delivery, clumsy lyrics, sound that borders on amateurish. Not the best way to close out the trilogy dedicated to human existence, which began in 2019 with Transiberiana and continued in 2022 with Orlando: Le forme dell'amore.

More successful moments arrive instead when the record drops the forced swagger and embraces an art-pop-tinged progressive pop, built around the keyboards of the two Nocenzis (since 2023 Vittorio has been joined by his son Michelangelo). The approach here is more imaginative and inventive, and in its solutions it can recall the electronic creativity of Matia Bazar at their peak. With ups and downs, "Il pittore", "L'ultimo moro dell'Alhambra" and "La casa blu" stand out for their elegance and refinement, with more multifaceted atmospheres and more measured vocal performances from Tony D'Alessio, the band's singer since 2016. The more strictly prog soul emerges instead in the jagged rhythms of "Spiegami il cielo", whose long instrumental section weaves piano and synth together with more intricate dynamics, amid volleys of electronic percussion and forays of fusion-style bass.

Storie invisibili is an uneven album, with evocative moments and inexplicable choices. The progressive pop works well when it isn't weighed down by weak lyrics and vocals that often strain too hard; the rock songwriting, on the other hand, sounds clumsy and uninspired. An unbalanced record, one that could have been convincing had it leaned more consistently on its best qualities.

Contributions by Valerio D'Onofrio (Transiberiana), Cristiano Orlando (Orlando: The Shapes of Love), Marco Sgrignoli ("Storie Invisibili")

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