AMORE - Tarzan contro l’Ibm

After Mariposa (a trailblazer in the entire history of Italian rock), singer, multi-instrumentalist and lyricist Alessandro Fiori now dispenses Love. More than a conventionally understood side band, this is actually an idea. The germinal nucleus obviously starts with the eccentric vocalist, who in 2004 decided to surround himself with distinguished figures from the Italian scene (including musicians from Baustelle and Marco Parente) and to extend the new songs — written at a fair distance from Mariposa, though carrying on their dadaist spirit — from the singer-songwriter's mind into a full band feeling.

After a solid debut EP, "I tendaggi del primo semestre" (self-released, 2005), already an impeccable blend of Canterbury sound, variations on the theme of Italian songwriting, melodic new wave and generous doses of surreal fantasy, Love release their first proper album, on Aiuola Dischi. The highlight of the first EP, "Lapo 68", a distinctive sprint evoking a mournful Wyatt backed by the Contortions, is here remixed and expanded (especially in the use of electronic effects and percussion), gaining a noisy coda enriched with harshly cacophonous guitar in the style of Caspar Brötzmann, and demented sax à la Beefheart.

The new tracks hold their own, even if they sometimes lose fluidity. "Uva passiva", though, is a dazed college-pop number in the style of Camper Van Beethoven, and the following "Pitbull" is another Canterbury-dadaist number with a jagged rhythm section, archaic vocal harmonies à la Csi, and a chaotic finale. "Verifico", built on acoustic guitar and radio frequencies, and "Le dighe dell'Enel", a martial number à la Jannacci with tropical-salsa inserts like a toy Bontempi organ, occupy the album's most revisionist territory. "Porco Diaz" (an idiosyncratic dedication to the events of the Genoa G8 summit, July 2001, ed.) is a piece of cross-dressing, of interlocking, layered arrangements (disjointed electro-pop, chamber music for weddings, parish folk with Donald Duck-style whistling, soft psych, a final free-for-all), while "Susy del Far West" is a seamless schizoid sprint à-la Pixies (or a blissful piss-take on Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti).

The remaining tracks add, one by one, ideas both big and small that throw the starting registers off balance (through exaggeration or contrast). "Lucio ha perso i denti", the closer, disturbs a calm late-period Afterhours style with a host of quirks (beat-style backing vocals, idiotic electro effects, heavily delayed guitar, etc.), "Riga gli sportelli" outlines troubadour-style guitar and a baroque chamber accompaniment before fraying into the tones of an almanac-singer, "Dentro una busta" cites Stars (or fellow travelers Valentina Dorme), but then undoes it all with a wicked tango and a monotonous, sardonic chant. And so on.

Preceded by steady live activity and a newfound sense of pride, this is the most Borgesian project yet from the scribe of the absurd, Mr. Alessandro Fiori. Helped by a seasoned team on production, mixing and backing, it gains substance, catchiness and unpredictable rhythmic snap, but it doesn't avoid the pitfalls of the song form, and it loads the language with extra-linguistic effects that stuff the nonsense with ever more ornamental props. There's a copious array of percussion courtesy of Samuele Bucelli, but the baroque flutes of Federico Maria Sardelli (to whom the whole album is dedicated) are also notable on "Riga gli sportelli" — Sardelli being a highly regarded orchestra conductor, musicologist, cartoonist, and contributor to the legendary satirical magazine "Il vernacoliere".

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27/09/2007