MARLENE KUNTZ - Uno

The Music

"It's not exactly what Marlene Kuntz used to be, but Marlene Kuntz will never be exactly what they used to be: they always try to surprise themselves first, because I believe it's an artist's job not to do things they feel they've already done before, though at the same time I'm also well aware that an artist has a certain number of arrows in their quiver and doesn't have every possible arrow at their disposal, because every artist is defined by certain traits, by their own stylistic signature [...] It seems to me that a lot of bands often, in some way, once they've figured out the secret of how things work, more or less keep circling around that to consolidate what they've got. We, in that sense, pay a bit of a price for our refusal to be like that."

It's Cristiano Godano speaking, in the river-of-words interview given to Onda Rock after the release of "Bianco sporco", in June 2005. His is the clearest-headed analysis one can make of Marlene Kuntz's career. Three albums that secured their place in the annals of Italian rock, three albums in which little or nothing changes, before a continuous series of shifts - successful or not - that were always bold and born of a fundamental honesty toward their own personal path.

"Uno" is perhaps the most striking of these, with the band from Cuneo arriving at a distinctly auteurist strain of rock, yet one that's obscure or at any rate elaborate, sonically rich in nuance. It's an album of imbalances, where they take risks on every front, starting with the voice - the evocative half-falsetto of "Canto", a deliberately improper use of the instrument (Godano is a distinctive and even effective singer, though not exactly blessed with a beautiful voice), rendered in a way that's nonetheless acceptable. The opening track itself is one of the boldest experiments, with vaguely jazzy drums, shards of crystal percussion, taut and convoluted guitar work, Marroccolo's endlessly busy bass, answering backing vocals, and an enchanted, almost lyrical hook. The result is pleasing, and it's brought to fruition in the following "Musa", a track that's more pop than rock, a luminous ode built around Paolo Conte's piano.

From "111" onward, doubts start to emerge about the feasibility and success of the project. It's a song of two faces, the first part slow and enveloping guitar work, the second an explosion of violent sound - unconvincing on both fronts. "La ballata dell'ignavo", overinflated by the orchestration, and the saccharine "Canzone sensuale" are the peaks of romantic pathos, but also the worst-executed tracks.

Things improve, considerably, when Marlene Kuntz load up on strangeness, as in the far-west atmosphere built on murky guitar circles in "Fantasmi", with its deliberately graceless backing-vocal howls and the electric charge of the finale. The central stretch of the album, however, pays a further toll in the form of too many minor tracks - not exactly filler in the strict sense, but certainly not inspired either (the dreamlike "Abbracciami"; the slow-motion-and-relaunch games of "Sapore di miele"; the blurry tenderness of "Canzone ecologica"). To find another meaningful spark, you have to land in CSI territory, with the title track, a traditional epic rock song with an effective hook and wall of guitars.

The lyrics

Once again, the best description comes from the band itself: "Uno, an album about love, about enchantment and damnation."

The excellent lyrics of "111" start from the beginning and the natural end of an average couple ("Lei lo amava in qualche modo, lui la amava più che poco e la vita proseguiva così") only to spill over into a story of violence culminating in murder ("ma quale orrore quando mi accorsi di averla punita massacrandola a martellate"). Also strong is "Canto", about the loss of a love ("Canto il nulla che prenderai, dalle folli mie pene, e non mi è di consolazione sapere che son figlie anch'esse di te"), and "La ballata dell'ignavo", about the inability to love ("Ohh, rileggi una volta in più, fino a farti impressionare, in quei fogli lilla ci sei tu, e ti vogliono toccare a fondo, nel cuore di una sensibilità manchevole").

"Fantasmi", on the other hand, is an occasional departure from the theme, a delightful invective against critics ("Stavi pensando è bollito quello lì, me lo ha detto il fantasma che lavora per me"), both haughty and sincere ("Mi piaccio un sacco e se mi stimo anche di più tanto a tirar giù il prezzo poi ci pensi tu").

The rest consists of a few textbook portraits of familiar topoi ("Musa", about the inspiring woman; "Sapore di miele" about carnal intensity), amid a handful of good insights ("Non ho mai cessato di amarti, ma non riesco più a baciarti", from "Uno") and the odd excess ("Canzone sensuale").

Conclusions

An atypical and courageous record, built on a solid underlying idea, with plenty of hard work and good will, "Uno" never quite manages to translate its ambitions into fully realized songs, instead only hinting - in flashes, at the level of atmosphere - at the value it aspired to reach. Which, compliments aside, can't be considered enough.

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18/06/2007