OFFICINA DELLA CAMOMILLA - Senontipiacefalostesso Uno

Let's start with a fact, though some might call it a perverse one: Officina della Camomilla are not at all a small miracle of rock integrity. They're corrupt and corruptible. Or maybe they're simply children of these times. And something tells us they're rather pleased about it. It's no coincidence that their debut album, following a much-trumpeted YouTube success, is called "Senontipiacefalostesso Uno". Indeed, because the two deus ex machina, Francesco De Leo and Claudio Tarantino, already seem to have a second chapter in the drawer, due out by the end of 2013.

As we were saying: corrupt and corruptible. You can tell from the winks to the best-known, most recognizable brand of Anglophone indie-rock (the Libertines before the collapse, Alex Turner and his side projects), as well as to the most talked-about and talkable strand of the Italian scene (the usual suspects, including labelmates Lo Stato Sociale, here in full force for the souped-up "La Tua Ragazza Non Ascolta i Beat Happening") and to the fashion for guest spots (at least a dozen, including the ever-present Nicola Manzan).

Now, to determine whether or not this is symptomatic of the spirit of the times, let's let a bit more time pass; in the meantime, let's hit "play" again.

At just twenty years old, here's their official debut. With the idea of picking up the baton from all the lovers of disposable listening already left orphaned by Cani, Gatti and the rest, courtesy of the aforementioned pseudo-Milanese duo, now joined by Marco Amadio, Anna Viganò and Ilaria Baia Curioni. The album was assembled, recorded and mixed in and around Bologna and, despite being mastered in Bristol, you'd be forgiven for expecting pure routine from these Noughties youngsters. And indeed, that's exactly what you get.

Variously influenced and, at the same time, echoing the classic "mainstrindie" sound currently in vogue, as in the case of "Città Mostro Di Vestiti" (did someone say Dimartino?) and "Dai Graffiti del Mercato Comunale" (did someone say Heike Has The Giggles?). While the chosen title certainly recalls Dario Brunori's tallies more than Led Zeppelin's. But it's the touch that counts. The sound has the faint breath of a serial killer, right from the first opening tracks. Adolescent, alert but also (or above all) wounded. "Un Fiore Per Coltello" and "Morte Per Colazione", in which first Be Forest vibrate to the songwriting of Vasco Brondi, then, in the second track, Baustelle veer towards the lyrical cynicism of Dente. And then there are little gems like "Agata Brioches": a restrained play of pure autumnal English landscape.

Finally, all the problems to untangle. First of all because what's been written so far could, for some, actually describe its strengths. Then because you can't live on references and crib notes alone, no doubt about it. Because certain lyrics still leave plenty of room for improvement, both through deficiency ("Ho Fatto Esplodere il Mio Condominio Di Merda" would only make sense with a dedication to Trucebaldazzi) and through excess ("Senontipiacefalostesso"). Because the new arrangements built around trumpets and cellos have ended up distorting the originality of the stripped-down sound that defined the 2010 EP – much like what happened to Eugene McGuinness (another English artist presumably dear to them) between his first and second album.

But we should also find a point of balance, in the record industry world we live in. After all, if musical gerontocracy has by now thoroughly worn out our patience and we punish every new recruit just the same, at this rate, what will we end up listening to? In conclusion, this is an album that oscillates dangerously between an irredeemable panning and a bare pass mark, hopeful of a future reward. Those who have ears to understand...

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29/01/2013