"Paradoxically, what was innovative and original a few decades ago is even more original and innovative today, because we have to remember that most of the music we listen to now is made with virtual instruments, with sampled sounds played through computers. So as Decibel, to stay ahead, we decided to look back." The speaker is Silvio Capeccia – keyboardist of the legendary Milanese band – and anyone among the old glam-waver hearts who doesn't feel a shiver at such a premise should raise their hand. Decibel, the band that – after making noise in the Milan underground in the late '70s – showed up in perfect Viennese look on the Sanremo stage in 1980, making diehard punksters cry betrayal, is back recording an album after thirty-seven years.
A lifetime ago. Those were the days when, at the flower festival, you had to pick your way between Pupo's "Su di noi" and Toto Cutugno's bushy eyebrows – no small feat – yet Decibel charted a path that was scandalous at the time, but later followed by many champions of alternative rock, to the point of becoming almost the norm today. No use denying it: for those who lived through that golden season, a reunion between Enrico Ruggeri and his old comrades Fulvio Muzio and Silvio Capeccia is an event as unexpected as it is loaded with expectations.
And indeed everything seems to go smoothly, with the reconstituted trio serving up a formidable welcome one-two that brings back the old glory days without giving in to nostalgia: the first single "My My Generation" sounds like a genuine statement of intent, caught between Ultravox-like epic grandeur and a roll call of guiding lights, in a kind of conceptual sequel to early Chrisma's "Thank You" (in order: Bowie, Cale, Lou Reed, Talking Heads, Roxy Music, Sparks, Sex Pistols, Stranglers, Clash, Devo, Nico, Mink De Ville, Rolling Stones, New York Dolls, Who, Iggy Pop, Ramones... too bad for the Cars, who missed the cut by a hair), while "Noblesse Oblige", with its bohemian swagger, convincingly asserts the proud, decadent aesthetic of an elite unwilling to compromise.
But speaking of compromises, some doubts creep in with "Gli anni del silenzio", the second single, which musically is one of the best of the lot, with its Smiths-like drive and a lovely Police-style break, but gets cannibalized and somewhat stunned by a typically Ruggeri-esque lyric that falls straight into the category of already-familiar crowd-pleasing moves, good for moving the elderly ladies sitting in the front rows at the live shows. The story repeats itself with "L'ultima donna", which isn't even backed up by convincing songwriting this time. It feels more like a "spot the difference" exercise: a lyrical trope Enrico has already recycled in various forms throughout his solo career (musically it's a bit "Non piango più", but then again – come on – "Non finirà" can't be replicated), but above all with content that has little to do with the aesthetic invoked: more a lighters-up pastiche than the outcome of a background steeped in Ultravox, Talking Heads and company, as stated in the brilliant opening track (P.S. swap in "Crudele poesia", five tracks later, for "L'ultima donna" and you'd get the same verdict).
If we set aside the pointless reprises of "Contessa" and "Vivo da Re" – the latter reworked with nice little "Bitter End"-style Roxy Music backing vocals, but which in substance lands closer to Enrico's own, admittedly glorious, "Ti avrò" (including these two vintage hits is about as understandable as if Ultravox had stuck remakes of "Sleepwalk" and "Vienna" onto "Brilliant" – though maybe the label's marketing department can shed some light on that) – things return to top form with "Fashion", all sharp lyrics and a good dose of the Stranglers' "Northwinds Blowing", but above all with "La bella e la bestia", whose brash freshness takes us straight back to the luxury of "Vivo da re". The same can be said of the delightful Sparks-like vignette "Triste storia di un cantante" and of the Stranglers resurfacing in Capeccia's keyboards on "Il primo livello", energized by a deeply inspired lyric that picks up the discourse on media and political control over the masses right where it was left off in 1978, in "Il lavaggio del cervello", while in the retro swagger of "Il jackpot" Ruggeri paints, in his own inimitable way, some chiaroscuro urban scenes.
The three bonus tracks on the "deluxe edition" form a sort of mini-compendium of the album: "La corte del principe" is remarkable, even though it's built on the notes of Sparks' "This Town Ain't Big Enough..."; the new version of "Pernod" is moving, helped along by the closing cameo from Pino Mancini, the great guitarist from the "Punk" days, dug up from who knows where; but "Leaving My Home" ("Vivo da re" with its original English lyrics) is pretty much skippable, mostly because of Enrico's shaky pronunciation.
"Noblesse Oblige" is an album with plenty of good, at times excellent, moments, but also a few passages that could have used some rethinking. And that's a bit of a shame, since the production is top-notch, so with sharper focus this could have been a full-blown, large-scale comeback in every respect. One can only wish there were more like it, though.
A separate mention goes to the "Superfan Limited Edition" box set, limited to a thousand copies and sold exclusively on Amazon. An ideal collector's item for anyone longing to get their hands on "Punk" on vinyl (the debut album, whose original pressing now fetches anywhere between 350 and 500 euros, and which this hapless writer, for reasons unknown, sold off for next to nothing some thirty years ago), along with the vinyl reissue of the second album and the first 7-inch single "A mano armata/Indigestione disko", as well as "Noblesse Oblige" on both CD and vinyl, plus other tempting extras. The price tag is perhaps a bit steep, but anyone who can afford it shouldn't pass it up for anything in the world.
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20/06/2017
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Marco Bercella, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.