Gang

When these words fall one by one beneath the heels of a dance,

When these teeth have bitten the nomad lips of time,

When these hands will have opened the wind,

When I will have laid my ear to the ground to hear your heart deep down, to hear it race and sing,

When I will have flown barefoot with black crows over your fields of gold and over the sleep of monkeys,

When in a silken dawn I will have freed hatred from your bedsheets

and set fire to the gates of your safe Western homes

When...

When I will have spoken to the centuries of our defeats

And of the poets and warriors and prophets, shut away cold, mute and weary,

When I will have traded the sacred smell of moldy bread for a new suit of armor

When miracles roll amid a crowd of drums,

When ports and oases, bridges and roads, will be nothing but seasons in the palm of my hand,

Then I will be by your side again and I will return to defend you, be it May or October.

Then, and only then, will I come home.

It must have been jarring back in 1991, for anyone who had known the Marche-born Gang as Italian disciples of the Clash, to put on their fourth album "Le radici e le ali" and find themselves wrapped in the acoustic, echoing chords of "Esilio," an opener that replaced the roar of electric guitars with a modal folk carpet of sound. Over this, actor Ireneo Petruzzi, in a measured, almost liturgical spoken-word delivery, evoked a return to one's own land, marking an irreversible shift for the band: the move from an urban punk sound to a song of roots.

The group from the province of Ancona had decided to abandon English in favour of Italian, and simultaneously to explore sounds that had long remained on the margins of Italian rock: words as a matter of struggle, folk chords as tools of protest. They couldn't have known it, but with "Le radici e le ali" Gang were laying the foundations of that politically engaged, "movement" strand which in the following years would give rise to Modena City Ramblers, Yo Yo Mundi, Mercanti di Liquore and, in a more eclectic vein, Bandabardò and Davide Van De Sfroos. The album thus stood not only as an artistic turning point, but as a model of militant folk-rock, in whose notes and words the marching crowds of a generation would find their reflection – and, at least in part, those of the generations that followed too.

Tradition and activism

Picking up the legacy of the Canzonieri and the ferment of '68, Gang carried forward the continuity between popular roots and civic, revolutionary drives. The artistic direction of Gianni Sassi, the guiding spirit of Cramps in the Seventies, acted as a link with the path that, starting from the singer-songwriter vision of Cantacronache, flowed in the Seventies into the protest folk of the early Stormy Six, Yu Kung and Musicanova.

In those early Nineties, a time of transformation on the heels of the fall of the Berlin Wall, universities and social centres were demanding a musical identity that reflected calls for justice and solidarity able to look beyond the national and European horizon. "Le radici e le ali" offered a sonic response, weaving stories of outcasts and lopsided heroes into a narrative of strong emotional impact. Music as a tool for participation and change, but also for discovering who is right next to us and yet unseen, or what seems distant and in reality concerns us closely.

It was the historian and music critic Alessandro Portelli, a collaborator with the label I dischi del sole, who pushed the band towards Italian. Brothers Sandro and Marino Severini, founders and principal songwriters of the band, recognised in Portelli an intellectual compass for combining folk and activism.

It was him, and above all his authority, the great esteem I had for him, that made me think the moment had come to 'turn' homeward, and Portelli's first move to make that happen was to introduce us to Ambrogio Sparagna. Especially because we're from the Marche and the organetto has always been the characteristic instrument of our musical traditions, even more so than the accordion. Sparagna took up the challenge, came to our home, and little by little we began to blend our new songs with his phrasing, his tone, his style. And on 'Reds' we recorded one of his pieces, 'Emigration Song'

(Marino Severini interviewed by Marcello Matranga on Mescalina)

The choice of mother tongue gave the lyrics an unprecedented resonance, as Alberto Campo noted in his review of the record for Rockerilla: "Rebel music that gets into your bones and vibrates under your skin [...] the fact of 'singing it the Italian way' amplifies it exponentially". And so did Max Stefani in Il Mucchio Selvaggio: "It's a record for those who still won't give up, for those who still have the guts to get angry and to fight [...] Not buying this record means having given up on your own spirit". Testimonies that show how, even at the time, Gang's choice marked not just a stylistic operation, but a disruptive act of political participation.

Global fragments of resistance

But the gaze of "Le radici e le ali" doesn't stop at Italy. Just as the album sinks its roots into history, so it spreads its wings towards multiple elsewheres, made of cultures and battles that resonate in a choral perspective. "Bandito senza tempo" opens with a polyphonic chant by the Yanomami of the Amazon, immediately launched over airy chords and a dreamy yet energetic flute theme. The protagonist is a "timeless outlaw" who fuses within himself echoes of nineteenth-century outlaws, migrants, activists, members of the Red Brigades and even rock stars ("with a Magnum Les Paul he fires off songs that hurt"). The track closes with a Celtic-tinged flute-and-violin coda over the line "Ma un tempo fu un bandito, bandito senza tempo; veniva con la pioggia e se ne andava via col vento" ["But once he was an outlaw, a timeless outlaw; he came with the rain and left with the wind"], anticipating, in both sound and imagery, that militant folk which would become the hallmark of Modena City Ramblers and part of the movement-folk scene.

Shortly after, "Johnny lo zingaro" incorporates a traditional Roma song, entrusting Massimo Bubola with an intense telling of the story of the Bergamo-born criminal Giuseppe Mastini. In "La lotta continua" the voices of Che Guevara, Arafat and Mandela emerge, alongside anarchist songs from the Spanish Civil War. Fragments of found sounds that form a chorus of international voices, in which local struggles – from social banditry to workers' protests – intertwine with the great worldwide liberation movements. Thus, in every archival snippet and every melody, Gang celebrate those figures "on the wrong side of history" whom Wu Ming would later place at the centre of their narratives: antiheroes often in the wrong, losers from the outset, but fighting against an order that excludes them and capable – through their story – of representing the voice of those who have no voice.

Anthems of struggle and melodies of hope

The political heart of the album beats in songs that seem to have been written as soundtracks for a demonstration. "Socialdemocrazia" mixes ska-punk breaks and biting guitars to denounce drift and injustice, branding Italy as "Terra di eroi, santi senza peccato, di mafia, P2 e stragi di Stato" ["Land of heroes, sinless saints, of Mafia, P2 and state massacres"] (a line soon after echoed by Modena City Ramblers in their "Quarant'anni").

The title track unfurls flutes and percussion with Andean echoes in the background for the slanted story – co-written with David Riondino – of an "old communist", from the mountains of the Resistance to the era "of compromises and empty squares, new altars, new frontiers". The band would comment: "Roots are our sense of belonging: our ties and our ideology, which however are destined to go nowhere unless we give them a pair of wings that let us go beyond". Here lies the ideal heart of the album: the tension between the strength of one's origins and the desire to push beyond boundaries. It's an invitation not to freeze into memory, but to let its echo fly towards new forms of participation.

"La lotta continua" opens side B with an almost hard-edged folk-punk, buoyed by a solo that borders on the triumphalism of Big Country's big music. The title recalls Adriano Sofri's extra-parliamentary movement, but the song looks beyond that too: "Da quando gioia e rivoluzione son tornate nei nostri cuori" ["Since joy and revolution returned to our hearts"] is a line that winks at Area, while the opening verse evokes the slogan "Bread and roses" — born from a speech by trade unionist Rose Schneiderman and later a symbol of women's struggles, claiming not just bread to live on but also roses to live with dignity. The track holds all these legacies together and relaunches them with energy: a battle song, but also one of beauty and hope.

But the biggest foray into big music — as well as one of the album's most memorable tracks — comes with "Ombre Rosse", almost a dreamy, melancholic anthem. The musical construction is simple and masterful: chiming acoustic chords, enveloping organ and incisive drums, anthemic guitar lines and a surprisingly funky, flamboyant bass all merge into a powerful, spellbinding ballad. Introduced by an archival recording of Red Brigades ideologue Renato Curcio discussing the planned defeat of the working class, the track sounds like a heartfelt invitation, albeit steeped in disillusionment, not to let the shadow of the past erase the hopes of the future.

⟦Q1⟧

The echo of a commitment

The sonic backdrop of "Le radici e le ali" is a mosaic of collaborations. Mauro Pagani lends his violin lines to "Johnny lo zingaro", and the album's making also involved exceptional musicians such as Antonello Salis (accordion) and Daniele Sepe (sax). The Banda Gaetano Donizetti di Casalecchio di Reno, led by Maestro Ronchetti, lends "Beyond" an atmosphere of civic procession, suspended between ritual and popular fanfare. Every contribution blends harmoniously into the collective design, underscoring the project's inclusive spirit.

"Che dare?" picks up the echo of "Esilio" to close the album with a line that asks for no certainties, but relaunches an appeal:

Scarpe rotte bisogna andare

Neanche la pioggia ci potrà fermare [...]

Quando il sole cambia pelle

Ed il cielo si fa nero

Chiedo al dio di questo inferno

Che dare ancora al cielo

More than thirty years after its release, "Le radici e le ali" has lost none of its connection to the present. Its interweaving of past and possibility, of collective narrative and individual tension, still speaks to anyone questioning the meaning of action and remembrance. That folk backdrop which in 1991 seemed like a farewell to punk turned out instead to be a new beginning: the roots have stayed firm, while the wings have kept searching for new directions. Today as then, the question remains open — "Che dare ancora al cielo?" — and Gang's music, rather than offering answers, invites us never to stop searching for them.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

27/04/2025