GIORGIO POI - Schegge

“Schegge” takes a further step forward.

This too is a parable of matter that gathers and expands. But while the foam rubber was a spongy substance that welcomed us in a breath of comfort, absorbing only to give back, here we're talking about the body. Human, yes, but also primordial, undefined and archetypal, "the natural condition of everything that exists, fleeing from the centre of the biggest possible explosion: the Big Bang." Traces of that Big Bang can also be found in a love that ends. A love that ends is movement.

"Schegge" tells of the self, of the energy with which it gives itself back to becoming, to time, to life, generating energy, standing against darkness and stasis. "Personally, I feel relief in sensing myself as part of this immense release of force," says the author, "I like feeling exploded, unleashed, shot off together with everything and everyone, a splinter among countless other splinters. In recent years, while everything, as always, was exploding, many things happened in my life, good and bad. But then again, that's how explosions are, chaotic and disorderly."

So these "Schegge", eight splendid songs plus the instrumental that frames them with meaning, end up being the result of an experience so intimate and profound that it concerns us all. It's an idea that runs through the whole album: the self that fragments doesn't get lost, but changes shape. If "Foam Rubber" tried to contain the disorder, "Schegge" does the opposite: it lets everything come out, unfiltered. Its poetry is one of transformation. "Giochi di gambe", written last, is instead placed at the opening: broken rhythm, lyrics that jump between thoughts, a lightness that's only apparent. In "Nelle tue piscine" the safe zone is the swimming pool, the risk is the open sea: the song alternates between balance and uncertainty, just like certain relationships that are kept going out of habit. Here the sound sways on a liquid arpeggio while the voice confesses: "Non ci nuoto più nelle tue piscine/ piuttosto preferisco cercare tra le onde un salvagente nel mare". And right after it ties the existential paradox in a knot: "Si può morire senza morire e vivere senza vivere".

"Uomini contro insetti" is one of the peaks of the tracklist. A suspended melody, airy arrangements over which the voice acts as a narrating self, both fraternal and cosmic. In "Non c'è vita sopra i 3000 kelvin" the pace shifts again, becoming more unpredictable and brisk, and it carries another invitation to listen to the body, which would almost seem didactic if the music didn't have its own irregular grammar: "Metti un orecchio sul mio petto e all'improvviso hai capito tutto".

“Les jeux sont faits” is the track where the contribution of Phoenix's Laurent Brancowitz is most noticeable, though he oversaw the whole album. “Tutta la terra finisce in mare” translates into music a newfound serenity. Yet within the clarity of the melody and the gentle restraint of the vocals, there emerges a kind of impossible sadness, woven like a watermark through the sound.

The voice is neither unshakeable nor resigned; it simply takes on its own fragility. And that's the best way to face tomorrow. “Un aggettivo, un verbo, una parola”, carried by a descending harmonic movement, plunges deep down, a vertical journey of great, understated intensity. “Delle barche e i transatlantici” is an open ending. Nothing can truly be controlled: fingers miss the buttonhole, and then you have to trust the sea, its warm currents, the racing hulls that follow dolphins. So the journey always goes on, and life, inevitably, will explode again.

As far as this writer is concerned, the best Italian album 2025 has given us so far.