Chrisma

It's no secret that the phenomenon known as Krisma – still Chrisma at this point – remains, to this day, almost completely unknown in Italy. Halfway between the searing nihilism of Ultravox, the futurist approach of Kraftwerk and a boundless curiosity for the experimentalism of the Neue Deutsche Welle, throughout the Eighties the historic Milanese new wave duo made up of Maurizio Arcieri and Christina Moser represented, quite significantly, a new alternative scene that, in a country dominated by singer-songwriters and "canzonette", broke decisively with the irritating monotony of the charts, offering an energetic, modern and layered sound, even if drawn from the aforementioned influences of the era. The revolution they carried out, or supposedly carried out, would later be acknowledged exclusively in the United States and Europe. Everywhere, that is, except Italy.

The disorienting debut “Chinese Restaurant”, released in 1977 on Polydor, bears the mark of Niko Papathanassiou, brother of Greek film-score composer Vangelis, who believed from the very start in the concept of hypnosis pursued through the avant-garde arrangements found on the record: between the intricate kraut-rock of "C-Rock", the romantic space-age pop of "Lola" and the mesmerizing dance-punk of "Black Silk Stoking" – the duo's best-loved track – the pair manage to carve out a considerable niche for themselves within the Italian alternative scene of the late Seventies.

“Chinese Restaurant” comes across as an album of escape from the mountain of pop-rock stereotypes, yet another slap in the face of "here you go, as usual", of resting on one's laurels, and of lofty, unreachable peaks. About a year and a half would pass before they put together a second studio album.

Recorded in late 1978 and released the following year, "Hibernation" certainly doesn't reach the cohesion and stylistic perfection of the previous milestone, but it does scatter a number of gems that simply can't be overlooked.

The abrasive electric guitar riff on "Calling", played by Ezio Vevey of the symphonic progressive band La Locanda delle Fate, makes for a magnificent opening to the Milanese duo's second studio effort. The long reach of German cosmic music, a constant presence throughout the concept, instils a sense of unease and draws us into an excellent emulation of the era's kraut conventions. 

Next comes the sensual anti-hit "Aurora B." A spiritual heir to "Lola", and one of the duo's most celebrated songs, the composition unfolds over beautifully blended synths and Moser's velvety voice. The song's music video is unforgettable, showing the two musicians flirting against a backdrop of warm, never-trite synths.

The musical-synthetic approach takes shape in the evasive "Rush '79", surrounded by a whirlwind of synths that psychically ensnare the listener like a spider caught in its own web. Riding synth-pop/zolo movements, the comic, dystopian satire of "Hibernated Nazi" stars a Nazi trapped inside a freezer cell who – thawed out after half a century – finds himself facing a reality not so different from the one he was used to.

The circular synth-punk of "Gott Gott Electron" revolves around a lively melody and a refrain that's recognizable in its own way. Equally noteworthy is the minimal post-punk of "We R.", enriched by the ingenious violin playing of multi-instrumentalist Lucio Fabbri, a name that carries real weight among fans of Italian progressive rock (Piazza delle Erbe, Pfm, Demetrio Stratos, Eugenio Finardi, Claudio Rocchi). Driven by obsessive, angry rhythms, "So You Don't" navigates between furious post-punk and minimal wave movements that are radical to say the least.

Closing out the record is the track "Vetra Platz", in which Arcieri's vocals stand out in particular, unaware – along with Moser – of his imminent shift towards a more conventional strain of new wave with the Krisma project, where a then-unknown Hans Zimmer would lend his hand to the synthesizers on the album "Cathode Mamma", released by Polydor in 1980.

As happened to anyone who broached the subject, Krisma were branded as Nazis by Italy's left-wing critics, on account of the aforementioned satirical track. Their radical shift towards a simpler, less experimental sound would, throughout the Eighties, mark the maturing of a refined style that was, however, no longer as surprising as it had been on their earlier landmark records. Even so, were Krisma to rise again today, they would still have plenty to teach when it comes to setting the rules of stylistic and performative emulation.

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22/04/2026