Nascita Della Sfera - Per una Scultura di Ceschia

 Equal parts electronic avantgarde and traditional acoustic folk sandwiched in a sound collage, Per una Scultura di Ceschia is the 1978 work of mastermind Carlo Barbiera and musical collective Nascita Della Sfera.  The album plays like a movie soundtrack to the life of sculptor Luciano Ceschia and in fact reminds me of another soundtrack - Goblin's score to Solamente Nero, released that same year.  Both works rely on a blend of structured composition and calculated improvisation, electronic experimentation, tape manipulation and tons of atmosphere.  In Barbiera's favor are a talented ensemble cast full of risk-takers, competent enough to bring melody to the table when necessary, but humble enough to step aside if the piece dictates.  Per una Scultura di Ceschia is noisy and seemingly random yet there is a simple logic to its intended purpose:  Music is more than just notes and rhythm, but a journey; a discovery waiting to be made, a blank canvas ready to be filled in.  Nascita Della Sfera in their search for three-dimensional music have left a curious yet memorable mark on the Italian Prog map, and I can't recommend it enough to those with an open mind.

Though the painfully rare LP is sequenced into 19 separate tracks, each side runs seamlessly from one musical vision to another with only brief transitions between them.  The actual running order is an art form unto itself, as these transitions, whether they be jarring or fluid, add nearly as much to the music as the music itself.  To play the album on shuffle or random order creates an entirely different experience.  Of the two sides I prefer the latter, folky one to the former, more abstract one.  The first side may seem somewhat slow at first but it sets the template for the album's cohesive conclusion.  Side B begins with the honky-tonk horror of "Puntine," before a ticking alarm clock abruptly stops; the gentle "Verdi Prati" and its solemn flute then calms the listener.  We fade to Echoplex nightmares as a distant fingerpicked guitar announces "Magia."  Spoken word and sound effects introduce "Adam," the highlight of the disc, as a beautifully played folk jig is buried beneath heavy breathing, childlike speech and even animal mimicry.  The guitar chimes harmonically and segues to "La Fonderia" which briefly mixes spacey minimalism with tape loops.  "L'incoronazione" layers these sounds with flute and airy synths, echoing the melody of "La Sfera" from Side A.  The jazzy "Luci Dal Pianeta" leads into "Sotto Il Ponte," which sounds like a twisted theatrical rehearsal.  "Nell'Universo/Sul Ferro" anticlimactically concludes the album with a lo-fi electric blues.  Weird.

To describe Per una Scultura di Ceschia is a bit like giving directions to someone who's never driven a car.  In order to get where you're going, you first have to understand the methodology.  Barbiera and Nascita Della Sfera knew where they wanted to go, they just didn't have the directions.  The anecdotes included in the generous CD liner notes paint a serendipitous picture of how this group of kids went from being a sleazy cover band to art-rock pioneers in only six gigs; perhaps some embellishment livens the story but Barbiera seems like a captivating character and his accounts only add to the value of this package.  Also included are some forty minutes of bonus tracks, featuring live rehearsals, outtakes, and additional material that didn't make the final cut.  Per una Scultura di Ceschia may not fit the traditional RPI mold but its contribution to the genre is worthwhile and heartily recommended.

Museo Rosenbach - Barbarica

 Rosenbach is back!

The latest in a trend of classic RPI bands reuniting for one more round, Museo Rosenbach join the ranks of Alphataurus, Locanda Delle Fate, and Garybaldi with new releases in the last year.  Of those, only Alphataurus has offered a new studio recording, which Barbarica easily tops in both originality and authenticity.  Original Museo members "Lupo" Galifi, Giancarlo Golzi, and Alberto Moreno are again joined by guitarists Sandro Libra and Max Borelli, bassist Andy Senis, and keyboard player Fabio Meggetto as on the Zarathustra Live in Studio album.  These new recruits are able to achieve the rarely possible task of breathing new life into an old band while maintaining that group's original sensibility.  Barbarica actually sounds like Museo Rosenbach, which is amazing considering the amount of time passed and changes in the musical landscape.  A leaner, more aggressive band has emerged and while this suits the lyrical theme of war-torn civilization, it may rub some Museo stalwarts the wrong way.  Heavy Prog has morphed into a hybrid Symphonic Metal genre that Museo Rosenbach seems to embrace, and this stylistic choice prevents the album from becoming a four-star affair in my book.  Still, Barbarica is one of the better contemporary Italian Prog albums I've heard this year.

The album's centerpiece of course is the 14-minute "Il Respiro Del Pianeta" which hearkens immediately to the sound of 1973's classic Zarathustra.  Though Barbarica never approaches the genius of that album, it keeps an eye to the past while trying new ideas.  At times however, this new Museo relies a little too much on its own legacy and uses some of the same stylistic changes and mood shifts that so define the band's classic sound:  In the first four minutes alone, no fewer than six distinct sections introduce "Il Respiro Del Pianeta," which borders on excess in my opinion.  This Economy of Scale approach belies the individual members' contributions, and almost seems like too many cooks are stirring the broth.  Though the sheer amount of compositional concepts is impressive, the transitions between them can feel forced in some cases.  For instance, the pause at 5:30 as the song shifts from romantic balladry to testosterone-laden Hammond Rock...perhaps this respite was intentional but it seems like the band just couldn't find a way to get from point A to point B without simply stopping in between.

The remaining four tracks do a better job of progressing the identity of the band without being nostalgic.  Lupo leads a determined bunch on "La Coda Del Diavolo," which reminds me a lot of his work with Il Tempo Delle Clessidre.  "Abbandonati" reflects the album's cover art with its African themes and tribal chanting.  "Fiore Di Vendetta" is the most modern sounding track here, and doesn't impress.  "Il Re Del Circo" has a much darker tone and does the best job of blending the classic Museo sound with a new twist.  Barbarica is a must-have for Contemporary Italian Prog fans; RPI collectors will no doubt be intrigued by its appeal, and even adventurous Heavy Prog listeners may find something to take away.  The average Prog fan though will probably want to pass on Barbarica for now, and come back to it when a taste for foreign-language music has developed.  Three really strong stars.

Biglietto per L'Inferno - Il Tempo Della Semina

 What would have been Biglietto per L'Inferno's second album is anchored by two exceptionally strong pieces at the beginning and end, and what I would consider filler in the middle.  Finally seeing release in 1992, Il Tempo Della Semina was recorded in 1974 and a causality of the Trident label's collapse; luckily a cassette copy survived and is the basis for this reissue.  In some ways this album sounds better than the debut which is amazing considering the source material, although it can sound flat and lifeless at times.  Biglietto still had some good ideas here resulting in twenty minutes of captivating material, and fifteen minutes of drudgery.  I would rate Il Tempo Della Semina good, but non-essential for the casual prog fan.  RPI collectors will want to seek it out for historical significance alone, as it has steadily been in print and is easy to come by.

The original 1992 Mellow CD is the only version I've heard, and will refer to that release; later issues apparently have a differing track sequence which may or may not alter the listening experience.  The album begins with the explosive title track, which was also captured on the Live 1974 album with a slightly different arrangement.  "Il Tempo Della Semina" picks up right where the first album left off, featuring plenty of articulate drumming, mounds of keyboard, heavy guitar, and of course the enigmatic voice of Claudio Canali.  The singer sounds uncomfortably determined and cinematic, reminding me very much of Christian Decamps from Ange.  Canali's mysterious vocals hide for much of the song, as the band takes front and center through various twists and turns.  The sextuplet organ figure at the five minute mark is impossibly great and propels the group into overdrive, pausing only briefly to set up dynamic contrast.  This trademark light-and-dark is what makes the debut so enjoyable, and that feeling continues throughout "Il Tempo Della Semina."

"Mente Sola - Mente" is a throwaway vaudeville piece that totally halts the album's momentum.  "Vivi Lotta Pensa" recaptures quite a bit of that energy and the short song doesn't outstay its welcome.  "L'arte Sublime di un Giusto Regnare" threatens to do just that, but luckily fades out before becoming overly laborious.  "Solo Ma Vivo" is the best of these three shorter tracks, and gives the best indication of the direction in which Biglietto was heading - a more succinct, almost commercial one.  At last the long "La Canzone Del Padre" completes the set, and strikes a balance between the band's earlier, heavier material and more lighthearted work.  The song sounds like a cross between Banco and Jumbo to me, though it never really approaches either in terms of creativity or emotional value.  The last minute of the song however is utterly brilliant  and the payoff makes Il Tempo Della Semina more than worth the purchase price.  Italian Prog fans will have a difficult decision to make in buying the album, because it's not a matter of "if," but a matter of "when."

Osanna - Milano Calibro 9

 Despite being largely instrumental and partially composed by Luis E. Bacalov, the soundtrack to Milano Calibro 9 is Osanna's most successful effort as a band and their best album in my opinion.  L'Uomo was a laborious debut, and the popular Palepoli is too fractured and chaotic for my tastes; Milano Calibro 9 finds a perfect middle ground, blending the band's hard-rocking beginnings with later diverse influences seamlessly.  Interestingly, the album is not a soundtrack at all but a separate studio recording of the film's score - the music heard in the actual film was performed and recorded live and differs significantly from the LP version.  The album is a more concise and calculated rendering of those somewhat raw and off-the-cuff performances.  Also of interest is "Canzona," which is not featured in the movie at all, but tacked on to the end of the soundtrack and the only true vocal track here.  Milano Calibro 9 can be placed among the great film soundtracks of all time, matching Goblin's best work and even exceeding it on some levels.

Milano Calibro 9 is an Italian crime thriller with plenty of action and creative cinematography.  After the respective success of L'Uomo and New Trolls' Concerto Grosso, Osanna and Bacalov were paired to score the film.  Bacalov's distinctive orchestration is primarily limited to the first two pieces, "Preludio" and "Tema."  The first is led by a repeating piano figure that is used throughout the film as incidental music.  "Preludio" builds on the piano motif, gradually adding heavy guitar and strings, before the band proper enters fully.  Osanna's characteristic flute sound makes an appearance or two, while singer Lino Varietti is no where to be found (he is also credited with ARP synthesizer, which is heard briefly oscillating at the end).  "Tema" is a far more restrained affair, gently balancing delicate piano and strings as Danilo Rustici strums crystalline chords.  The guitarist then impresses with a backwards guitar solo as drums and bass pump and sway.  This first nine minutes of music are moody, over-the-top and self-important...a true RPI fan's dream.

A series of "Variazione" pieces make up the bulk of the album, and are nothing more than Osanna jamming out to the movie.  The music is strong enough to stand on its own, but seeing it in context certainly helps.  Highlights abound, but specifically "Variazione II (My Mind Flies)" and the spacey atmosphere it creates is extremely rewarding, particularly the acoustic bridge where Varietti enters for the first time.   The instrumentals continue with the Tullish "Variazione III," heavy riffing on "Variazione IV," bluesy swagger of "Variazione VI," and jazz tones on "Variazione VII."  Though these diverse elements seem random and arbitrary it somehow just works.  Tying everything together is the saccharine "Canzona (There Will Be Time)."  The song showcases the collaborative spirit with Bacalov, perhaps even more than his work with New Trolls.  Lyrically the song is inspired by T.S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," and embodies the anguish and cautious optimism of that work commendably.  Milano Calibro 9 is a must for OST collectors and any RPI enthusiast; the general prog audience may find the album boring with repeated listens.

Il Balletto di Bronzo - Ys

 I can think of no other band making such an enormous jump from one album to the next than Il Balletto di Bronzo.  Their 1970 debut Sirio 2222 was a heavy psych/proto metal release - solid, but not exactly Prog.  Enter Gianni Leone:  The keyboardist and singer brought with him an arsenal of sound-shaping instruments, a challenging and frenetic energy, and an ostentatious concept with accompanying lyrics.  Ys was the result...a rock band playing opera music...not a rock opera, mind you, but a full-fledged opera in five movements or "encounters," all designed to paint a bleak, apocalyptic vision.  Often described as a masterpiece of the Italian movement, I can think of no better word to describe it; Ys is unquestionably a masterpiece of RPI, though each listener will approach and leave it a bit differently.  But each one is undoubtedly changed, at first unsure why such brashness and violently terrifying arrangement and instrumentation is necessary to achieve its purpose, but eventually reaching the realization that they have experienced something special and different. It is that singular experience that makes Ys a work of art.

The chilling, siren-like voice that announces "Introduzione" is a now iconic moment in prog, but it's easy to see why upon release Ys was largely misunderstood or even avoided.  This is not a lullaby.  "Introduzione" is a 15-minute nightmare, taking the listener on a startling musical journey.  Leone sings competently enough but it's his keyboard work that takes front and center - a battery of organ, piano, Moog, Mellotron and plucked keys generously drive the group, while the remaining band plays more of a support role.  This is particularly true of guitar, which typically takes a back seat to drums and bass.  The apropos accompaniment perfectly showcases Leone's grand scheme, and allows his brand of calculated insanity to roam and soar.  The end of "Introduzione" prefaces "Primo Incontro," the first of three short movements.  The combination of twisted tremolo guitar and unexpected spinet is an enticing combination, with plenty of explosive drum work and tasteful bass playing that only adds to the complex track.

"Secondo Incontro" is the closest Ys ever gets to traditional rock music, as Leone sings a bluesy introduction that quickly transforms into a brilliant vocal melody, frighteningly supported by Mellotron. The snare drum pops and bounces like a ping pong ball while bass slyly segues to "Terzo Incontro."  This third encounter features organ and choir, as drums bubble under the surface, only coming up for air at the end of each phrase in a tense fashion.  This suspenseful tension is fully heightened in "Epilogo," which begins with a repeating sextuplet figure before establishing something far more sinister.  If you want to sleep tonight, I would strongly recommend skipping the middle of "Epilogo."  Get up, grab a drink, check the mail, whatever.  Don't come back for five minutes.  The morbidly curious will likely be scared beyond imagination.  Those that survive are generously rewarded with one of the most haunting moments in all of Italian Prog.  You should already own Ys, but if you don't, get it now.

Alphataurus - Dietro L'Uragano

 This collection of unfinished demos from 1973 demonstrates the potential Alphataurus possessed, but the absence of vocals and poor sound quality relegate Dietro L'Uragano to collector-only status.  The majority of these song structures would finally be fully realized some forty years later on AttosecondO, which also lacks the vocal duties of Michele Bavaro; his iconic wail is the main attraction of Alphataurus' stunning debut, and one which this flawed release is sorely missing.  Dietro L'Uragano is about half as good as that debut album, and earns two stars accordingly.

Though far from bootleg standards, Dietro L'Uragano is not exactly studio quality either, the first half sounding slightly more listenable than the second.  To make matters worse, these recordings were sullied with the use of NoNoise Sonic Solutions, a digital noise reduction tool which has notably compromised the catalogs of David Bowie and Jimi Hendrix, among others.  This 1992 archival release had the life sucked completely out of it, but you cannot degrade its importance or historical value because of these mastering choices.  If anything, Ciro Perrino is to be applauded for his tireless attention and hard work for Mellow Records in the 1990s and beyond, salvaging and publishing many such recordings.  On the flip-side, these releases were usually limited in nature, and the now-ridiculously-rare and overly expensive Dietro L'Uragano would not be a worthwhile pursuit for the average prog fan, or even the casual RPI fan.

Regarding the actual music:  "Ripensando E..." is the most complete of the four tracks, not suffering terribly from lack of vocals; this actually allows more space around the instruments, particularly keyboards, and permits the band to shine on its own merits.  Although the songwriting is not quite the same caliber as on the self-titled album, there are definitely some good ideas here.  "Valigie di Terra" is less successful, taking almost five minutes to find a groove before finally capturing that elusive Alphataurus magic.  I especially love the nasty cluster chord, previously used in "Peccato D'Orglio," courtesy of organist Pietro Pellegrini.  Unfortunately "Idea Incompiuta" and "Claudette" do nothing for me, despite the appearance of vocals in the latter.  Dietro L'Uragano displays a group at the peak of its powers, and though I still prefer these original recordings to the studio versions on AttosecondO, I can't really recommend either.

Procession - Frontiera

 Frontiera has it all - heavy guitars, shimmering folk passages, confident singing, powerful drumming and even some Mellotron - wrapped up in a convenient package you can carry with you (literally...the LP had a handle).  Though it did take a while for me to warm to Procession, the group is unique in the realm of RPI since they don't really fit the traditional mold; classically-inspired motifs are nary to be found, instead favored by molten riffs a la Black Sabbath mixed with regional sensibilities.  The band from northern Italy created a lyrically thematic tale of immigration and desegregation, which were apparently hot-button issues in Torino at the time.  The lyrics are lost on me but the push and pull between heavy prog aggression and whimsical flair speaks for itself; Frontiera succeeds on a musical level so much so that I would recommend it to all RPI listeners.

For a 1972 album, Frontiera sounds well recorded and produced.  The small Help! label folded shortly after this release, leaving the band on hiatus for nearly two years until they signed with Fonit.  I would describe Procession as a cross between Flea and early Il Balletto di Bronzo with Robert Plant singing.  The guitars are also reminiscent of Led Zeppelin at times, particularly in the extensive use of 12-string.  The instrument opens "Ancora Una Notte," drums and fuzz guitar join in, and massively booming bass feeds back before the whole thing roars to a stop.  Acoustic guitar supports vocalist Gianfranco Gaza, whose distinctive voice gives the group exactly the gravitas it needs.  "Uomini e Illusioni" features some dual-guitar riffage...again the bass is enormously omnipresent and sounds great.  Drums jam and bounce while Gaza floats along the top of the whole thing.  This is good, good stuff.  We transition right into "Citta' Grande," my favorite song so far, and an epic middle section reminds us this is definitely RPI.  A multitude of harmonized guitars and bass give way to a classical guitar interlude which somberly closes the song.

"Incontro" displays classic Torinese spirit, using mandolin and tamborine to achieve a singalong effect. This fades right into "Anche Io Sono Un Uomo" which is a dark, brooding piece amply colored with Mellotron strings.  "Un Mondo Di Liberta" is the song that elevates Frontiera from three to four stars in my opinion; the song contains quite possibly the most thunderous riff in all of Italian Prog and drums that sound like fireworks going off.  But this is just half the story - the eight-minute piece changes abruptly at the halfway mark, leaving Gaza to sing with only acoustic guitar support.  Eventually drums and bass enter and contribute accordingly.  The "Solo/Un'Ombra Che Vaga" medley starts off with straight rock swagger and then fades to another 12-string section with some clean tones added for good measure.  This brief respite is plundered by a reappearance of The Riff, of which I can never get enough anyway.  Finally "Solo 2" reprises its predecessor with some harmonica and lead guitar thrown in.  I can't say enough good things about Frontiera and will leave it at that.

Triade - 1998: La Storia di Sabazio

 A criminally short album and yet another victim of the "one-album-wonder" curse, 1998: La Storia di Sabazio is a respectable offering but not one I reach for often.  Emerson, Lake & Palmer comparisons aside, Triade actually reminds me more of Latte e Miele than Le Orme.  Comparisons to all of the above are easily made as the album is fairly derivative, but more by wearing influences on its sleeve instead of a strictly hero-worship kind of way.  The second side is the more original of the two, and probably more listenable as well.  The longish title track in particular will be a breath of fresh air to even the most cynical RPI apologists, as it presents a different take on the sweetly melodic and romantic genre to which it belongs.  1998: La Storia di Sabazio is a good album, but not essential or even necessary.

Triade was a bit of a mystery for many years, as the original Derby LP did not specify the band members' complete identities, only pictures and songwriting credits.  Luckily this situation was resolved in 2003 thanks to the tireless research of Augusto Croce, which in no small part led to the CD reissue on BTF/AMS two years later.  The wonderfully recorded album begins with a side long, instrumental suite:  "Nascita" kicks things off with dark organ and cello overtones, before drums and bass conspire to attack in a classically-inspired fashion; "Sabazio: Il Viaggio" is silly at first, but turns far more sinister as tritone intervals dominate the harmony between bass and Hammond - some nice melodic synths transition to the next movement; "Il Sogno" features cello in a more obvious way, and to good effect before bass and keys piddle along to interrupt; "Vita Nuova" uses classical music as a framework for this pleasing piano composition; "Il Circo" recapitulates many of the previously used elements in a more aggressive way.

"Espressione" begins the disparate second side, which largely abandons the organ-bass-drums format in favor of lush keys, acoustic guitar, and vocals.  I could definitely handle an album's worth of this material, but these 16 minutes will have to do.  "Espressione" is a joy and the best example of traditional RPI on the album.  "Caro Fratello" regrettably returns to an ELP impersonation for the first two minutes, but is luckily saved by airy synths and guitar for its duration; drums enter toward the end and give the song a pensive, driving feel.  An extended organ solo closes the track. "1998 (Millenovecentonovantotto)" is a worthy closer as it does the best job at integrating these various elements - the classical musicianship, singer-songwriter vulnerability, and gentle tension - into a cohesive concept and one that finally works, at least for these six minutes.  1998: La Storia di Sabazio suffers from a case of quality over quantity, as the former is abundant...there's just not enough of it to go around.

Officina Meccanica - La Follia Del Mimo Di Fuoco

 Equal parts theatrical weirdness and captivating accessibility, Officina Meccanica never had the chance to release an album during their lifespan.  La Follia Del Mimo Di Fuoco is a compilation of singles and unreleased recordings, resulting in a surprisingly cohesive and fluid listening experience.  Often described as a cross between Chicago and Van Der Graaf Generator, Officina Meccanica (OM) employ horns in conjunction with the grand RPI tradition; an interesting combination to be sure, but one that works amazingly well due to the outstanding musicianship on display.  OM was fronted by the charismatic and mysterious Luciano Maiozzi, whose voice is a cross between that of Alusa Fallax and Corte di Miracoli; at times I hear Hunka Munka as well, but Maiozzi always manages to create his own unique identity.  This is evident to some degree on the three included singles (and bonus track "Angelo"), but especially so on the live studio tracks - they capture the OM experience perfectly.  That this material would remain unearthed for so long is offensive as the quality is immeasurably high...La Follia Del Mimo Di Fuoco is a five-star effort for me personally, but a four-star compilation.

The "Bambi Innocenti" video was broadcast on RAI in 1974, the exposure allowing Officina Meccanica to successfully tour in support of the single; unfortunately this delayed recording of the album proper, and the live studio material was not recorded until 1976.  By 1978 OM had folded, closing the book on this incomparable chapter of Italian rock history.  "Bambi Innocenti" crams about eight different songs in its relatively short seven-minute length, but never feels random or contrived.  The first three minutes specifically are magical, with Maiozzi singing tenderly and aggressively, often in the same breath; jarring horn blasts and overdriven amplifiers share equal time with spacious ambiance and classical guitar.  "Bambi Innocenti" is one of those songs that manages to summarize the entire RPI movement while sounding nothing like it.  If there was ever an argument about why RPI deserves its own subgrenre classification, this song makes it.

The other two singles, "Insieme al Sole" and "Amanti di Ieri," showcase the songwriting talents of the group and though the instrumentation is relatively sparse in comparison, stack up well against "Bambi Innocenti" if somewhat less successfully.  That brings us to the live stuff - this is the real meat of the compilation, and does a better job at capturing what an OM show would have been like:  "Primo Turno" sounds like Osanna with Claudio Canali singing; "Via Non Esiste" relies on a funky beat and plenty of trumpet manipulation before a heavy prog breakdown demolishes any semblance of danceability; "Nel Grattacielo Delle Idee il Pensiero...Piu Alto" starts with jerky Area rhythmicity, unison stacatto in the horn section, and plenty of Maiozzi weirdness; finally, the lengthy "Il Viaggio di...Nella Valle del Tempo" begins as a reveille, with languid cornet and a march beat, before guitar and bass float in seamlessly...then, as if out of nowhere, a frantic unison figure bursts forth and propels the song forward for much of the remaining ten minutes.

The hauntingly beautiful "Angelo" may well be my favorite track on the album; its inclusion is a treat and helps to flesh out the idiosyncratic identity of this odd collection of characters.  Officina Meccanica, in my opinion, is one of the most important historical finds ever, on par with Buon Vecchio Charlie and Sensitiva Immagine; all RPI devotees will need to track it down if they have not already done so.  The conventional progressive rock fan may not have the patience for this collection, but fans of VDGG and Gentle Giant won't have any trouble with it.  A bitter pill to swallow this is, but one that cures what ails you.  9/10.

Le Orme - Smogmagica

 What a disappointment.  After an amazing four-album run between 1971 and 1974, Le Orme adds a guitarist and travels to California for the recording of their next album.  The result was Smogmagica, a radical departure for the band and a failure in terms of consistency and lasting appeal.  There are a few flashes of brilliance here and there, but they are so fleeting I can't get to three stars.  The album is also terribly front-loaded; the first two songs are the best on Smogmagica and everything else pales in comparison.  I hate to say the best thing about Smogmagica is its length...the short album doesn't outstay it's welcome.  All Le Orme fans will want to acquire this at some point but the typical prog fan and even most RPI collectors will find Smogmagica largely non-essential.

Some would argue that Orme had lost their way by 1974 on Contrappunti; I personally love that album, and don't see Smogmagica as a logical extension of it.  If only judging a book by its cover, you immediately know something is different here just from looking at the splendid Paul Whitehead sleeve.  Unfortunately the contents don't quite live up to these expectations, and within lies second-rate rock music.  Don't be misled by the excellent "Los Angeles" - it's all downhill from here, though the canonical "Amico di Ieri" has become a Le Orme staple over the years and deservedly so.  The only other highlight is the listenable "Immensa Distesa."  I can't figure out what "Ora o Mai Pui" is supposed to be...it sounds like the Beach Boys playing theme music for a TV sitcom.  The intentionally trippy "Laserium Floyd" is an obvious ode to its namesake; "Primi Passi" and "L'Uomo del Pianino" are poorly-executed commercial attempts; "Amanti di Citta'" and "Laurel Canyon" are decent but nothing extraordinary.  2.5 stars is generous for this lackluster Le Orme release.

Goblin - Perché Si Uccidono

 Released under the pseudonym "Il Reale Impero Britannica," Goblin's soundtrack to the controversial 1976 film Perché Si Uccidono is very different from most of their material.  The individual songs are varied and distinctive, giving the album a compilation feel; every track sounds like a possible single, largely abandoning Goblin's trademark mystery, and instead hearkens back to their days as a backing band on Gamma.  Though this is the same group that simultaneously recorded Roller, Perché Si Uccidono sounds nothing like it.  It's almost as if Goblin used the anonymity of Il Reale Impero Britannica as a vehicle for these compositions that didn't necessarily fit the Goblin mold; I doubt this is the case as the name change was primarily due to Cinevox and their blocking of the Goblin name because of the movie's subject matter.  Ridiculously obscure and hard-to-find for years, the album is now readily available as a digital download and is highly recommended for soundtrack collectors, Goblin fans and even instrumental music lovers.

The introductory "Epopea" is announced with a gong crash and Claudio Simonetti's keyboard onslaught.  As on Cherry Five and Roller, Simonetti plays a key role, providing most of the melody single-handedly.  Nowhere is this more apparent than the gentle "Ammoniaca," as Simonetti trades in the Moog for electric piano, amply assisted by swathes of tape synthesizer.  "Kalu" adds real orchestration to a sleazy, funky backdrop; imagine "Barney Miller" meets Ennio Morricone.  "Edda" is the first track with vocals, sweetly provided by namesake Edda Dell'Orso, who also worked with Morricone.  Again Simonetti is all over this thing, dishing out tons of Mellotron and Fender Rhodes in equal measure.  "Epopea (Reprise)" is a jaunty shuffle version of the album opener.

Cherry Five singer Tony Tartarini makes a guest appearance on the album's only other vocal track.  "My Damned Shit" is lyrically kitschy but is still strong melodically.  A symphonic tone describes "Docici E un Quarto," my favorite on the album, sounding somewhat like early Procol Harum.  "Block" sees guitarist Massimo Morante step out of Simonetti's shadow, asserting himself after more of a support role.  "R.I.B." is vintage Goblin, heavy on the theatrics and atmosphere.  "Apotheke" previews the urban sound Goblin would adopt on many of their late-seventies soundtracks like La Via Della Droga.  Lastly, "Distrazoni" offers a killer analog synth solo atop a tasty funk foundation.  Perché Si Uccidono is hardly the most representative Goblin album and may not please everyone but it is one of my favorites, and I heartily recommend it.

Museo Rosenbach - Zarathustra Live in Studio

 It does what it says on the tin - RPI heroes Museo Rosenbach reunite nearly 40 years later to re-record their landmark 1973 release Zarathustra note-for-note. Founding members Stefano "Lupo" Galifi (vocals), Giancarlo Golzi (drums), and Alberto Moreno (piano) are assisted by an ample cast including guitarists Sandro Libra and Max Borelli, bassist Andy Senis, and keyboard player Fabio Meggetto. The extra hands on deck allow Museo to realize and revitalize the album without compromise, and fully cover all the integral parts of the original. The running order has been altered somewhat, placing the climactic "Zarathustra" suite at the end, as performed in concert. The sound is decidedly modern, bringing the somewhat hastily recorded original into the 21st century with a heavier edge. Always a Heavy Prog group, the new Museo Rosenbach almost skew Progressive Metal, primarily due to the thrash tone of the guitars. The whole production reminds me a lot of Claudio Simonetti's work with Daemonia, and how the Goblin catalog was interpreted. This can be good or bad depending on how you look at it; while I would love for Museo Rosenbach to have new-found success and get the attention they deserve, in my opinion there is nothing wrong with the original album. Quite the contrary: Zarathustra is an essential RPI pillar and one of the top five Italian Prog albums in nearly everyone's list. Though this new Zarathustra will never replace the original, the more the merrier I suppose.

"Dell'Eterno Ritorno" is prefaced with a newly-penned "Intro" section - I hear some middle-eastern influences and don't quite understand the connection but the song proper begins soon enough. I was taken aback immediately by the crisp, modern production; I expected Live in Studio to sound good, just not this good. For a live album, the performances are spot-on and maybe even a little too perfect. Lupo sounds like he hasn't aged a day and his voice is in incredible shape. Golzi and Moreno also provide impressive contributions, doubly so for Moreno who also serves as bandleader and artistic director. "Degli Uomini" and its immediately recognizable Mellotron intro take things up a notch in the energy department. The keyboard sounds are actually pretty authentic for software synths - of course I would prefer the genuine article, but from a logistical standpoint they make more sense.  "Della Natura" is an accurate portrayal of the original, though some liberties are taken here and there.  The palm-muted guitar technique is overdone at times, but the general spirit of the song is never lost.

The 22-minute "Zarathustra" suite and its five movements are faithfully reproduced, though the new band members are permitted to leave their stamp and make it their own.  Andy Senis in particular does a great job re-imagining some of the bass lines, in many cases improving upon the original.  Again the keyboards are tasteful for the most part and Golzi is just a beast on the drums.  Live in Studio is well done if somewhat unnecessary.  I would much rather hear some new material or have a DVD of the performance instead.  As a contemporary release it is still miles better than 90 percent of music today, and the timelessness of the original is fully vindicated and celebrated.  And it's a lot of fun.

Reale Accademia Di Musica - La Cometa

 La Cometa was supposed to be Reale Accademia Di Musica's second album - it was shelved for unknown reasons and remained unreleased until 2010.  Composed exclusively by Henryk Topel, La Cometa was recorded in 1974 by a transitional formation of the band; core members Topel and Frederico Troiani were joined by guitarists Enzo De Luca, Gianfranco Coletta and Pericle Sponzilli, drummers Roberto Senzasono and Stefano Fournier, bassist Carlo Bruno, guest violinist Toni Marcus and singer Micaela Grandi.  Even Adriano Monteduro, whom had recorded his first solo album with the group, lends backing vocal duties and inspiration.  La Cometa shares some qualities with that album, namely the wealth of acoustic guitar-centric material and shorter song development, but also hints at the previous greatness RAM achieved on their immaculate debut.  I feel fortunate to have heard La Cometa and wish it were available in a physical format - the digital download will set you back a mere six dollars.  Personally I want to give the release four stars but, being reasonable, it is a luxury and non-essential by nature.

The title track "La Cometa" swirls in with a freewheeling attitude, and is reminiscent of "Ognuno Sa" from the debut.  Though the six-minute track is the longest on the album, it never really ventures too far from jammy blues so don't expect a mini-epic.  The restrained "Nenae" is deliciously beautiful and my favorite from the first half.  The backing vocalists particularly shine, as limited percussion and subtle bass play a more reserved role.  "Quando Moriro," with its catchy chorus and playful fiddle, is enjoyable but somewhat one-dimensional.  "Aereoporto" seems reflective and is the most 'progressive' of the bunch - check out the cascading guitar in 9/8 just after the second verse.

"Makumba Hotel" has a Spanish feel and creates some interesting tension to break up the album a bit.  Though we may never know the original running order or if the album was ever completed as originally conceived, a few more bumps in the road like this couldn't have hurt.  "Oratorio," by far my favorite song on La Cometa, is a Beatlesesque hymn and totally perfect in every way.  Monteduro's angelic backing vocals provide the necessary balance to Topel's somewhat uncharacteristic crooning.  If you do nothing else today, go buy this song and tell me your day didn't just get a little better.  "Una Canzone" reminds the listener of the charismatic opener and has a little harmonica goodness going on.  "Uomo Rosa" is an interesting honky-tonk and not my favorite here.  "Topolino Topel" is a silly closer that sounds like a game show theme song.  In all, La Cometa is a worthy addition to any RPI collection and a must for RAM fans.  I could certainly think of a worse way to spend six bucks - you can't even buy lunch for that.

Uno - Uno

 Once Osanna split in 1974, singer Lino Viaretti and drummer Massimo Guarino formed Citta Frontale, leaving founding members Danilo Rustici and Elio D'Anna.  After recruiting drummer Enzo Vallicelli of Hellza Poppin, Uno was born.  Label Fonit spared no expense for their promising investment, bringing the band to London to record in the famed Trident Studios and even secured Hipgnosis for the UK album cover.  Sung in English and Italian, Uno's debut album was supposed to be the international breakthrough the label was looking for, which Osanna was never able to deliver.  The results were less than astonishing, and in this writer's opinion, abysmal.  Uno fails on just about every level, narrowly missing a one-star rating.  The performances feel phoned in; Viaretti's singing is sorely missed; production standards are well below the mark considering the caliber of studio in which it was recorded.  Uno can only be recommended to Osanna fans as it does play a defining role in that group's creative arc.  Despite my misgivings, Uno still belongs in any complete RPI collection as a tertiary title.

Being forced to choose, I would say "Right Place" is the best track on Uno by virtue of not being the worst.  If the flute melody at the beginning sounds familiar, that's probably because it is:  The music is nearly identical to Cervello's "Trittico."  I guess this plagiarism is okay if it's your little brother's band, but I'm surprised Corrado Rustici of Cervello would not only endorse this but even join Uno in a live capacity.  The introductory romanticism gives way to soft-prog cheesiness, which can either be viewed as revolting or as a guilty pleasure - choose your own adventure.  "Popular Girl" allows the listener no such variance; it is pure boogie nonsense that tries to recoup at the end and fails miserably.  "I Cani E La Volpe" is much more listenable, but after ten minutes the album already feels like a chore.

The English-sung "Stay With Me" is a lame attempt at commercial success, while "Uomo Come Gli Altari" feels genuine but ends far too soon.  "Uno Nel Tutto" is the longest song on Uno and the one that will most appeal to Osanna fans; the wild, frantic sections are at best interesting and at worst annoying.  The slower part near the end is perhaps the most successful attempt at blending Prog and commercial obligations, and is one I actually enjoy.  "Goodbye Friend" rids farewell to this disappointing effort and borrows liberally from Pink Floyd's "The Great Gig in the Sky."  After under-performing album sales, Uno was dunzo.  The brothers Rustici would then tackle fusion on Nova's 1975 debut Blink.

Claudio Dentes - Pantarei

 UMG's Progressive Italia Gli Anni '70 series has been a great source for affordable, hard-to-find titles such as this rarely-heard-of gem.  Volume 5 includes Pantarei (previously unavailable on CD), Claudio Dentes' lone solo album.  Dentes is a London-born multi-instrumentalist based in Milan who collaborated with Andrea Bianchi, Beppe Sciutto and Franco Cristaldi on this primarily instrumental album. Female singer Rossana Casale adds some sparingly used vocals on the bubbly opener and again at the album's end. Pantarei is a mix of Electronic Progressive, folk elements, and even some classic RPI inspiration. The latter is particularly apparent throughout the single "Rock 'O' Cockey" and its B-side "Camden Town." For being a 1978 release, Pantarei exists in a vacuum and has a timeless, amorphous feel. If it weren't for the late-seventies production standards, one would be completely unaware of its origination.  Pantarei is quickly becoming my one of my favorites from this era, and though it is not a pure RPI release, will definitely appeal to loyalists of the genre.

The ten-minute "Pantarei" suite is broken up into two parts, the first of which is an electronic wonderland full of shimmering synths and bright guitar.  "Parte II" is an angular guitar showcase, with an unexpected chord progression and even more ambient keyboard noises.  "Pantarei" is heavy on the electronics, but the remainder of the album is far more organic; though the brief "Tarantel" layers heavily compressed and distorted electric guitars, "Rav" blends clean tones and volume swells in a natural, relaxing way.  The drum kit finally makes its first appearance during the symphonic "Camden Town," our first real taste of RPI.  "Imago" also incorporates romantic ideas with a smooth fusion delivery.  Fans of Picchio dal Pozzo and even Perigeo will drool over the sultry soprano sax and flawlessly tight rhythm section.  Finally, "Rock 'O' Cockey" is tagged on the end and doesn't really suit the album unfortunately.  Pantarei is still very, very good if somewhat short and inhomogeneous.