“Take my hand Fausto wherever you go / in search of silence and visions”: a incipit anomalous and courageous opens one of the most memorable pages in the history of Italian rock, “L'erba” by Fausto Rossi. Words that may sound self-referential, but which upon closer inspection immediately provide a key to understanding the album, in which “the artist previously known as Faust'o” seems for the first time to want to present himself fully as himself. That Fausto Rossi had a lot to say was clear from his debut album, “Suicide” (1978), for many his masterpiece; but an at times intrusive production, by Alberto Radius, and the attempt to create a character suited to the musical scenes of the time make it less personal and direct, a limitation that will remain in subsequent production, with the exception perhaps of the single album “Faust 'o” (1983): always excellent records, but at times derivative and winking at the styles of the moment (“Poco sugar” and “J'accuse amore mio”), or the result of interesting experiments but which only partially express his potential (“Out now”, “Love story” and “Change things”).
In 1995 Italy was crossed by a rich musical ferment, independent bands sprouted like mushrooms, experiences such as the Consortium of Independent Producers allowed young musicians to publish albums and make tourand among those appearing on the scene for the first time there are also early fans of Fausto, those kids who also grew up listening to his music: Manuel Agnelli and the Afterhours, Fabrizio Tavernelli with Afa, or Massimo Volume who recorded a cover of one of his songs and have a record produced by him. Musically, for the first time Fausto and his era seem to be able to speak the same language, and he is ready to do so.
“L'erba” therefore presents a truer, more direct and authentic Fausto Rossi, in the fullness of his artistic and creative potential, both for music and for words: in both you can feel that the influences and interests have now been elaborated and digested to generate something new and similar to nothing. With a rock formation and style seasoned with various intrusions of ethnic instruments at the right point, dark with rare rays of light, paranoid enough, “L'erba” is an album that is mystical, liturgical, spiritual in its own way, but one to be celebrated it is exclusively earthly life, with the emotions and sensations that only this can give: dreams, love, but also visions and hallucinations. Tools to move away from a reality that oppresses, but also to counteract it, to fully experience the body, which is indeed “unique and mortal” but also “holy”, for what it can give in terms of emotions and perceptions.
This is not a real one concept albumbut the themes recur several times, even with reiterated phrases in the different songs: the sanctity of the grass, of the body, its mortality, the dream/vision/hallucination, love. The pre-eminent textual form is the enumeration: “The grass” tells what is “holy”, not to be understood in the religious sense of the term but for the salvific function they can have: “Holy is the grass that gently opens the heart / holy is the Buddha who raises his eyes to the sky / holy is the money in our veins / holy is our unique and mortal body (…)”. Same formula in “Science, progress, the new nobility” (.. I don't want police on the streets/ yellow and blue sounds day and night/ that recall mental asylums and morgues/ I don't want a job that is solitude/misery and poverty and poisons our life”), and the game is repeated in “Why my love” and “Too many songs”, where the key words of the list are “Why” and “Too much”.
The album opens with the title track in which an almost tribal drumming, immediately joined by the bass, catapults the listener into the middle of the musical vortex. And this is precisely how “L'erba” develops, dragging the listener along a short but of rare intensity textual and sonic journey. The masters are bass (Franco Cristaldi), guitar (Pierluigi Ferrari and Fausto himself) and drums (Ivan Ciccarelli) who support rock songs with a free structure, far from formulas such as verse/chorus/verse. Even the voice appears more sincere and spontaneous than in the past. The electric guitar ranges freely over the hypnotic and tense turns of the rhythm section, but as it flows the album also opens up to more relaxed atmospheres, including blues moments, psychedelic expansions, electronics. Several guests who contribute to the basic lineup of the album are added sarangi, veena, shenai and other ethnic instruments, very well integrated into the sound of the group and never intrusive.
Far from monolithic, “L'Erba” pours years of passion and musical culture of its author into a single album, however it always manages to remain very coherent until the end, a cover of “Close Watch” by John Cale for vocals, guitar and electronics. The sound becomes minimal, the tones more relaxed, as if the lay priest wanted to tell us “mass is over, go in peace”. Perhaps precisely to avoid any doubt, with a very short ghost track, Fausto's voice alone, in English, reiterates to us that he does not believe in the spirit.
Almost 30 years after its release, “L'erba” remains an example of independent rock songwriting perfect for the 90s, which should be remembered and celebrated in its own right as one of the best productions of the era. Strangely, however, Fausto Rossi is cited as a point of reference by many musicians of that season, but he never fully went from a cult object to an object of listening.
Antonio Santini for SANREMO.FM
