IN OGNI LUOGO

I was fortunate to follow Finisterre's career since day one, enchanted by their 1995 debut and have hopped on board ever since , even venturing into the various Fabio Zuffanti-led offshoots like La Maschera di Cera, Zaal, Höstsonaten, Aries, La Zona etc?. It's almost always a most pleasant adventure, full of luxuriant melodies and fantastic musicianship, allied with some inventive creativity. "In Ogni Luogo" the lads have chosen a more contemporary tone that surfaces more often than not as the basic principles of RPI are always religiously adhered to. "Tempi Moderni" reflects on these past glories with a gorgeous Camel-like melody, fiddled with Stefano Marelli's magic guitar leading the way. "Snàporaz" abounds in assorted modern colorations (sound effects with Italian dialogue) and a scorching beat fueled by Zuffanti's growling bass, while the guitar waddles in muddier thrashings, occasionally breaking out in some tense leads, all so exceedingly charming and contrast-laden. "Ninive" has that historical leaning that characterized their debut by travelling back, way back into time and addressing the Assyrian capital's reflective power. A sublime "roll down the carpet" entrance morphs into a forceful Marelli workout, the Andrea Orlando drums keeping it nice and tight and some superlative keyboard tapestries from Boris Valle. This is good, ragazzi! The equally brief title track seduces tenderly with a husky female guest voice, very "Girl from Ipanema" cool that whispers voluptuously, some elegant violin fills in the breaches with some romantic lines and the synths ply their trade symphonically. The colossal 7 minute+ "Coro Eletrico" rages from the onset, a whipper- snapper track with more violin (though way more frenetic), a true romp in the sense of the word, bruising and inexorable featuring a stupendous guitar solo slipping on a mellotron choir slide, some wah-wah tossed in for a little sizzle. The mid-section collapses into a somber affair giving the rhythm section a new groove of raw impetus to play with, hypnotic and yet merciless, escorted by some savvy synthesized bubbles until the Arabic horn caters to the ripping violin, giving this a refined Middle Eastern feel full of quarter tones , masterful slice of RPI. The medieval tones of the achingly beautiful "La Citta Indicibili" has a early hint of Zep's Stairway to Heaven, acoustic guitar in cahoots with violin and each taking their pastoral shot at proggy bliss. Another stamp of approval here, as they show clearly their gilded heritage. The raunch level is raised notably on the next track, "Agli Amici Sinesticiti" the guitar getting murkier and raging in barely restrained frustration, very poignant and European, a melancholic jaunt into storied classicism with a truly whopping guitar spot where Marelli really shows off his substantial chops with numerous solos , each one more effective than the other. The choir mellotron adds the obvious grandeur deliciously. The longest track has a long name too, so I won't bother. The agonizing lady vocal returns to the fray, in that same oozing-weeping jazz style, the sax dancing with the vixen, embracing her and the guitar suggesting some torrid thrashing in the bedroom (hey, they are Italians, okay?). Electric piano (one of my fave instruments) pooling droplets with the sultry saxophone, tick-tock-shuffle drum beat, and that tired female sexy voice, hmmmmm! This is original stuff, very daring and dreadfully creative, kind of hard to describe. A wah- drenched axe goodbye has the head shaking anew, man can he play smart. "Peter's House" is more straightforward a pounding little ditty that encapsulates all the prime qualities that the four musicians wish to demonstrate, a bleeding Marelli solo on that mellotron carpet is hard to resist, biting ravenously into submission (which is what a solo is supposed to do!). "Wittgenstein mon Amour" is a stellar finale, the clarinet doing its romantic best to elevate the breezy mood, a whimsical prog lullaby. Fantastic album not a weak track here, so I cannot see why it doesn't get the penta spurs. Sorry , Johnny! So there it Is = 5 Barolos