IO NON SO DA DOVE VENGO E NON SO DOVE MAI ANDRÒ, UOMO È IL NOME CHE MI HAN DATO

Do a Google search for De De Lind, and your result is likely not safe for work - the band shares its name with a Playboy model of the 1960s. What the two have in common however is timeless beauty and deceptive innocence. De De Lind (the band) released Io Non So Da Dove Vengo e Non So Dove Mai Andrò, Uomo è il Nome Che Mi Han Dato (yes, that is the full title) in 1972 on the Mercury label. Grossly underrated, overlooked and forgotten describe this masterpiece of Italian Prog; it is one that does take some time to fully appreciate, but rewards the patient listener with an emotional payoff nearly unrivaled during the early period of '71-'72. Biglietto per L'Inferno would achieve a similar feat two years later with their debut, but as heavy prog goes nothing else comes close to De De Lind in my opinion. Only Museo Rosenbach approach anything this touching and honest, but even Zarathustra fails on a personal, human level where this album succeeds. Io Non So Da Dove Vengo...is absolutely essential for anyone seriously interested in Progressive Rock.

"Fuga e Morte" begins what is essentially one long suite; although the songs are segmented and sequenced in seven sections, the album plays like one long song. But unlike Thick As A Brick, Io Non So Da Dove Vengo uses repetition as a tool rather than out of necessity. Each part is autonomous and strong enough to stand on its own, yet functions as part of a greater whole. Key elements appear and reappear throughout the program, the first of which comes about ten minutes into the album. "Indietro Nel Tempo" continues where "Fuga e Morte" leaves off, perfectly balancing heavy riffs with folk-inspired brevity, and neither fights for attention. The three-chord progression established in "Indietro Nel Tempo" will coalesce much later, giving the album a unified feeling. Another pivotal moment comes at the beginning of "Paura Del Niente." Singer Vito Paradiso serenely offers his vocal, while acoustic guitar, plucked piano and flute provide the necessary support. Before careening into an extended crescendo, this brief two-minute respite allows the listener just enough time to reflect on what just happened. Before you know it, the first side is over.

The lengthy "Smarrimento" starts off with some Tull-ish flute, but this is really the only venture into Ian Anderson territory. Flautist Gilberto Trama has a style more akin to Peter Gabriel, with his shaky vibrato and timid delivery. This works in the music's favor however, as the flute plays more of a support role and doesn't assert itself (Trama uses sax similarly). After an extended into, Vito Paradiso appears and delivers a thought-provoking vocal. You could complain about the lyrical content and attempt to explain what it all means...to do so does the music a disservice I think. But if I had to analyze the concept, I would say it's not about death or the afterlife at all. This is an album about life. The title alone sums up everything you need to know: I don't know where I've been, and I don't know where I'm going, Man is the name that has been given me. And so, in this context the reflective "Cimitero di Guerra" may not be the Man viewing his own grave in remorse, but the gift of his life in retrospect. It's just a thought. Your mileage may vary.

The transitional "Voglia di Revivere" sets up an exciting and flawless finish to the album, which again restates earlier motifs much like a postscript. The finale "E Poi" offers some new ideas, as well as the enigmatic title of the album in poetic form, and the lyric does not repeat. I believe this lack of repetition was fully intentional, and while the album could have gone on longer, it's perfect exactly like it is and needs nothing further. Io Non So Da Dove Vengo may not be immediately gratifying and may even seem average at first. But De De Lind deserve more credit than that, and this album deserves to be heard.