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Almamegretta — Imaginaria (2001)
1. Imaginaria ('ossaccio 'o ssaje)
2. Catene
3. Fa' ammore cu' mme
4. Mergellina 70
5. Crazy days & crazy nights
6. N'ata vota
7. Caña
8. Rubayyat
9. 'eguagliune d''o sole
10. Imaginaria #2
11. Pa' Chango
12. Rubb da dubb
Review
by George De StefanoNapoli is "one of those strange cities, ancient and modern at the same time," observed Raiss, the lead singer and portavoce of Almamegretta, in a June 2001 interview. "You hear very old music, and at the same time you go to the discotheque. I know kids who go dancing at the disco in the evening...and the day after they're walking barefoot for 50 kilometers in the procession of the Madonna of Arco."
"Napoli is the city of contradictions," he added. "We feel this. In us these things manage to live together because we feel them and not because it's an artificial decision."
Ancient sounds and the most contemporary grooves, melded in a distinctly Neapolitan synthesis: that in a nutshell is Imaginaria, the fifth full-length CD by Almamegretta since their 1993 debut, Animamigrante. Raiss' claim that the mix works because it is rooted in their lived experience as Neapolitan artists is no idle boast. It's the band's most assured and consistent work yet — it even may be the masterpiece their admirers always knew they had in them.
Unlike on their previous album, the disappointing 4/4, where the imported ingredients obscured the band's distinctiveness, resulting in a trendy eclecticism that screamed "Crossover move!", this time the contaminazioni are thoroughly integrated. All the elements found on their previous work — dub atmospherics and reggae rhythms, North African sonorities and beats, rap, funk, and blues — cohere like never before. Imaginaria also makes a happy marriage of Almamegretta's Neapolitan roots and their more "underground" leanings: the deep dub grooves and the vein of psychedelia that run prominently through Imaginaria are anchored to the tunefulness of la canzone napoletana. In fact, it's not hard to imagine some of these numbers being performed by such stalwarts as Roberto Murolo, La Nuova Compagnia di Canto Popolare, or Roberto De Simone, albeit with very different instrumentation and arrangements.
Imaginaria renders moot the argument over whether digital music can ever have the same warmth and human touch as music played on "real" instruments. Almamegretta have become geniuses at what I'll call electronica calda. The band's sound exudes a rare warmth in part because the synths and other electronic hardware share aural space with guitars, drums and Afro-Cuban percussion, piano and flute. But Almamegretta know how to make those machines sing. Whether the mood is ethereal, ominous, or futuristic, the shimmering beauty of the digitalized soundcapes is one of the great pleasures of Imaginaria. Almamegretta may have been inspired by the British band Massive Attack, but in their sophisticated use of electronics they've surpassed their mentors and sometime collaborators.
And what the Bristol boys definitely don't have is a singer as compelling as Raiss. Almamegretta's frontman has always been a strong, fervent vocalist, but his technique has matured to the point where it fully contains and supports the emotion. His singing is thoroughly Neapolitan at its core, but, like the band's sound, it smoothly assimilates foreign influences, mostly from Jamaica and America. He's the gruff-voiced raggamuffin DJ exhorting dancers to "mash up to this/step up to this," on "Rubb da Dubb," mixing up Jamaica and Napoli patois, often in the same line. His falsetto on "Mergellina" evokes the Marvin Gaye of "Got to Give it Up." He's downright enthralling on "Rubayyat," rising to an emotional crescendo that peaks with the wonderfully mysterious cry of "Haschishin!" And when it comes to singing the blues, Raiss has got it down better than any non-English-speaking Euro vocalist I've heard, even Pino Daniele — check out "Crazy days & crazy nights" and "Caña."
Who knows what Roland Barthes would've thought of Raiss, but my guess is that he would've appreciated his "grain" — the quality the French culture critic defined as the bodily dimension of a human voice that gives it its individuality. The more "grain" in the voice the more the listener feels the singer's physical presence. Raiss may not be an original stylist — his local roots and his imported influences are too evident — but he is an individual one. You won't confuse that voice with anyone else.
Reggae and dub have been fundamental to Almamegretta since their earliest recordings, and they've learned their lessons well, particularly from Augustus Pablo. The band dedicated 4/4 to the late dubmaster, but Imaginaria is a much more fitting tribute. "Fa' ammore cu' mme," one of the album's strongest tracks, would've fit well on the dub-drenched Sanacore, but the band's learned a few new tricks since 1995. Some tracks that aren't dub or reggae per se nonetheless are built on Jamaican drum rhythms and bass lines, e.g., "Crazy days & crazy nights" and "N'ata vota." Gennaro Tesone has mastered the "one-drop" riddim as have few non-Jamaican drummers, and he provides a tough but supple foundation for every track.
Jamaica often provides the band's rhythmic compass, but other island beats make their appearance on Imaginaria. I confess to some initial dismay when I saw "Pa' Chango" listed on the CD: oh no, yet another bunch of hipsters decides to jump on the Cuban bandwagon, I thought. But their take on Cuba is indeed theirs, not some partenopean copycat Buena Vista Social Club or Los Munequitos de Matanzas. The track opens with two minutes of Lukumi chanting by percussionist Ernestico, accompanying himself on batá drum. But what he and the band are after here isn't "authenticity" — electronic pings, whirs, and blips circle around his oración, while on another channel someone's reciting sotto voce in Neapolitan. And then, for the remaining nine minutes, "Pa' Chango" travels from the Afro-Cuban bembe to the disco, with its pounding, unsyncopated beats, to the streets of Napoli, where Raiss, sounding like a street vendor, delivers a full-throated chant.
The hybridity that is Almamegretta's calling card also extends to language. Though most of the lyrics are written in the flavorsome Neapolitan dialect, on several tracks the band's primary idiom alternates with Spanish or English. "Rubb da Dubb," comes up with a new Napoli-Kingston argot ("nuje simmo dubb specialist"). On the driving "'E' guagliune d''o sole," the verses are in Neapolitan, the chorus in English; "Crazy days & crazy nights" is entirely in inglese. The band's command of English is, however, a little shaky, e.g., "keep throwing rocks to the power that be," "coming down in a cloud of beauty to take possess of me." Ragazzi, you could use an English-speaking copy editor, and I hereby volunteer for the gig.
Imaginaria, besides being Almamegretta's best work to date, represents contemporary Italian music at its most inventive, borrowing from other cultures yet avoiding the dread eclecticism/exoticism that infects much so-called world music. This musica migrante travels far and wide, but it knows exactly where it wants to go and how to get to its various destinations. And unlike my experience of 4/4 and its predecessor, Lingo, at no point did I want to hop off the ride.
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