Magmamemoria is a portmanteau formed by the two words magma and memory: in her fourth studio album the Italian singer songwriter Levante throws her heart far beyond conforting facades, exploring human detritus and glorifying feminine strength.
Embedded in strings-orientated lamentations, flowing through scorching scars and remarkable disillusions, this brand new chapter coming from the Icon who debuted with the unforgettable refrain What a shitty life, in Alfonso, is labeled Warner music and It’s by far the most mature record She ever made.
The fierce red of the cover is reflected in the opener Magmamoria, in which a virtuoso strings ensemble keeps the guitar delicacy up to speed in a ballad that personifies that scarlet, flowing lava coming out of her heart through the unrestrainable volcano of her feelings (something that will come back in the same formula in the track Antonio). In her kingdom of balladry, that’s one of the most strapping, muscular and heart-stopping.
Her concerns move beyond staggering lyrics, where Levante reveals her best quality: being a brilliant performer, but foremost She belongs to narrative multiverses, the space in which she can envelope her writing talent to endless possibilities with gusto.
The lead single Andrà tutto bene is perfect food for thought as it goes on as a j’accuse against global warming, Italian unfairness, yet promising us that everything will be sorted out, probably more as a gut reaction than a proper positive mantra.
Bravi tutti voi is the antiphrastic ode to all the ‘jack-of-all trades and master-of-none’ haters who usually inhabit the internet claiming that every truth must be delivered by them, because they clearly own it. And the horse’s mouth is always theirs.
Levante yells, howls, cracks without even considering pushing her disquiet back: She doesn’t have to rack her brain too hard, her lyrics are incandescent and brilliantly on point.
And in Regno animale she retreats deeper into her notes: I’m like an island with a bridge crossing all the rest. She blows her bitterness back to all the unpleasant situations that were foisted upon her. She dauntlessly shows her nostalgia-driven innermost core: her manifesto on how a relationship should be carried out.
It takes some training In order to be happy in two, there is no refreshed course for loving, no special license to love either, She sings.
Reali puts the listener in the picture, finally letting the cat out of the bag: Her verses are ceaseless, her peed-off voice travels through her breakup. It always seems like I’m asking you for miracles, You no longer knows the symptoms of love . And the more she spills the beans the closer we get to her pulsing heart and to the Jugular vein distention
The following Questa è l’ultima volta che ti dimentico and Se non ti vedo non esisti glean from the respective books plot and she runs the gauntlet to overcome their beauty, generously coming out of it with pride an totally unsatched.
Il giorno prima del giorno dell’inizio non ha mai avuto fine, besides being the longest title in the history of italian music, is a ruthlessly sincere memoir. Her hoarseness is pushed onwards to stress her love disenchantment: What shall I do with your memory? I clean my ass with it. She doesn’t put her anger on the back on her burner: in Saturno she growls with all her temper. I killed you for real, I was so out of myself
And in Rancore She cries out against her ex’s supine responses : You remind me that grudge is always useless, but It tell you that It’s useful to tell the difference between love and noise, the heart from a jerk, from thousands of words.
in Lo stretto necessario she teams up with the fellow countrywoman Carmen Consoli in a delightful poem dedicated to the region they both come from: Sicily. But She doesn’t take a back seat alongside her evaluation of pain: Arcano 13 is poignant, deadly brutal in an overflow of feelings investigating what is humanly left when happiness is long gone.
The answer, after this trip in the innermost parts, is a silence charged with respect for a record that is the icing on the cake of a heart-spinning career every italian person should be proud of.