“At the end of the summer we will not get there” writes a friend in a collective chat in which the desire to start over as if everything had not been exhausted by the heat and the apathy of a season that generates the same anxieties like this year of renewal of the new year: where are you going, what you do, how are you. I reply that it is a good title, good for Franco 126, and instead I am wrong. A few hours after this message, I will hear the perfect song for this feeling of loop and exhausted city. Is called Spano, is by Spano, and the album is also titled like this, in a repetitive minimalism that is well suited to the stunned elegance of the record.
Produced by Love Boat and Liza, it is made up of eight “danceable but not danceable” tracks, of beats and guitars that behave as if they don’t belong to different musical universes, and why should they? Spano is based on the fusion / confusion of sensory planes and impulses that should reach a specific organ and instead affect another. The sounds that have a cerebral temperature do not go to the brain but to the stomach, the most apparently moving and melancholic ones do not end up in the heart but in the head. Not bad for a project based also on the disarticulation of the two people who compose it: the composer Paolo Spaccamonti and the producer Stefano “Fano” Roman also invite us to forget their names. Forgetting is something that happens when you listen Spano, a record so effective that it also imposes itself on a certain idea of summer in the city, leaving room only for an exhausted desire.