Picchio dal Pozzo was a very unusual Italian 70s outfit named for a piece of artwork made by a bandmember, depicting a "Woodpecker from the Well". I chose their self-titled album for review on this blog due to its unique take on progressive rock music. For the most part, the influences behind Picchio dal Pozzo can be traced to the Canterbury Scene, a mostly British phenomenon; and yet there is a distinct Continental European flavor that you would not encounter on, say, a Hatfield and the North or Henry Cow album.
The music is grounded in polyphonic beauty, mostly realized with horn and flute melodies and harmonies, with jazz chords and rhythms underneath. Very often, though, disturbing movements of dark ostinato passages, strange voices and sounds panning left and right, and sudden shifts in mood never let you relax for long. Some moments may make you uncomfortable in a way that even Henry Cow never would, but in the final analysis, its musicality, even in the more difficult bits, is likely to win over most fans of progressive rock. Its unique flavor is emblematic not only of the Canterbury prog movement at its peak, but also of the specific magic that Italian bands in the mid to late 70s seemed to have at their disposal.
I discovered this band during the 1990s when I reviewed for the Exposé newsletter, but Picchio dal Pozzo has risen in my ranks more recently. It's a quietly eccentric album that is rarely considered among "the greats", but which is rated extremely high by a small group of serious music fans who recognize and understand its hidden brilliance.
Dan:
Without Steve, I doubt that I would ever have learned about Picchio dal Pozzo. Coming to it fresh, it sounds like nothing I'm familiar with, but it's clearly a carefully designed and executed project. The key to enjoying what one hears is to suspend expectations and just go for the ride. The shocks are not ugly ones, and the beautiful passages are introduced at just the right moments. The sounds of the electric piano, flute, vibraphone, and percussion during the quieter passages are lovely - a great recording from an era not especially known for its sonic excellence.
One track in particular appears to me to deploy most of the band's various resources. "Seppia" employs grungy ostinato for a while, then moves into more idyllic themes where flutes and vibes offer relief, followed by bits and pieces of vocal discussions spoken/sung in Italian (I guess). It's the longest piece but not the only one to be splintered into multiple parts. This postmodern modus operandi is evident throughout the album's approximately 40-minute length.
Since my discovery is so recent, I can report my initial impressions. On first listen, there was a bit of discomfort but as the album progressed, it grew on me quickly. By the second time through, it won me over big time. On some new music, there is no second time, but Picchio dal Pozzo rewards repeated listening. The discomfort vanishes as I enjoy the ride that ends most delightfully.
A winner and a great discovery. Picchio rules!
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