Daniele Luppi & Parquet Courts – MILANO

It’s easy to fetishise our own past, to look back at our formative years with rose-tinted specs and near-total tunnel vision. What’s harder is to acknowledge that life existed outside our idyllic little bubble, and that for a lot of people it sucked. What makes MILANO a success, and more than just a vanity project for Italian composer Daniele Luppi, is that the fond memories of his teenage years spent in 1980s Milan are countered by astute observations about the heroin-fuelled subculture rising against the tide of gentrification at the time.

And who better to give voice to the dissenting youth than Parquet Courts and Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Karen O? Andrew Savage’s sardonic drawl and O’s exaggerated intonation are perfect vessels to inhabit Luppi’s tales of Milan’s cracked adolescents. The characters they portray lurch between mania and ennui with the jolt of a mood swing. 'With me and you, the pleasure is all yours,' O blasts on The Golden Ones, her words dripping with attitude and self-satisfaction, while on Memphis Blues Again Savage laments that 'modernism’s a chore' and 'school makes me snore.'

The dichotomy of the Milan Luppi grew up in is fully exposed in MILANO’s two opening tracks. In Soul and Cigarette, a veneer of delicate percussion adorns wistful guitar melodies and sombre lyrics that pay tribute to Italian poet Alda Merini, institutionalised for mental illness for over a decade. 'Tasting poison and flesh / Dragged back from death, by the calm of a breath,' Savage sings languidly, evoking the dusk and melancholy of Merini’s poetry as well as the downtrodden youth of Italy.

Talisa, on the other hand, is loud and vibrant, a raucous introduction to the charismatic elites of Luppi’s Milan. Named for Talisa Soto, model and friend of Gianni Versace, it’s the antithesis of Soul and Cigarette, trading contemplation for spontaneity and an urgent rhythm. Karen O pays tribute to Soto with all the flair and theatricality she deserves, spitting lines like 'It’s how you toss your hair / It’s how you wear your pout' with adoring, almost obsessive, zeal.

MILANO recalls all the passion and charm Daniele Luppi remembers from mid 80s Milan, but also the frustration and dissatisfaction of its youth. To call it a love letter would be disingenuous; it’s a tender and sharp meditation on a city at war with itself, delivered with pitch-perfect cadence by Parquet Courts and Karen O. Less cinematic than Luppi’s previous work in scope and style, MILANO is an intimate collection of snapshots about life in a certain place at a certain time. It’s insightful, invigorating, and honest.