Review Summary: It is you. It is me. It is us building a bomb.
This is not just a record. It’s a mirror. It tells the story of l’impiegato, the employee. A clerk, a nobody. But it could be you. It could be me. Forced to swallow *** from dawn till night. A society that doesn’t care what you think. A family that tells you to stay quiet, not dream. A job that reduces you to a cog. And not even an important cog. Religion, instead of offering answers, just mutters words that never touch the void inside you.
So he rebels. He listens to the students of 1968. He feels the pull of revolution. He wants to fight, to finally exist. He builds a bomb. But rebellion done alone collapses. The bomb explodes at the wrong time. Nobody listens. He is caught.
And then comes the nightmare.
“Sogno numero due.” The dream of the trial. The judge speaking with the cold voice of authority:
Imputato,
il dito più lungo della tua mano
è il medio
quello della mia
è l’indice,
eppure anche tu hai giudicato.
Hai assolto e hai condannato
al di sopra di me,
ma al di sopra di me,
per quello che hai fatto,
per come lo hai rinnovato
il potere ti è grato.
Ascolta
una volta un giudice come me
giudicò chi gli aveva dettato la legge:
prima cambiarono il giudice
e subito dopo
la legge.
“Defendant,
the longest finger of your hand
is the middle one.
Mine is the index.
And yet you have judged.
You have acquitted and condemned
above me,
beyond me.
And for what you have done,
for how you have renewed it,
Power is grateful to you.
Listen.
Once a judge like me
judged those who wrote the law.
First they changed the judge,
and right after
the law.”
It is terrifying. The truth of it burns. Justice is not blind. It serves. It obeys. When you rise against it, it will bend the law to protect itself.
The story continues. In “Al ballo mascherato” the rebel sees society as a grotesque carnival. Politicians, generals, priests, parents all dancing with masks. Every face is false, every smile corrupted. Even rebellion can become another mask.
By the end, in “Nella mia ora di libert*,” he realizes his error. Rebellion alone is futile. Real change only comes when voices rise together, when prisoners break their chains as one.
This album is revolutionary because it doesn’t flatter. It is anarchic, psychologically violent. It tells you that your anger is not enough. That society is stronger than your lone scream. That solidarity is the only path.
Musically, Storia di un impiegato is not perfect. The arrangements sometimes sound stuck in the early 70s. The melodies feel dated. But the lyrics carry it far beyond its time. They are what make this album immortal. Decades ahead, more radical than anything else in European music of its day.
It is not an easy listen. It is not meant to be. It is a challenge, a scar, a warning. And fifty years later, it still cuts.
