Few pop artists can blend international sounds and Italian lyrics as Annalisa does. At a time when Sanremo is broadcast worldwide and Italian music (not just the classics from the ’60s) is enjoying renewed global interest, I could describe her as “the one from Sinceramente.”That song sits halfway between an empowerment anthem and an irresistible earworm, a sticky chorus disguised as an easy pop tune, but vocally it’s a real tour de force. Annalisa delivered it with flawless control for four nights on Italy’s most-watched stage.
In October, Annalisa returned with a new album, Ma io sono fuoco (“But I Am Fire”), introduced by the summer single Maschio, a bold mix of synth-pop and Raffaella Carrà-style flair.
If Maschio hinted at the album’s overall tone, it only scratched the surface of its depth. Ma io sono fuoco tells the story of a woman rediscovering her strength and reinventing herself after a toxic relationship that deceived and confined her. Rather than simply pointing fingers (except perhaps in Maschio and Esibizionista), the album explores what the artist feels. Real empowerment here lies in the act of speaking and singing openly. Yes, there’s someone on the other side who clearly has things to answer for, but that’s not really the point.
In Delusa, the relationship isn’t with a man but with something more abstract, perhaps showbusiness itself, which left her feeling “robbed and desperate,” until she decides it’s “better to be hated but sincere” (any reference to the most recent Sanremo Festival is purely coincidental). It’s a sharp and unapologetic track that defends the right to self-expression in an age where everyone has an opinion and the means to amplify it, but not necessarily to explore the nuances of certain feelings.
Annalisa described this record as more “played”, and it’s easy to hear why: guitars are generally way more present, and dominate not only on Delusa but also Dipende and the softer Piazza San Marco, a delicate ballad shared with Marco Mengoni.
In Chiodi, she sings with disarming honesty about a love that’s already “a disaster waiting to happen,” where attraction wins over reason. The 1980s influences (from synths to guitars) are more finely tuned here, and the lyrics carry that playful boldness reminiscent of Italian music divas from the ’70s, like Mina, Ornella Vanoni, or Patty Pravo.
The album closes on a nostalgic and introspective note. Amica tells of a relationship that’s technically over but refuses to end: she’s disheartened, he’s texting other people, and she feels diminished. If Taylor Swift were Italian, this song could easily be part of her discography (and if you’ve read this blog before, you know that’s high praise coming from a Swiftie).
Finally, Una tigre continua a parlarmi, inspired by a poem by Jorge Luis Borges, mirrors the elegant cover art. Here Annalisa experiments with her voice, layering effects and falsettos reminiscent of Annie Lennox. The result is a dreamlike piece, a closing track that feels more like a new beginning.
Songs for the Time Capsule:
Amica / Una tigre continua a parlarmi
Ma io sono fuoco is the perfect reflection of today’s Annalisa: elegant yet bold, pop but never superficial. It burns slowly, but it leaves a mark.
