You could say timing is everything — but after half a century of iconoclastic music, Eugenio Finardi demands we take that word far more seriously. In May 2025, exactly 50 years after he smuggled irreverence into Italian pop with “Non Gettate Alcun Oggetto Dal Finestrino,” the indefatigable Milanese songwriter comes roaring back. The vehicle: “Everything,” his twentieth album of original material and, he teases (or threatens?), likely the last. For fans and curious onlookers alike, this isn’t just another comeback; it’s a reckoning with artistic legacy, a meditation on being, and a sly wink at the inexhaustible weirdness of the world.
Eugenio Finardi has always been the sort of artist who, metaphorically, not only asks you not to throw objects from the window but also wonders aloud about the view, the glass, the city outside, and the philosophical import of gravity itself. Since that slyly subversive debut in the mid-1970s — when progressive rock mingled with political turmoil like espresso with a twist of lemon — Finardi has hopscotched genres, ideologies, and generations.
His greatest hits can soundtrack both smoky Cellini bars and late-night solitary musings: “Musica Ribelle,” “Extraterrestre,” “Le Ragazze di Osaka,” “La Radio.” Yet Finardi’s real signature has always been his refusal to wax nostalgic. He changes, reinvents, nudges boundaries. “Everything,” then, arrives not as a lap of honor but as another hard left onto an unfamiliar road.
Written and crafted in deep partnership with Giuvazza Maggiore, “Everything” is both laboratory and confession booth. After eleven years without an album of wholly original material (2013’s “Fibrillante” was the last), and three since the meditative “Euphonia Suite,” Finardi sounds energized, bold. It’s his twentieth album of original songs, and he’s earned every right to be audacious.
Every track gnaws at the present — society’s anxieties, the digital haze, and those perennial human aches for meaning, connection, and hope. Classic Finardi: staring down the universe’s unanswerable questions, not with resignation but with a mixture of wit, anguish, and melodic craftsmanship.
The entire album is a dialogue between old and new: acoustic strumming undercut by electronic glitches, tradition smashed lovingly against innovation. For Finardi, who came of age in the collision of prog, folk, and political song, it feels like coming full circle — except the circle is more a spiral, moving ever outward.
Maggiore doesn’t simply update the legendary songwriter’s palette; he helps explode it. Synth lines bubble up beneath plaintive vocal lines; irregular drum patterns catch the listener off guard. There’s humor in the arrangements (sometimes a sly wink, sometimes a full-on guffaw), weaving Finardi’s evocative lyrics into a dense, vibrant tapestry.
“Domani È Un Altro Learn” (Tomorrow’s Another Learn): One of the album’s most pungent commentaries, pairing a De André-like melody with lyrics that dissect the tyranny of self-optimization (“ogni giorno una skill, ogni alba una malia / sempre imparare e mai finire…”) against a skittering drum sequence.
“L’Orologio Rotto”: Here, Finardi’s timeworn baritone floats in a haze of analog synth, as he muses on the futility of measuring life in chronometric terms. At once deeply specific (a broken clock in a Milanese kitchen) and stubbornly universal.
“Neanche una Parola”: A delicate acoustic lullaby giving way to a brief, jagged burst of guitar noise, an ode to the immense freedom and terror of silence.
Throughout the album, the choice of arrangement mirrors the lyrics' themes: confusion and beauty, hope under siege, joy breaking through anxiety’s clouds.
Retirement in Italian music can be… elastic. But even if Finardi never releases another original note, “Everything” is both a summation and a provocation. It recapitulates half a century, but in a funhouse mirror, inviting listeners to reconsider, relisten, reinterpret — and perhaps, renew some part of themselves.
If Finardi’s catalogue teaches anything, it’s that the past is never finished; it’s a toolbox for exploring new territory. Don’t expect a merely backward-looking affair: the “All 75/25” project is as much about continuing to live as it is about commemorating a life lived.
“Everything,” in context, is less final chapter than footnote to infinity; a reminder that art grows with the questions you bring to it, not the answers it hands down. If it proves to be a coda, it’s a most unorthodox one.
He’s never traded in easy iconography. If you come looking for the comfort of “the legend,” you’ll also get disruption, critique, and, occasionally, cosmic slapstick. “Everything” is proof that the business of being an artist is never really finished; it’s play, work, alchemy — and above all, conversation.
For now, audiences can treasure a body of work unrivaled in Italian rock — an oeuvre concerned less with what was and more with what might be. Finardi’s voice, gravelly and rich, stands as one of Europe’s unlikeliest beacons of creative possibility.
In a world happy to package the past into bite-sized nostalgia, Eugenio Finardi leaps into the future, poised and ready — not to have the last word, but to ask the next question. And after 50 years, that’s a gift as irreplaceable as it is unpredictable.
Source: Ruetir Eugenio Finardi: the new album “Everything” comes out on 9 May
50 Years at the Window
Eugenio Finardi has always been the sort of artist who, metaphorically, not only asks you not to throw objects from the window but also wonders aloud about the view, the glass, the city outside, and the philosophical import of gravity itself. Since that slyly subversive debut in the mid-1970s — when progressive rock mingled with political turmoil like espresso with a twist of lemon — Finardi has hopscotched genres, ideologies, and generations.His greatest hits can soundtrack both smoky Cellini bars and late-night solitary musings: “Musica Ribelle,” “Extraterrestre,” “Le Ragazze di Osaka,” “La Radio.” Yet Finardi’s real signature has always been his refusal to wax nostalgic. He changes, reinvents, nudges boundaries. “Everything,” then, arrives not as a lap of honor but as another hard left onto an unfamiliar road.
The Album Named, Well, Everything
It’s tempting to roll eyes at album titles that claim the universe: “Everything” — really? But Finardi’s sense of irony means he’s in on the cosmic joke. He isn’t claiming omniscience; he’s plumbing the existential swirl, inviting everyone for a peek into the spiraling complexity that is — forgive the pun — everything.Written and crafted in deep partnership with Giuvazza Maggiore, “Everything” is both laboratory and confession booth. After eleven years without an album of wholly original material (2013’s “Fibrillante” was the last), and three since the meditative “Euphonia Suite,” Finardi sounds energized, bold. It’s his twentieth album of original songs, and he’s earned every right to be audacious.
An Album as a Question Mark
What does “Everything” sound like? Not just a monument to legacy, but a living, twitching entity. Across eleven tracks, Finardi and Maggiore fuse songwriter intimacy with bright, sometimes bracing experimentation. There are organic sounds layered with electronic sampling; song structures that refuse to settle; grooves that dissolve into reveries and then snap back with sly rhythmic tricks. The musical timelines shimmer and buckle. Techniques for lyrics and music appear inspired as much by contemporary pop’s playful edge as by the literate candor that always marked Finardi’s writing.Every track gnaws at the present — society’s anxieties, the digital haze, and those perennial human aches for meaning, connection, and hope. Classic Finardi: staring down the universe’s unanswerable questions, not with resignation but with a mixture of wit, anguish, and melodic craftsmanship.
From Protest to Exploration
Fans expecting a straightforward walk down memory lane might be taken aback. Yes, there are echoes of the polemical, “musica ribelle” Finardi of the 1970s and 80s. But “Everything” is just as interested in sonic and thematic ambiguity. The opening track, “Respiro,” floats on a bed of organic instruments and ghostly samples, lyrics probing the gig-economy's soul-sapping grind. Midway, “Antimateria” pairs playful rhythm with an almost philosophical giddiness over the boundaries of science and existence.The entire album is a dialogue between old and new: acoustic strumming undercut by electronic glitches, tradition smashed lovingly against innovation. For Finardi, who came of age in the collision of prog, folk, and political song, it feels like coming full circle — except the circle is more a spiral, moving ever outward.
Giuvazza Maggiore: The Co-Conspirator
If “Everything” feels both unmistakably Finardi and somehow futuristic, much credit goes to Giuvazza Maggiore. A guitarist, producer, and musical polymath, Maggiore is less a foil and more an accomplice. Where some veterans flinch from collaboration, Finardi has always sought chemistry with the young and audacious — perhaps because he remains perpetually both at heart.Maggiore doesn’t simply update the legendary songwriter’s palette; he helps explode it. Synth lines bubble up beneath plaintive vocal lines; irregular drum patterns catch the listener off guard. There’s humor in the arrangements (sometimes a sly wink, sometimes a full-on guffaw), weaving Finardi’s evocative lyrics into a dense, vibrant tapestry.
The Anatomy of “Everything”
Let’s talk highlights. At risk of handpicking favorites — there’s something here for the insurgent and the introspective alike.“Domani È Un Altro Learn” (Tomorrow’s Another Learn): One of the album’s most pungent commentaries, pairing a De André-like melody with lyrics that dissect the tyranny of self-optimization (“ogni giorno una skill, ogni alba una malia / sempre imparare e mai finire…”) against a skittering drum sequence.
“L’Orologio Rotto”: Here, Finardi’s timeworn baritone floats in a haze of analog synth, as he muses on the futility of measuring life in chronometric terms. At once deeply specific (a broken clock in a Milanese kitchen) and stubbornly universal.
“Neanche una Parola”: A delicate acoustic lullaby giving way to a brief, jagged burst of guitar noise, an ode to the immense freedom and terror of silence.
Throughout the album, the choice of arrangement mirrors the lyrics' themes: confusion and beauty, hope under siege, joy breaking through anxiety’s clouds.
Not a Swan Song, But Something Stranger
Finardi’s press, with characteristic mischief, suggests “Everything” may be his last album of original songs. Given his restless energy, one bristles at the thought. But there’s a deep intelligence in the gesture: if an artist is to sign off, let it be after a statement that refuses to sum up, that instead multiplies meanings.Retirement in Italian music can be… elastic. But even if Finardi never releases another original note, “Everything” is both a summation and a provocation. It recapitulates half a century, but in a funhouse mirror, inviting listeners to reconsider, relisten, reinterpret — and perhaps, renew some part of themselves.
A Tour Without Nostalgia
With the digital release on May 9 and CD/vinyl following on May 16, “Everything” arrives smack in the midst of 2025’s busy musical calendar. But Finardi’s rollout isn’t a greatest-hits barnstorm: he kicks off the “All 75/25” tour with a zero date at the Astoria Theater in Fiorano Modenese on May 16, produced by Imarts International Music and Arts. Expect a sprawling setlist — not just museum pieces dusted off, but historical anthems in conversation with the new album. It’s a concert series less about nostalgia and more about dialogue: between past and present, the artist and his audience, twenty-somethings and seventy-somethings.If Finardi’s catalogue teaches anything, it’s that the past is never finished; it’s a toolbox for exploring new territory. Don’t expect a merely backward-looking affair: the “All 75/25” project is as much about continuing to live as it is about commemorating a life lived.
Endings, Beginnings, Infinity
So, does “Everything” deliver on the capacious promise of its title? If you’re seeking easy answers, you’re in for disappointment — but then, Finardi has never been about comfort. His singing remains clear-eyed and a little weary, never sentimental, always searching. The record’s production is daring without being self-indulgent, at home in both the analog and the digital, both late-night introspection and festival-size choruses.“Everything,” in context, is less final chapter than footnote to infinity; a reminder that art grows with the questions you bring to it, not the answers it hands down. If it proves to be a coda, it’s a most unorthodox one.
Legacy: Not a Museum, but a Workshop
What remains after 50 years of musical rebellion and reinvention? For Finardi, legacy is not a static thing — it’s a project, a risk, and an invitation. In reframing his catalogue as unfinished business, he places the onus back on the listener: to follow the curve of his creative curiosity, to refuse easy closure.He’s never traded in easy iconography. If you come looking for the comfort of “the legend,” you’ll also get disruption, critique, and, occasionally, cosmic slapstick. “Everything” is proof that the business of being an artist is never really finished; it’s play, work, alchemy — and above all, conversation.
What’s Next After Everything?
If there’s one thing that “Everything” makes clear, it’s that Finardi’s journey is a case study in embracing the unknown. Whether he slips away into private creativity, takes up writing, or shocks us with album twenty-one, his insistence is that there’s always more to question, more ground to break, more uncomfortable truths to shine a light on.For now, audiences can treasure a body of work unrivaled in Italian rock — an oeuvre concerned less with what was and more with what might be. Finardi’s voice, gravelly and rich, stands as one of Europe’s unlikeliest beacons of creative possibility.
The Risk of Saying Everything
To dare to call an album “Everything” — especially after a half-century of bending genres, expectations, and history to your will — is either mad hubris or the ultimate humility. If the album is Finardi’s coda, it couldn’t be more fitting: a record that is open, restless, slyly funny, and haunted by the present moment.In a world happy to package the past into bite-sized nostalgia, Eugenio Finardi leaps into the future, poised and ready — not to have the last word, but to ask the next question. And after 50 years, that’s a gift as irreplaceable as it is unpredictable.
Source: Ruetir Eugenio Finardi: the new album “Everything” comes out on 9 May
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