Volume 8 is a pivotal album in Fabrizio De André's discography. The darkest and most enigmatic record of his career, it is also one of his greatest works -- if not the very best one. By the mid-'70s, De André's life had been spiraling down for a while in a mist of alcoholism, depression, divorce, and writer's block. At any rate, he was still discerning enough to perceive greatness in emerging Roman songwriter Francesco De Gregori, and to invite him over for a month or so in the spring of 1973. Together, De André and De Gregori wrote most of the material that would eventually make up Volume 8. Although De André had been hinting at a new, more elusive direction for his writing (as early as in the 1970s hit single Il Pescatore, that would not sound out of place here), this is the album that ostensibly -- and defiantly -- confirmed a new frame of reference. If De André's first period was born under the sign of 19th century European literature, now he seemed to switch allegiance to Surrealist poetry, filtered through the contemporary eye of songwriters like Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. After a decade of story-songs, character-songs, and concept albums, De André deliberately discards any narrative concerns, and instead lets his nightmares and wit run rampant. In the process, he finds a new language and imagery that would prove to be as powerful as the fairytale settings of his early songs, but definitely sound more modern. In Volume 8, De André no longer sounds like a medieval troubadour magically transplanted into our times, but just like a late 20th century songwriter, and one of avant-garde tendencies, to boot.

1		La Cattiva Strada
2		Oceano
3		Nancy
4		Le Storie Di Ieri
5		Giugno '73
6		Dolce Luna
7		Canzone per l'estate
8		Amico Fragile