“Some Like It Hot”…and Heavy, and oh so Bar Italia!
Design by Sofia Giarrusso
By Sofia Giarrusso
Intelligent idiocracy and indecent irony are back with Some Like It Hot. And I’m not talking Marilyn Monroe.
British three-piece band Bar Italia has yet again stretched the limits of their sonic potential. From head-banging to lo-fi swinging, Some Like It Hot explores the fourth dimension of whatever rock-adjacent space they’re floating about. Coming off the tails of 2023’s moody Tracey Denim and exploratory The Twits, Bar Italia has seen a modest appeal among the youf (that’s youth, in British). It’s brash music for an unsettled generation. They don’t take anything quite seriously, despite the battling guitars declaring otherwise. All the while, they preserve a lick of pretension that’s necessary for art’s sake. You know, allure and mystique that’ll keep the bank’s lights on.
Nina Cristante, Sam Fenton, and Jezmi Fehmi are the trio of 30-something, multi-hypenates that are (cue the neon sign): Bar Italia! A COVID-era success story that’s pumped out, now, five full-length projects. They share vocal duties on essentially every song, a trait that heightens their singularity as an entity. On the doo-wappy “Marble Arch,” Cristante and Fenton simultaneously layer the chorus. It’s neither beautiful nor a feat of harmonization, rather earnest. But that’s the crux of it: Bar Italia isn’t composed of vocalists per se; instead, it’s musicians whose tonal oddities pave tracks’ fingerprints.
Four singles preceded the October 17 release, with “Fundraiser” kick-starting Some Like It Hot. It’s an everything-track that satiates Bar Italia’s ethos. Fehmi wails to introduce a mid-song switch-up, handing it off to Cristante, whose naivete stings just enough to bleed into the following chorus. Structural play saturates the upbeat anthems of the project, like on fellow single “Cowbella” and “I Make My Own Dust.” It’s a juggling act between the three members that is difficult to predict, even after many listens later.
The project’s instrumentation is the clear heavyweight champ. A defining sentiment that has garnered the group a steadfast influence. A roaring riff on “rooster” and the gluttonous breakdown of “the lady vanishes” are clear-cut models of that good-good guitar porn. Don’t get it twisted, though, Bar Italia’s more than pedal-addicts and reverb-proprietors; “bad reputation” pulls from baroque sensibilities, whereas “Plastered” is hollow and notably morose. Some Like It Hot’s lineup is scattered across the sonic plane, finding its fundamentals in a little bit of fun, and a lot-a-bit of grit.
Bar Italia’s kitsch is its awkwardness. It’s the sexiest aspect of their entire outfit. Nothing is in place, making the product all the more endearing. It’s masterful, maybe, as per our cultural bias of perfection. There’s a punk sensibility that’s escaped the mainstream (keep your Turnstile opinions away from me, please) that Bar Italia has uprooted and sprinkled throughout their discography, and continued with Some Like It Hot. Take “Eyepatch”: A B-52s-esque riff clashes with the booming drums as the trio play lyrical double dutch over, under, and on top of each other. It shouldn’t sound pleasing, or at least it doesn’t on paper. A complete sum of its parts, “Eyepatch” is equal parts tantalizing and perplexing. It’s charming.
Bar Italia is partially a return to tradition. They’ve been compared to about every British guitar band of the past forty-or-so years. If you ask me, the form was never lost, though. That stinkin’ noise music will transcend the present, and Bar Italia proves as such with Some Like It Hot. There’s no true comparison for the group; they zig-zag about, defying presumption. They produce the kind of stuff your parents will either despise for its whininess, or will adore, cause it’s just like the good-ol-daysss…or something nostalgia-baitey like that.
The titular track closes Some Like It Hot. Mellow at its inception, it picks up electric steam, then widdles away into another life with the familiar chimes of a bell. It’s a proper goodbye to the 45-minute journey. Though OG Bar Italia-heads (believers of the Dean Blunt gospel) may discredit their newest attempt as not slackish enough, it’s a project of relearning and reestablishment. It’s real, has always been so. Throw that guitar gush in there, and that’s enough, at least for me.