Album Review: No Es Lindo by Edoardo Lucchina E La Sua Orchestra Tipica
If you’re into vintage sounds with a Latin twist, No Es Lindo might just be the hidden gem you didn’t know you needed. Released in 1957 by Italian maestro Edoardo Lucchina and his orchestra, this album blends tango rhythms with pop sensibilities—a mix that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly alive. Under the Durium label, it’s a snapshot of Italy’s mid-century fascination with Latin culture, delivered with flair.
The title track, “No Es Lindo,” is unforgettable. It kicks off with a sultry bandoneón riff that pulls you right into a smoky Buenos Aires café—or maybe an Italian piazza where everyone’s dancing like nobody’s watching. The melody sticks to your brain like glue, but what really gets me is how Lucchina balances passion and restraint. You can tell he’s not trying too hard; the music breathes on its own. And those strings? They add this bittersweet layer that makes you wanna sigh and smile at the same time.
Then there’s “Gelosia,” which hits different. This one’s darker, moodier—like jealousy itself put to music. The pacing is slower, almost hypnotic, and the interplay between the instruments feels like a conversation full of tension and longing. I found myself rewinding it multiple times just to catch all the little details. There’s something raw about it, like it doesn’t care if you love it or hate it—it just is.
What strikes me most about No Es Lindo is how timeless it feels. Sure, it came out over 60 years ago, but the emotions are universal. Tango has this way of cutting straight to the heart, and Lucchina nails it without overdoing it. Plus, hearing these Italian musicians tackle a genre rooted in Argentina shows how music transcends borders—even back then.
Honestly, listening to this album made me wonder why more people don’t talk about it today. Maybe it’s because Durium wasn’t as big as some other labels, or maybe it’s just one of those records that slipped through the cracks. Either way, it deserves a spot in any serious collector’s library—or even just yours if you dig stuff that tells a story without saying a word.
Final thought? If albums could travel through time, I bet No Es Lindo would fit right in at a modern-day milonga…or maybe a hipster coffee shop playing vinyls on repeat. Who knew Italy could do tango so well?
