Album Review: Come Prima Hey Frank by Gluck Track
Alright, let’s talk about this wild ride of an album—Come Prima Hey Frank by Gluck Track. Released in 1975, it’s one of those hidden gems from Italy that feels like a time capsule but still hits different today. A mix of rock, pop, and electronic vibes with styles ranging from prog rock to ballads and even disco? Yeah, that sounds messy on paper, but somehow, Gluck Track pulls it off. Props to Universal International Music for letting this eclectic project see the light of day.
First up, “Hey Franck.” Oh man, this track is stuck in my head like gum on a shoe. It’s got this groovy, almost sleazy prog rock vibe that builds into this massive wall of sound. The synths are all over the place, but instead of being annoying, they feel like this chaotic party you don’t wanna leave. There’s something so raw about it—it’s not polished or perfect, and maybe that’s why I love it. You can tell they weren’t trying to fit into any box; they were just making what felt right at the moment. Plus, the way the vocals kinda wobble in places? Feels human, ya know? Like, these guys were real people with feelings and not just studio robots.
Then there’s “Come Prima.” This one flips the script completely. If “Hey Franck” is the life of the party, “Come Prima” is that quiet moment when everyone’s gone home, and you’re sitting alone, staring at the ceiling. It’s a ballad, but not in a sappy way. The piano work here is haunting, like it’s whispering secrets directly into your soul. And the lyrics (even though I only caught bits in Italian) feel heavy, like they carry some kind of longing or regret. Every time it plays, I get this weird lump in my throat. It’s beautiful but also kinda sad, like remembering someone you used to know really well but lost touch with.
What makes Come Prima Hey Frank stand out isn’t just its genre-bending chaos—it’s how it makes you feel. One minute you’re dancing around your room like an idiot, and the next, you’re curled up on the couch thinking about life choices. That’s rare. Most albums pick a lane and stick to it, but Gluck Track? Nah, they zigzag all over the place, and honestly, I respect the heck out of that.
Here’s the thing though—listening to this album feels like finding a dusty old photo album in your grandma’s attic. It’s nostalgic, sure, but not in a way that screams “retro cool.” It’s more personal, like peeking into someone else’s memories. And honestly? I think that’s what music should do sometimes—make you feel connected to something bigger than yourself.
Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: if Gluck Track had Instagram back in ’75, I bet their posts would’ve been as unpredictable as this album. Imagine scrolling through their feed—half rockstar poses, half blurry pics of pasta dinners. Now that would’ve been iconic.
