“Stupida Allegria” captures that roller-coaster moment when love, nostalgia and annoyance all crash into one another. The singer walks through her day wrapped in the other person’s scent, spotting their shadow in every wrinkle on her face and every street-corner melody. She tries to push them away, even blames them for her own flaws, yet every goodbye loops back to another return. It is a confession of contradiction: “I’ve hated you a little, but you’re still my silly joy, my melancholy.”
Emma turns this push-and-pull into a lively street scene: a man strumming a guitar on the pavement, someone whistling from a window, colors splashing across the city as memories flood in. The song celebrates how love can be both fragile and unstoppable, irritating and irresistible. By the end, she admits the obvious truth we all know too well—she will always come back, because that “stupida allegria” is hers alone, a sweet ache she simply cannot (and maybe does not want to) cure.