Alberto Fortis
Alberto Fortis

THE REVIEW

ALBERTO FORTIS (1979) 8.5/10

In the end, it was Er Piotta who “forgave” Fortis for his invective against the Romans (later he tried to justify himself by saying he was referring to politicians, but almost no one believed him). This happened about twenty years ago on Music Farm; live on Rai (hosted by Simona Ventura), the Supercafone became the spokesperson for the Roman people and settled the case, making peace with Fortis, the Piedmontese (but Lombard by adoption) artist. “Brutta banda di ruffiani e di intriganti” turned into a cheeky verse and was no longer offensive: it took, more or less, 25 years. And it took the Ventura-Piotta duo: come on, I mean, I hope I'm making myself clear.

“Alberto Fortis” is the recording debut of the singer-songwriter born in Domodossola in 1955. The whole story about Micocci, broken promises, the (for Fortis, blessed) move from Rome to Milan, and so on—you all know it, so I'll skip ahead. I'll just say that Micocci, who behaved questionably with Fortis, wasn't exactly a fool in the record business. The first two tracks of the album, “A voi romani” and “Milano e Vincenzo”, were composed later and weren’t among those he played for Micocci. It’s not hard to figure out why: the first is an invective against the Romans (and Micocci was Roman); the second is something never heard before in Italian music up to that point, since it contains not one, but several death threats (“Vincenzo io ti ammazzerò/sei troppo stupido per vivere”), truly representing something absolutely new. Likewise, the exaltation of Milan over Rome: yes, the year before there was “Milano” by Dalla; “Innamorati a Milano” by Memo Remigi (which actually treats the Lombard capital rather harshly), “Luci a San Siro” by Vecchioni is not a song about the city, but about something else. So “...mi piacciono i tuoi quadri grigi/le luci gialle i tuoi cortei/Milano sono contento che ci sei/Vincenzo dice che sei fredda/frenetica e senza pietà ma è cretino e poi vive a Roma e che ne sa...” was a real blow to the musical domination of the Eternal City over the Lombard one. But yes, issues pass, the two made peace (not at Music Farm), in 2009 (they took their time), so much so that Fortis would write the preface for Micocci’s autobiography titled, with considerable irony, “...Vincenzo io ti ammazzerò” (published by Coniglio Editore).

Lombard by action, as they say. Here is his tribute to Milan: “Il Duomo di notte”, which really feels like a nocturnal song. The album features PFM: you can hear it. The sound is strong and convincing, as in the final coda (a little over 2’ long) of the very sad, but beautiful, “La sedia di lillà”. The approach is conversational and doesn’t pull any punches (and why should it?): “...ma vedevo l’ombra appesa/la vedevo dondolare...”, you know what I mean. I rate it as the best on the album, also because, right after a song of such caliber, as the opener of side B, he immediately throws in “Nuda e senza seno”, which I have always found irresistible (he dreams of devouring his lover, and doesn’t beat around the bush, including the fact that she doesn’t, at the end of the day, have such a developed brain): today it would be impossible to release a song like this, but truly it is one of the most entertaining things I have ever listened to.

You know, everyone sees things in their own way. Some fall in love listening to the Bee Gees, others to Gigi D’Alessio: music is beautiful because of this too. As for myself, I have always tended to snub a track like “La pazienza”, and perhaps never really understood it deeply. Then some things happen (many bad ones have happened to me lately, it happens) and you come back to listen to this album and you find yourself in front of a song like this that seems to want to tell you so much, and you begin to feel touched, perhaps even feel bad. So you hate it, you say no, why should I torment myself by listening to it, but perhaps we are all a little masochistic and sometimes like to suffer, so you listen to it again and in the end you don’t regret it: it was talking about you. Just as “Sono contento di voi”, which isn’t about me, but the idea of “...quando vecchi saremo...” I have always (in this case, always) found fascinating.

There are a couple of things I don’t like: “L’amicizia”, which to many will mean something that doesn’t reach me (unlike “La pazienza”), and “In soffitta”: all things considered, it seems to me merely a modest filler.