Almamegretta
Imaginaria

In Naples, there exists a musical phenomenon called "Neomelodico," and I believe this definition is enlightening in itself. The precursors of this phenomenon were mainly Mario Merola (the inventor of Neapolitan tragedy) and Nino D'Angelo (whose blonde bob has entered the collective imagination as a legendary element), whose songs were wildly popular towards the late 70s and throughout the 80s (yes, the fall of the Wall affected them too).

The tradition found renewed vigor and a worthy successor in Gigi D'Alessio, who spent years paying his dues by playing at weddings and baptisms for the children and grandchildren of major Camorra bosses before making it to the Sanremo stage, and from there to the top of the Italian sales charts. In conjunction with the commercialization of the D'Alessio phenomenon, at least a million other cheap singers have emerged, with a more trashy look than you can imagine, a vocal style centered on "gorgheggio" (locals in Naples will know what I'm referring to), and musical accompaniment practically based on the rhythms included in Bontempi keyboards for children, which have now become the soundtrack of the city's alleys. The strong point of this new generation of "artists" lies especially in the themes addressed in their lyrics, which cannot fail to cause embarrassment and, for my part, infinite contempt (at the moment I can think of the story of a fugitive lamenting his condition as an exile during the sacred Christmas period, and the story of an incestuous relationship between two cousins unaware of their relation, among the most representative, but I could come up with at least a billion other examples, as my brother is an avid listener of this stuff). Here, the greatest fault of these folks is not just that they provide a distorted version of Neapolitan reality, but especially that they have corrupted and trivialized one of the fundamental components of Neapolitan song, namely the ability to sing about love in an almost completely natural way, rendering it merely the inspirer of betrayals and of young girls in love with married men (God, how sad). And I assure you this is really harmful, especially for a city like Naples, whose tradition in love songs is known worldwide, I would say.

Perla cchiù d''e pperle
rosa cchiù d''e rrose
si' pe mme
rigneme ancora 'e vase
sta vocca tene sete 'e te
tu quanno scinne è comme si purtasse luce mmiezo 'a via
areto a te se chiude 'a porta d''a malinconia (Fa' ammore Cu' mme)

(More of a pearl than pearls, more of a rose than roses you are for me, fill me with kisses again, this mouth thirsts for you. When you go out, it’s like you bring light to the street, behind you the door of melancholy closes).

Why do these words never fail to move me? Why don't I feel the same disgust that a Natale Galletta or any like him provoke in me? Because the simplicity of the words expressed combined with the sincerity of the feeling, so naturally, cannot help but move me, cannot help but make me feel that the power of simple words is simply explosive and pervasive, that this person is talking about something familiar because they have lived it, and at the same time, they are the voice and soul of those who live in and for the city. It is the city, as everyone knows it or wishes to know it. I know I can believe in these words, I know I can believe in this love hindered by people's gossip, because this is how it works in Naples, where I can affirm that time truly seems to pass more slowly than elsewhere from certain points of view. Love, for example.

And if "Mergellina 70" really makes me see the dawn and the magnificent landscape slowly illuminated by the first sun, makes me smell the sea and the city slowly waking up, then I can truly imagine how many times Raiss himself has seen that scene, passing quickly by car (but I prefer to imagine him on a scooter). And when my mother's typical saying (dicette 'o pappece vicino 'a noce damme 'o tiempo ca te sportoso) is even quoted in a song, giving literary dignity to something I've pondered since childhood (and I assure you I understood it very late), then I can't help but smile blissfully and think that yes, Naples is a city that stays within you wherever you go, sometimes a blessing and a curse at the same time, a way of being and thinking that cannot be changed.

So who cares if the Alma have slowly moved away from dub sounds to something more danceable and fashionable? And let's even overlook the fact that social themes (present in a much less angry and more affectionate manner in "Cana") have given way to easier singing of love. If they continue to bring a tear to my eye, I always listen to them with pleasure. Believe me.

And now let the lynching begin.