Teatro Ghione, Via delle Fornaci, just steps from the Vatican, in the heart of Rome.
The hall contains 468 seats, intimacy reigns supreme, allowing for a focused experience of the show, creating a bond with the performers on stage and remaining united for the entire duration.
A singer marked by time but still willing, firmly grasps the object that has accompanied him for half a century, a microphone he used his whole life to be heard and never imagined he would have to use again.
A microphone that was not just a microphone.
Yes, because there are certain things we can't know about a singer: when the microphone, for example, becomes a gun and the singer is ready to shoot himself in the mouth but doesn't, thanks to a song of his that plays at just that moment and must be sung, the audience is there, he must save himself.
Or when the microphone becomes scorching and the throat inflames, and he clings to the gooseneck stand.
It's December 9, 2013, and the singer holds a concert that will be recorded and then released with an unreleased track "Io non ti lascerò mai" written for his wife who died by his side during the night after forty years of love.
"Now I talk to her, I greet her, she is with me more than before.
I am a believer.
Before, when she was alive, she didn't come to all my concerts, now she's always there," says the singer.
This concert is different; he will sing songs never sung before, songs that are twenty, thirty, forty years old written for others: Mia Martini, Morandi, Anna Oxa, Andrea Bocelli to name a few.
But in reality, this work is a sort of testimony of a way of conceiving music different from the contemporary one, a world where great composers, singers, and musicians had a strong openness to others, to collaboration, there wasn't the individualism that exists today and in fact, before each piece, he tells very interesting anecdotes that link him and Mimí, him and Gianni, him and Andrea, and so on.
The anecdote about Mia Martini: "They called me to write a song for a great interpreter, this time the song had to open her album, her arranger was Bacalov, the future Oscar winner for soundtracks. The studio was that of Claudio Mattone, we were at the top in every sense. And she was at the top in every sense, she arrived! We were at point four one and I was playing the guitar at that time. So, I was in a box with the guitar and she arrives, she was a bit late and apologizes, says: sorry! I'm a bit cold! And I told her: Mimí, listen, even if you didn't come and sang it to us over the phone, this song would have been the same".
The singer is happy! He didn't shoot himself, his throat didn't inflame, and that object, for him a magical artifact that he will carry with him on his last day of life, didn't burn, quite the opposite.
Then the applause, the right hand on the chest, the lights all on, the music stand pushed aside, the salute to Maestro Cinzia Gangarella, the salute to the audience, and the security given to him by an entire theater on how proud and happy Elena would have been.
His Elena.
According to "All Music Italia" this will be the best Italian album of 2014.
"Suoni tra ieri e domani" by Amedeo Minghi.
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