Antonello Venditti
Lilly

I know it's difficult, maybe impossible. But I would like to be able to think and write about 70s Venditti as just a singer. Yes, the politics, the ideologies, '68, the revolution and the barricades… but what remains musically of the singer, or rather, the singer-songwriter? And what is left of that period and those records? Because not everything was lost like young Lilly and her damned holes in the skin.

Back then, Venditti couldn't yet know that his record would become an evergreen of Italian music for all time. And yet all the premises were there. The inspiration, the strength of youth, and on the fingertips, what can I say, “a little jazz and the shadows of life…”. That was needed to compose great songs. Antonello was an extremely motivated type, more convinced than others that he could make it. Time would soon prove him right. He didn't possess the delicate and visionary poetics of his friend Francesco De Gregori but had a keen sense for melody and song form, that's for sure. His conviction was firmly rooted in the idea that even in Italy you could make rock music or perhaps just pop, modeled after what Elton John had managed to do in England and what Billy Joel and Randy Newman would soon achieve in America. Piano, melody, and why not, some lyrics that weren't as banal as those Italy had inherited from decades of light songs and flattery à la Mogol. In this sense, Lilly is the album that best embodies all this.

The album opens with a breathtaking ballad, winning in its harmonies and crescendo. “Lilly”, the song that gives the record its title, finds its breath without needing many words, simply with an obsessive piano loop that gradually strengthens. Hypnotic and poignant, chasing that name endlessly. It is also a snapshot of those years, a tragic drug story that many lived as if it were their own at the time. It will be an unprecedented success. A single, number one in Italy, even surpassing the Bee Gees, will propel the album to the top of the charts.

“L’amore non ha padroni” is another great song, perhaps less immediate than Lilly but certainly just as effective. They say it refers to his love story with his then-partner, Simona Izzo, who would become equally famous in cinema and TV. We are interested, once again, in the musical aspect of the song, intense and brilliant, never banal.

The Roman interlude that follows, titled “Santa Brigida”, has always left me puzzled, both in its over-the-top interpretation and in the orchestral arrangements which, in my opinion, clash with the sobriety of the album. However, some people really liked it in all its roguish Roman charm… I leave the verdict to the listeners.

Side A closes with “Attila e la stella”, an acoustic ballad, and we're back on the frontlines with a piece that may not have the stature of a classic but retains its abundant charm. Recently, Venditti and De Gregori performed it together on stage and the song has withstood the test of time nearly half a century after its release.

Side B of the vinyl, “Compagno di scuola” is a classic among classics. It has influenced tons of future singer-songwriters and recently became the inspiration for a film complete with a sequel. Today it still moves us, despite the inevitable clichés, with its delicate harmonies and orchestrations. And above all in the words, a bit “scholarly” but experienced by all of us exactly as by Antonello at the time of high school.

“Lo stambecco ferito” raises the bar and hints at the early Elton John, closer to progressive than to pop. A “Madman across the water” from our land, if you will, dense in its lyrics and the author's expressiveness, pianistically strong and moving, especially in the wonderful final coda.

The album closes with “Penna a sfera” where Venditti tests his pop vein that in the years to come will become his winning card. The mischievous and provocative lyrics lampoon a journalist of the time who had mocked him, and the song works wonderfully with its uptempo pace, almost a divertissement to lighten the predominantly heavy atmosphere of the album.

Lilly ultimately marks the dawn of a great musical season, think of “Rimmel” and shortly after, “Via Paolo Fabbri”, “La torre di babele”, “La fiera dell’est” etc. A unique and unrepeatable season, conscious and mature, although certainly not yet free from positions and alignments that, in my opinion, partly limited its purely artistic value. Despite inheritances and a contextualization heavy with discussed and discussable contents, an innovative musical proposal emerged. Consciously directed at Anglo-Saxon models, in reality, it openly distanced itself from them to create a story of its own, an Italian story. And Antonello succeeded and had a great part in all this, just like his friend De Gregori and a few others. In 1975, the boys from Folkstudio finally walked alone and finally focused their great talent, which became explicit, original, and widely shared and recognized by their generation.