Antonello Venditti
Prendilo tu questo frutto amaro

Venditti sinks even lower with this new album, the first to be praised more for its CD version. A mess of bland songs, shameless self-plagiarism, and poor imitations. "Ogni volta" is the poor imitation of "Ricordati di me," but if you copy something well done, it's likely to be not entirely dismissible. "Tutti all'inferno" is the poor imitation of "In questo mondo di ladri," but this time post-Tangentopoli Venditti sends "the thieves," or in other words, the representatives of the First Republic, into the fire, riding the wave of general outrage. As though the Second Republic would have brought us significant changes... "Vento selvaggio" is the poor imitation of "Miraggi," an engaging episode from 1988, but unlike its predecessor, it has a monotonous text devoid of the wordplay like "quando non guarda guardi lui" which resulted intriguing. Then, the music is sluggish just to prolong pieces without a great lyrical substance. But suddenly, the positive exception of the record appears: "Eroi minori," dedicated to the boys of Falcone and Borsellino's escort, a song where Venditti's commitment and historical sense seem to emerge as they haven't in years. Tangentopoli and mafia massacres are the two great social centers of this album, then, along with the transition from the First to the Second Republic. Yes, the "new Republic" in which Venditti claims to have no one who resembles him in the musically horrifying title track, "Prendilo tu questo frutto amaro," a cover of Steven Van Zandt's "Bitter Fruit." A fundamentally mediocre song, a "bad cover" far from the good "Alta marea" from four years earlier, in which Venditti is far too direct, and talks of "presa pe' culo" (it reminds me of the twelve years later "Piove su Roma" where he says "tempo di merda"...) in addition to being ingratiating and opportunistic, insisting on the concept of "justice." Personally, the album would end here if it weren't for the three fillers, which I listen to but don't memorize, "Parla come baci," "A che gioco giochi," and "1000 figli," but maybe that's my shortcoming and perhaps they will be better than the aforementioned songs.

 "Prendilo tu questo frutto amaro" thus seems to be Antonello Venditti's invitation to the listener referring to the album, as well as the metaphorical bitter fruit that the citizen must taste in the early period of the Berlusconi era. Speaking of poor imitations, even the cover is one, as it echoes "Benvenuti in paradiso," with this alter-ego of Ours, a cartoon character, precisely no longer tangible and perhaps double-crossing (one might be tempted to say "A che gioco giochi"?) and this time also with animated women surrounding him, who should be the female choirs of "Tutti all'inferno" (a trivial contrast to the paradise of the previous album), but in a broader sense, the substantial supremacy of the woman and the frivolous over commitment, also reduced to a spectacle product.

But the worst is yet to come; just wait for "the end of the 20th century," of which Venditti, referring to his work in the '70s, was a worthy representative. Then life will somehow return "to being fantastic."