Atahualpa Yupanqui
30 Ans de Chansons

“Until Atahualpa, or some other god, tells you: descansate ninjo, I’ll continue”.

Many of you – obviously, the best ones - will have heard this famous verse by Conte thousands of times. Some will know exactly to whom and what the lawyer from Asti was referring. Others, innocently, either out of laziness or lack of deeper exploration, will not. Amen: Paolo Conte speaks of Atahualpa Yupanqui, a genius born in 1908 in the Argentine Pampas, a singer-songwriter of incredible stature and depth. A figure who is a crime not to know, but an even greater crime not to make known. Thus, we poor Italians can grant ourselves collective absolution, here, as almost always and almost everywhere, secretly envying our French cousin who often reaches things earlier and better (and for that, we often can do nothing else but poke fun at them…). Yes, because Atahualpa’s records can be found in France, in big and small stores, just as until a few years ago, you could find many more records of our Rava, Fresu, or Testa beyond the Alps than you would in our homeland (Gianmaria Testa, moreover, was for a long time exclusively produced in France, given that our market was too wrapped up in the exaltation of various warbling Pausini-like voices that have inhabited the peninsula and our poor ears for far too long).
Over the Alps, they might be cheeky as much as you like, but they love jazz and South America, and what deserves to be loved (quite a bit) from the America up there. The fact is, over there, even in the same retail chains present in Italy, certain stuff is available, while here, quite simply, no. So, you cross the border, buy the records, and return with the furtive air of someone who feels they’ve stolen something, almost like smuggling drugs, instead of soul food that can only do good. Then, fortunately, the Great Network arrived, and there, thanks to the Mulo and other things, and thumbing one’s nose at the beloved SIAE, one can search for and even find something. On the other hand, folks, a trip to France is certainly more costly, even if it could bring many other satisfactions.

But let's not digress too much and get back to talking about Atahualpa. And his classical guitar. That "weapon" he knew how to handle extremely well, becoming one with his voice. Without a doubt, where his fingers ended, somehow a guitar had to begin. An intimist and idealist singer-songwriter, he sang about poor people, peasants, his lands, American colonizations, melancholy, and sadness. His songs are truly beautiful and never, even remotely, touch rhetoric or banality. Considering that his song collections began in 1940, and he is said to have written over 1500 songs, there should be no shortage of material, if one wanted to search and fortunately find it. In the absence of anything else, you can find some summary collections, like the one reviewed here, which obviously do not gather the absolute best of his production but offer a handful of works sufficient to get an idea. Certainly, one cannot help but be moved by absolute gems like “Duerme Negrito”, or “La Del Campo”, or “El Poeta” or “Campesino”. Or not feel a shiver at the immediacy, spontaneity, and “truth” of commitment songs like “Basta Ya” or “Soy Libre! Soy Bueno!”, or tributes like “Nada Mas” (to Guevara) or “Cancion Para Pablo Neruda”.
But, always if you want to look for them, you can find testimonies of the other facets of Atahualpa: some beautiful instrumental-only records, and some books. I must admit I have found only a tiny part of his output, and I search for the hidden treasures with diligence and almost daily pleasure. Then there is a (heh, who’d have thought...) French period where he would have recorded many tracks, excellently recorded, in Paris. There would be a box set that I once saw when I didn’t have money, and later, having it, I never found it again, according to the most fierce law of retribution. Most of his corpus, however, is substantially composed of songs for voice and guitar, following the best framework of pure austerity and cantatorial substantialism. A character of this caliber and these qualities, who began his career in 1940, would be an idol and a teacher for singer-songwriters everywhere. In fact, he would, in short, be a School. Not here. With two wonderful exceptions: a recognition at an "ancient" 1980 Tenco Prize and that lawyer and singer from Asti who reserved a beautiful verse for him in one of his most beautiful songs, certainly inspired by and fundamentally dedicated to him.