Bobby Solo
Homemade

THE REVIEW

Hi guys, I confess that when I registered on Debaser under the pen name "Il_Paolo", I knew that this day would come: of course, I didn't know which day it would be, but destiny was inevitable, as it was inevitable for me to deal, in my gallery of Italian musical characters, with Roberto Satti from Rome, known as Bobby Solo, now residing in the areas around Soave, a pleasant wine-producing locality in the eastern part of the province of Verona, where the airy spirit of the Scala theater blends with the pragmatism of Vicenza.

Regarding Bobby, I had some reservations, especially about the album to review for you, not wanting to reproduce the usual "greatest hits", or perhaps some unreleased tracks with his friend/enemy Little Tony. Reservations that, magically, evaporated last Saturday when, at my trusted record store, I was able to appreciate the album in question, a collection of Johnny Cash and Dylan covers recorded in Verona, almost to mark an ideal meeting point between Arkansas (Clinton aside, the most anonymous of the Confederate States) and the province of Verona (city and great lake aside, one of the most boring provinces in the north, or so I'm told).

Bobby Solo, the Italian clone of the more baritone Elvis, an indomitable icon of evergreen rock (hair, sunglasses, countrified jackets), interpreter of some classics from the '60s ("Se piangi..."; "Una lacrima..."; "Zingara") is an honest artist who has never denied, nor renounced, the derivative character of his music from (now bland) American models, continuing to perform, in smaller circuit venues, covers of blues, country, folk, and root rock pieces, which have had Cash especially as their champion, whom Bobby pays tribute to here.

Mr. Solo's interpretations are not bad at all and, above all, they are respectful of the original, with the merit of faithfully disseminating in Italy a genre that we always tend to overlook (I mean Cash's more than Elvis's), however, I have to admit, not without reason: to me personally Cash doesn’t say much, his connection to the rural culture of the States, his underlying conservatism in musical choices make him seem old already from the '60s when he was surpassed by saturated doses of electrification, precisely by that Dylan whom Bobby pays tribute to in this album, as well as by all the blues-rock epigones of the late sixties, and by tradition revisitors like the Byrds, Flying Burrito, Little Feat, Allman Bros & Co.

The album, speaking strictly of music, thus stands at a solid 3/5, considering the quality of the performer, the repertoire, the sense of the work. All the major Cash tracks sung here are beautiful, among which I particularly mention, for completeness of exposition, "Big River", "I Walk The Line", and "Folsom Prison Blues". Not entirely fitting, if we want and also in light of the observations made earlier, is the inclusion of Dylan's "Blowin' In The Wind", "It Ain't Me Babe", and "Girl From The North Country", which, however, may attract all those who are unaware or forgetful of Cash's best pieces.

It should be noted that the album is entirely played by Bobby (except for the drums, hence the title... "homemade"), akin to a scaled-down Prince or Rundgren.

Some final thoughts regarding Bobby: as an observer of "minor" Italian music, or no longer mainstream, as well as of the characters who populate it, I had a rather stereotypical image of Solo, a child of the rehashing from seaside roundabouts or, again, of the roxy bar. I thought him, in short, condemned to repeat his old successes, a bit like certain characters from Altman's Nashville, with a certain aura of old age, and I say this without malice, considering that these clichés are often imposed by record companies and managers who force these musicians to favor village fairs over music itself.

Seeing Our Man at work in the dissemination of this musical genre, which I don't entirely like but which I certainly can't define as unworthy of listening to, restores the image of a courageous and honest artist, whom I imagine walking the sunny roads of the lower Verona region, raising his eyes to the gray sky and dreaming of being in Arkansas.

To each their own, while you must be content with the radically Yours

Il_Paolo