Bobo Rondelli
Per Amor Del Cielo

Dear Bobo,

we haven't understood a damn thing, but you can say it better. I just stained my shirt with two drops of red wine, I'm sure it's happened to you too.

I'll probably have to throw it away, lucky it was a D'Altieri bought on sale last winter. I've always hated light blue shirts, I've always thought that wearing one would place me in a social class, that of employees waiting for retirement at the now 67 years, seeing every way out closed, that social class that looks for evening courses to free themselves from the eight hours of slavery and not out of real interest, that feels tired coming home and at a certain point in their life starts buying only light blue shirts, indeed, or white ones with squares drawn in red, brown or always that damn blue, tablecloths cut with two sleeves attached under a collar, often not even slim-fit because the belly is advancing and one is ashamed of one's body. I'm not there, in that broth, not entirely, but a light blue shirt every now and then makes me believe I am. So, look, it's better this way. Maybe, and I say maybe, you helped since while the drops of wine were falling, I was fighting with the computer's cd player to get it to open and insert your "Per amor del cielo". My computer is old, I bought it in November 2005 and I'm still downloading Windows XP updates, so you'll understand that it's losing its edge. By the way, XP is the Microsoft operating system that will hold its own for at least another five years, just so you know if it interests you. You don't care a damn, I know.

I'm writing to you today before seeing you tomorrow, I don't know how many of us there will be, but if it happens to be few, I wouldn't mind, because I feel like shaking your hand and who knows, maybe you'll leave immediately mumbling a few words and the idea I have of you will collapse, so if I'm writing to you today it's because I want to write to the idea more than to the man himself. The terrible death of Marco Simoncelli has given me further confirmation that we are much more attached to the idea of a person than to the person themselves, because it's the idea that makes us dream while the person is almost always an abyss, so understand me. We haven't understood a damn thing because people love summer and instead we both long for autumn, for dry leaves and the most beautiful colors of the year. I've never been to Livorno but "Viaggio d'autunno" makes me understand that after all, we both like memories, thinking in autumn ("sweetly hurting oneself" as you sing) is almost a comfort because you see nature following you in your gestures, as you bring a Gitanes to your lips, as you drink a glass of Morellino di Scansano, when in summer everything seems out of place for nostalgics like us.

We've already met, anyway, on June 13th at the Carroponte in Sesto, I was among those fifty pilgrims who came to see you, a few souls who came to hear you celebrate the victory at the last referendum and pay poetic homage to masturbation, you cost 5 or 10 euros, I don't remember now, and from there you've kept me company for an entire summer in which I lived through deeply fluctuating moments, just like your, our, universe is fluctuating. Anyway, autumn suits you much better, and not just you, so welcome October, which, damn it, is almost over so I'll wait for the next mid-month, March. I am, we are, two in-between people, goofballs and reflective, but people understand you more. In March I will listen better to "La marmellata", which if I'm being honest is one of the best things you've ever written; "Per amor del cielo", the song, fits well with October, soon I'll have to stop listening to it because it will become so, too cold. It takes courage or indifference to record an album like this, and I believe your case is more the latter, for this I'd gladly pay you a drink: after all, after a career of dirty and easy guitar strumming, you decide to be intimate like the best of friends and come out with simple arrangements like poems taught in kindergarten, acoustic guitar, piano, even the drums is a rare case. Sometimes simplicity and intimacy reach excessive levels ("Soffio d'angelo" I always skip because it makes my balls drop, excuse my sincerity), but I hope I'm not being monotonous if I repeat saying that "La marmellata" is one of the highest points you could reach, and it is as simple as morning breakfast. Which is the most important meal of the day, by the way. "Madame Sitrì" too is a jewel that - don't get a big head now - brings you closer to Faber (a bit like "Il cielo è di tutti", it seems written with Pagani). A few days ago I tell a friend of mine that I'm listening to your album, without saying which one but it was this one, she has never heard of you but looks up some songs, and after a while, she replies saying that you're "a great guy". The song she heard was just "Madame Sitrì", and if I ever pass by Livorno I won't be able to not throw in a thought. A friend was singing it continuously this summer, as we traveled Croatia and Hungary, yes you're popular even in Lombardy, kingdom of Berlusconi, Formigoni, and here you make the rhyme even if it's obvious. Anyway, if you want to know, "Licantropi" is the one I appreciate the most of the whole album, as sugary to the point of being advised against for diabetics, damn how sentimental you can be at times, and then in the next piece ("Niente più di questo l'amore", in case you didn't have it in mind) you talk about family, kids, and end up looking at another's ass. "Licantropi" came to me at the right moment, the one in which you remember the moments with those who sometimes, at night, you swear you wish you'd never met so you could live without the awareness that someone like this exists somewhere, with the future that won't see her in your arms, waiting when she sleeps (yes, I'm quoting you, don't break my chops). Then the night passes and in reality you are happy. We haven't understood a damn thing because we're both always searching. We haven't understood a damn thing because we stain blue shirts and maturity has only provided us with new wine labels to recommend to women, friends, diners. We haven't understood a damn thing because we protect the dream of a night that we wish could be a thousand, sometimes caressing it until pulling its hair, without realizing that it hurts her. For heaven's sake, don't contradict me otherwise the idea will start to collapse already from now. Tomorrow you will present your latest album, of which maybe I'll speak in the future, but after hearing it today in the morning can I make a small observation? This one was a little better.

A hug, although you'd prefer a bottle of red. That, if I ever manage to, I will offer you.

AJ