Bugo
Bugo e Miss Universo @ Velvet, Giais di Aviano (PN), 3 giugno 2006

THE REVIEW

As every year, I go to have a chat and say hello to Bugo when he comes to my area. This time it happens on a Saturday night, right after an honorable yet avoidable defeat of my Benetton Treviso in Rome, in a playoff game of the second most beautiful sport in the world (not after football...you'd understand me right away through gestures..)
Dusting off all the CDs I have of Bugo (i.e., all of them, even a single with the very scrappy R.U.N.I….by the way, what happened to the Unidentified Human Remains? Are they still spending their days paving roads in the saddest place in the universe, also known as the Milanese hinterland?) I discover I lost one… I must have left it at the house of that girlfriend of a friend of mine who tried in every way with me, after inviting me over for such important reasons that I had already forgotten them while I was getting in the car to go to her, even showing up at her door with a shoulder strap down from an overly large sweater (incredibly almost bigger than she was) and inviting me to her room because, lo and behold, she had the computer on right on her bed and couldn’t resist showing me something... Of the computer, of course.. or at least I pretended to believe... I think instead I resisted for even half an hour before sending her irrevocably where she was inevitably meant to be sent by me…
And then they make a saint out of the first one who happens by, just because he's one of the few who still goes to church… So I’m missing that CD, the one with "Casalingo", in short...

Bugo shows up late, and, incredibly to say, manages each time I see him to be even uglier… Eyes a bit more manic than usual, a light blue shirt like a bus line driver, with patches on the shoulder straps in a brownish plaid like Irish house upholstery, a tie in a rotten gold color, British-style hair and a mustache à la Marco Ferradini.
The Italian Mister Bean. Great, our former foundry worker…
He leans a large folded flag against the wall and opens the concert with ”Bicchiere nella birra” from what remains his best album for me, ”Sentimento westernato”, the second album after the debut ”La prima gratta”.
The band, all mustachioed and with the air of those who would use beer even to brush their teeth if they could, follows our hero with decent mastery, which I don’t know if it fits the discussion but for me it fits well placed here.
The new pieces from the recent, decent album ”Sguardo contemporaneo” are quite unknown to most who crowd the venue (average age of the female representatives: 15?). At a certain point, Bugo brings out a piece absolutely unheard of, I think it’s so old I don’t even know it... ”Il fuoco di Sant’Agostino”, with a rhythm that vaguely resembles “Vortice” by Skiantos… beautiful, but I don’t know what album it’s on, assuming it’s ever been on one!
But already a couple of songs earlier, she made her appearance, between the stage and audience, between getting groped and groping, between a tired laugh and a "stoned" giggle, a dark-haired girl, with a clearly out-of-service satellite navigator… Every now and then she swerves, loses balance… Someone must have made her believe she’s the hottest in the world, and she, not having understood the original reason that led someone to tell her that (maybe someone who by morning will find her thong on his ears), believes it, oh how she believes it… She’s not ugly for sure, Miss Universe, not at all, just to be clear… But Miss Universe of my satellites doesn’t stop anymore, continues to whisper something in Bugo’s ear, who starts to no longer have that amused face he usually has… In fact, shortly after, just enough time to realize that ”Amore mio infinito” has more hit potential than I thought listening to it on the CD, he stops singing and leaves her the stage with all the microphones, as if to say “do you want to sing? go ahead, do it now.” It’s not hard to imagine how it ended… Miss Universe did nothing at all, she got a few insults, certainly not from me, who am a polite guy, always well-groomed, though a nag… by the way, Bugo, you didn’t do “Io mi rompo i coglioni”!!! sacrilegeee.. but after all, there were enough people annoying to make a stall….

(Bugo, between us, I’m sorry I couldn’t say hello, because then in the end security stepped in and prevented even me from getting close to you to shoot the breeze like when, for example, I was at your concert in Ferrara.. But if by mistake you told Miss Universe of great nothingness “do it”, then the blame for this whole sh*tty situation was only yours…)