Bugo
La gioia di Melchiorre

LA RECENSIONE

"It might seem like a sad song, by some fisherman by the river" ("Loner", Bugo)

Pure art and strokes of genius often arise from completely hostile, alienating atmospheres.
San Martino di Trecate and Milan are desolate places, albeit in different ways, blended in a mix made of sideways glances and complete melancholy, granting Bugo the keys to access his masterpiece.
Rice fields, long dusty avenues are the atmospheres evoked by this record, flowing like ghosts in the imaginary world of the artist from Novara, like slides of proudly provincial life: they are a collection of ended loves, healthy disillusionment, and sighs.
Someone said Bugo is an unconventional, elusive, mysterious artist. Golia and Melchiorre strip him of his most hidden emotions, of the feelings poorly concealed by a fake clown's face, by someone who mocks his own existence.
Stories of ordinary discomfort like "Feeling Like a Dog" narrate the sensations of a modern boy from Via Gluck, bottled in the forced festivity of metropolitan life, nailed to a reality different from the wine of his land, from true smiles, from the simplicity of small gestures.
"Able" and "What Rights Do I Have Over You" are moments of genuine poetry, when love becomes nostalgia of a past emotion, like the wind of an unusual summer day, whistling and bringing along mocking smiles of missed opportunities, of regrets.
The end is a collection of dim lights in the nighttime fog of the rice fields, when life falls asleep and thoughts expand in a small corollary of memories of an Italy that no longer exists, raked together in a collection of dry leaves.