Carmen Consoli
Un Sorso in Più

THE REVIEW

Carmen Consoli is the greatest Italian singer, the quintessential Cantantessa, there is no doubt about it. This is obviously a statement of praise towards the great Carmen, but at the same time an implied reproach, an indirect accusation towards the current state of Italian Music and song: dimmerda, tout court.

Obviously, I do not state this with the shrewd intent of highlighting some mere disgust towards her Music, on the contrary, I love Carmen Consoli and even if, in a parallel and fanciful world, our Beautiful Country overflowed with Art from every pore and with the same quantity with which it currently produces caciocavallo in the food sector, I would still consider her the greatest, I don't need objects of comparison; I want rather to affirm that the-greatest-Italian-singer nowadays is a poor woman with not exactly flawless features, whose voice is considered by most to be repellent and deserving of ridicule, whose image never appears (and fortunately!) in any gossip magazine or at any party for VIPs and bigwigs, casually gossiping with the smug journalist, and only at her rare concerts before she flees due to her chronic shyness without signing any autographs for the fans who had waited there for hours and hours.
A person who could be defined as the exact opposite of those beautiful and trendy singers who gleefully occupy the stages surrounded by a myriad of young, whimpering girls who pretend to act crazy just to be touched (ahò, ladies, the Blue are neither the Pope nor the Messiah Liberator, Okai?). It seems strange but the Cantantessa, in silence, step by step, in the shadow of the extraordinary success of pseudo-singers, has earned what she has earned, although in the end it is a much leaner fruit compared with her merits, solely and exclusively with her Art. And this is more than admirable; however, it is sad to think that the collective opinion obviously influenced by those insipid and harmful preconceptions of the multitude, I mean the inept and obtuse multitude, focuses more on the character, beauty and - how do they call it? - style of an artist, unknowingly ignoring the very term used, "artist" indeed.

But the moralists, the pseudo-moralists, the anti-conformists, and the pseudo-anti-conformists have already driven us mad or affected something else with these speeches, so I don't want to drown entirely in the banality in which I'm already drowning; briefly, Un Sorso In Più is a very interesting and well-executed live performance; the text is the protagonist while more than others, the piano and the guitar sweetly accompany this journey through madness, illusion, love, and remorse.

More than others, I want to recall the romantic "Quello Che Sento" and "Amore di Plastica" (Dueparole), the unsettling "Matilde Odiava i Gatti" (L'Eccezione), and the nostalgic "In Bianco E Nero" (Stato di Necessità).
If you don't know her perfectly, I strongly recommend you have something of Carmen Consoli.
She is good, very good; and, damn it, this counts, and only this.