Daniele Silvestri
Unò-Duè

Around the age of thirty (to quote Locasciulli) I suffered from depression: the bad kind, the one where you never get out of bed. It passed, as everything does, and right away "Salirò" came to mind, the mega hit with which Daniele Silvestri came in 14th at Sanremo 2002 and which was an incredible and totally unexpected success that very summer (along with the other single, "Sempre di domenica"). Yeah, that’s the way I understood that song, but, to tell the truth, I never actually figured out what it was about. They once asked the author, who replied as follows:

"[...] Yeah, what was it about? Every now and then someone tries to explain what they got from it, and I tell them they’re right. But in reality it was an unusual thing for me, a song built on the chorus, with the words following the music, building with the rise of the chords. I could say it’s a song about the archetype of hitting rock bottom and coming back up, but it’s above all a text made up of sounds."

"Unò-Duè" is the brightest and richest-sounding album in Silvestri’s entire career, a joy for the ears, for a good mood etc... etc... Even though many songs deal with serious, not-so-fun topics (see "Il mio nemico") almost all tracks have a sunny, playful beat, at times even a bit "cazzone" (goofy): it’s worth mentioning some collaborators, including Faso (on leave from the Elio e le Storie Tese) on bass; Mauro Pagani on violin; Demo Morselli on brass (Demo Morselli, poor guy, is a badass musician, reduced for years to appearing on some of the dumbest TV shows ever), and Maurizio Filardo on guitars. Recorded between Fregene and Rome, it’s the album that consecrates Silvestri and suddenly makes him a well-known, almost popular singer-songwriter, after years spent cultivating his own (still substantial and devoted) audience. That’s what happens when you go to Sanremo and make a splash: you become trendy.

The events in Genoa (the notorious G8) are the basis of "Il mio nemico" (personal note: back then I was in high school, and the events in Genoa were the reason for constant strikes, student takeovers, occupations: that song, in a way, became the soundtrack); "Dipendenze" is one of those songs that, when listened to today, takes on even greater meaning (I’d like to detach from everything, from the internet, from my cell phone: in 2002!); "Manifesto" has, in primis, a rhythmic force that’s disconcerting at first listen (Is this really a Silvestri song? Are we sure? Still, so good!).

Also well worth the ticket price are the fun (and very Apulian) "1.000 euro al mese", a new take on the famous little ditty by Gilberto Mazzi from the ’30s (it's worth noting that the euro had just come into circulation: January 1 of that year) and the ironic "La classifica" (you’re either first or you’re worth nothing). The last 5 songs form a kind of long suite, alternating between lazy, monotonous tracks ("Sabbia e sandali") and others where a powerful electric guitar riff appears, as if it were Vasco himself ("Mi interessa"), ending with a dedication to his recently deceased father and a recited ghost-track in which, using the famous canto of Dante’s Ulysses, he sums up life, work, endings, and new beginnings in the most intimate relationships.

The joys of fatherhood, then, grant Silvestri a lighter spirit and a fuller sound (compare it to his previous albums) and a totally unexpected popularity. Then again – and let’s be honest – not all 13 tracks on the record work equally well, some evaporate without leaving any trace ("Il colore del mondo"), others are far too "full" ("Mi interessa"), some start from beautiful premises but falter in their development ("L’autostrada", even though this last one has quite a few fans).

Sitting on a chic little sofa Silvestri multiplies into 7 clones: from here a new musical adventure begins, which will lead him (personal opinion) to make albums that are perhaps less refined but with greater radio impact (think of the next one, "Il latitante"): a good thing? a bad thing? Who knows: I like it.