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Rating: This book will capture the attention of few.
Indeed, with its one hundred sixty-nine (169) pages, it doesn't leave any particular reasons to arouse broad interest in its path. Old musical contexts, old social contexts, atmospheres of yesteryears. These are the characteristic elements that will accompany the reading on this journey back to a Naples just emerging from the war. A city ready to be conquered, in every sense, by the Americans; now a symbol of victory and freedom. If you are already looking for a book that contains these elements, it's the book for you. If these elements intrigue you, it's the book for you, and it will take you into a new world through the stories of an old world, animated by exciting characters.
Only a Southern enthusiast of Jazz - like the writer - could fall into the trap of Diego Librando, the author of the book. Librando tries to take the reader, with a faithful socio-historiographical chronicle, into the Neapolitan social and musical reality of the time, certainly not sparing a rapid overview on a national scale that will lead up to the '50s. The book roots its foundation starting from the controversial relationship between the fascist regime and Jazz. In reality, in the name and in the person of Mussolini, no incisive and heartfelt campaign against Jazz was enacted, although it's widely thought otherwise. Also because the Duce had to reckon with what Jazz was beginning to represent for some members of his family: his son Romano's fate is known, leading him to become one of the most appreciated Jazz pianists in Italy, but it seems that another son of the Duce, Vittorio, also remained fascinated by the Jazz winds arriving from America.
On the other hand, while the Duce's sons could enjoy such indulgence, the infamous MinCulPop of the fascist regime began waging battle throughout the rest of Italy with decrees, attempting to curb the phenomenon, accused of "damaging the dignity and prestige of the authorities and morality." In response, the password for orchestras and record companies was to Italianize foreign names and titles to bypass the problem. It took little: Louis Armstrong became "Luigi Bracciaforte," Benny Goodman was passed off as "Beniamino Buonuomo," the famous song "Blue Moon" presented as "Luna Malinconica," and so on. Moreover, some illustrious personalities in the world of art music stepped onto the field, aiming to delegitimize the phenomenon.
This is the case of Pietro Mascagni, who, slave to his spite, began to talk about the phenomenon as "barbarism, opium, and cocaine." But the phenomenon was spreading, Italy's dance halls were full, the Charleston fever was back and widespread, and characters like Gorni Kramer and Pippo Barzizza, true pioneers of orchestral Jazz in Italy, received vast acclaim with their respective formations. Although Mussolini previously established a tacit relationship, the situation inevitably degenerated with Italy's declaration of war in June '40. Ban on American dances and music, closure of nightclubs, and xenophilia labeled with a sinister "demo-Jewish-Plutonic-Masonic." However, clandestinely and in secrecy, Jazz continued to spread even during the war years.
But it will be thanks to the landing of the Allied troops in 1943, the real and predictable turning point in history. The source of all this began to take root in the Italian social and cultural fabric, coinciding with the peninsula's ascent. New air, of freedom and victory, even through music. In an intense and continuous propaganda effort, explicitly desired by the Allied Commander of Naples Charles Poletti, the Americans turned on the radios in Italians' homes again - thanks to the "Psychological Warfare Branch" department -, reopened their Night Clubs, now turned into clubs for U.S. troops, and started spreading the famous "V-Disc," or victory discs, the winning music. 905 records produced over a time span from 1943 to 1947. Thus, Lennie Tristano, Frank Sinatra, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, Woody Herman found themselves alongside food rations in American stores.
Many Jazz stars passed through Naples, with their performances, in the explicit attempt to make the troops feel at home. In some ways, this book is the musical answer to "Forcella - La Casbah di Napoli" by Vittorio Paliotti. A beautiful book that offers a cross-section of small and large life stories and the underworld of the famous Neapolitan district, especially its war and post-war history. Naples thus becomes, thanks to the still massive American presence, an important reference point for Jazz in Italy in the immediate post-war; certainly the most important in the South, even if the scene didn't yet have defined characteristics. Soon things began to change for the worse. After the initial fervor, from the desire for moral and material reconstruction of the post-war period, the strong social presence of Christian Democrats reappeared, casting a certain gloom even over musical culture, in the name of morality and integrity to be safeguarded.
These are the years of the politically correct amplified by a slightly evolved Sanremo Festival. Not evolved barely born... Nevertheless, elsewhere, Fred Buscaglione (formerly a proud fighter of Swing on the Turin front) continued to convey lightness and groove, two important events were happening on the Neapolitan front: the birth of the first city Jazz Club, the (CNJ - Circolo Napoletano del Jazz, year 1954) and the rise of a pianist with an appealing proposal, formed in the Eritrean Night since 1937 and returned to Italy with a bag of Swing ready to fuse with Neapolitan melody and doses of typically Neapolitan irony. It was Renato Carosone, a hero of the time and not only of that time. Unfortunately, the enthusiasm was definitively decreasing at the end of the '50s, which barely held Naples anchored to Jazz.
Many protagonists of that season sought musical fortune in other cities. At the end of the book, Librando gives us, in addition to photos of the protagonists, exclusive interviews with many of the protagonists of the time, which represent the true historical richness of the book. From Mario Schiano, the first in Italy who understood - in this regard, he recounts a very amusing anecdote - even if unknowingly the language of Free, to Gegè Munari, drummer still in the saddle. From Lino Liguori, nephew of Gegè Di Giacomo, Carosone's likable drummer, to Renzo Arbore, who was musically formed precisely in the Naples of that time.
Arbore, somewhat the continuator of Carosone's discourse, also somewhat represents that fateful bridge between America and Naples, that bridge traveled by those who want to play the part of an American, but which finds its roots in a meeting of civilizations and music long before, that is from the Italian diaspora of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Fascinating discourses that tie Italy, the United States, and Jazz. From birth onwards. Then comes James Senese, a niro son of a war mother. James seems like the synthesis of the book... As a friend jokingly imitating Neapolitan would say: "vulisse 'a sunà almeno 'na vota 'o mese comm' a James Senese!" But that's another story...
Buy it.
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