Donatella Rettore
Brivido Divino

It was an analog late summer in the '70s: at school, the ultimate rock bands of the time were Kiss, Sex Pistols, Ramones... But at the typical parties of that period, apart from Kiss because of "I Was Made for Lovin' You", rock was strictly banned, lest you face racial segregation; I had to buy a gift for my cousin's loud girlfriend for her birthday, and I didn't know what record to give her: I asked her what she preferred, and she gave me three options: Zero, Camerini, or Rettore. 

That branch of Lake Como... On a lazy and long summer afternoon, one of those unforgettable ones that seem never-ending, the full moon peered at us on the horizon, its celestial body like a dress of phosphorescent pumice: a goddess tired of dragging slow tides... I preferred to study the Physical Venus, and I was clinging to Antonella, on the grass of the condominium garden, a turreted citadel like an Atlante castle, abundant with woods, fairies, and illusions... And she was my fairy... I asked her advice on the gift to the monstrous cousin, and she unabashedly sang to me perdo i sensi lentamente come tra le braccia di un amante... I was in love with Antonella, but at the end of summer, she returned to Milan and disappeared like a splendid star splendida splendente, obscured by the dark clouds of the approaching '80s: I bought the 33 rpm of Rettore for myself, and I handed a Camerini cassette bought at Porta Portese to the loud-cousin.

The record was a shocking pink vinyl and matched the hair of the highly bleached Rettore. Her beautiful hair with 40 volumes of oxygen and that hairstyle preceded the female android of Blade Runner by many years.

The album boasts excellent arrangements with renowned session musicians of that era, like Stefano Pulga, De Piscopo on drums, and besides the title tracks, the whole work is imbued with a certain funky-rock taste that was all the rage back then. For her, the same goes as for the late-glam Cugini di Campagna: the ambiguous image, on the verge of trash, already from the masculine name, androgynous appearance, and diva-like attitude... she, the "Rettoressa", also won the Telegattone. Among the songs, all very beautiful, I highlight La Mia Più Bella Canzone D'Amore, with lyrics about a story between a master and a slave (!), similar themes on various sexual servitudes with Aquila Nera, Eroe, the theme of ambivalence in Divino Divina. Rettore, is also the author of the lyrics here. After 2 indie albums and a successful single in Germany, Carmela, the Venetian singer-songwriter reached her longed-for success after surgeries and weight loss treatments  together with her mentor, Claudio Rego.

One day in Rome I met her in a bar on Via Ottaviano, the Rettore, about three years ago, who was wandering alone through shops, and she frightened me... she must have been tall, high heels included, about 1.95 meters with lips like at 100 atmospheres, she seemed like a bizarre fish-drag queen. I can't understand this obsession with big lips... like the horrible techno-trans remix of Splendido splendente. Her hair, however, was intact.

Driven by Leopardi-like obsessions, I then thought back to Antonellina, when she sang Rettore to me while I was star-gazing on her budding woman's body... But she disappeared like a fleeting meteor, or more for that beautiful mane she had, a comet... I wonder how she wears that hair now, if her skin is still as white as that Moon; so many years have passed. Now I understand E.A. Poe's story, Berenice, about a persistent obsession with certain details, typical of melancholy. She used to tell me, don't play Space Invaders too much, there will come a day when you'll see aliens for real. And that evening, the LAST NIGHT, when she left forever, in front of a door of those  suburban buildings, seeking  some intimacy in those foyers dotted with UFO-neon lights, she said to me with wet eyes: you'll see you'll even forget Antonella...

Ricordati di me, ricordati i vestiti, le stoffe le collane, ricordati l'amore sopra il letto del fiume, di tutte la mia testa è proprio quella, brilla, brilla, nessuno mai direbbe è la più bella/ e tu che cerchi di brillare, ma il lago delle ombre sembra un mare, che ammazza la tua luce, e l'ultimo tuo raggio va a dormire. Ricordati di me, ricordati l'estate...(Rettore, Brilla, side 2, last song)

V.R.