Enzo Jannacci
Vengo anch'io no tu no

Another Jannacci-style review. Now, I don't want to intimidate anyone, but I really enjoy talking about Jannacci, and I believe I will continue to do so. But let's get to the point.

Starting from the '70s, precisely from 1975 onwards, Jannacci began to conceive music not just as a bunch of 45-rpm records put together to form a disc, but as a real album, with a beginning and an end (that absolute masterpiece "Quelli che" made him realize this). The album in question, "Vengo anch'io no tu no", from 1968, is instead a collection of singles released, some successfully, others less so, in the months leading up to the album's release. Not that it's a bad thing, think of Battisti's "Emozioni". And here Jannacci puts together a semi-masterpiece (for me one of his 5 best albums), because the 45s in question are striking gems.

Side A is the most cheerful, or almost. It starts with the heavily censored "Ho visto un re" (the one where you have to stay cheerful because our crying hurts the king, the rich, and the cardinal, they become sad if we cry), which obviously Rai rejected but became a success anyway (well, the lyrics are by Dario Fo). Just as censored was "Vengo anch'io no tu no", played with an intentionally dissonant tone, and it achieved tremendous success despite the last two stanzas never being recorded, and the reason, upon reading them, is easily understood:

«We could all join the mercenaries
can I come too? No you can't
down in the Congo with Mobutu to enlist
then shoot at blacks with machine guns
each head earns a penny for civilization.
I’m coming too ...

We could all go to Belgium, to the mines
Can I come too? No you can't
to see what happens if grisou explodes;
coming out as beautiful corpses in elevators
wrapped in the tricolor flag»

The other masterpiece is "Giovanni telegrafista," as melancholy as few others. It's a translation of a Brazilian song by Cassiano Ricardo titled "Joao". The fleeting love seen through the eyes of a poor, humble telegraphist who will regret that love for his entire life. It moves you, deeply.

Following are other little gems, among which I'd like to mention "Pedro Pedreiro" with music by Chico Barque de Hollande, but especially "La mia morosa la va alla fonte," whose music De André used to compose "Via del campo" (it’s a song that was already three years old when it was included in this album).

Side B is deep, harsh, at times desperate. And desperate is the song that announces it, one of Jannacci's best (but one of the best of all time), "Il giorno che partì mio padre" (also redone by Mina in 1977). An anti-military song par excellence, it tears the heart from the drama of the event and for that finale ("the day I leave I hope it's Christmas") it's something to stand up for, to applaud, or to cry, and to think that someone as great as Jannacci in Italy (perhaps) we didn't deserve him (a little personal controversy).

Also worth noting is "La disperazione della pietà," a cover of a song by Vinicious de Moraes, which seems to anticipate the list of "Quelli che":

Lord, have mercy on those who take the tram
and in the long journey dream of cars, apartments,
but also have mercy on those who drive cars,
challenging the crowded city, full of sleepwalkers.
Have much mercy on the thin and poetic boy,
who owns only his ribs and his short girlfriend,
but, but have more mercy on the fearless, strong sportsman
who goes on fighting, rowing, swimming, to death.

There is also "Hai pensato mai" written by Lino Toffolo (does anyone remember Lino Toffolo?) and the very delicate "Non finirà mai" with its kernels, chicks, and children (it will be redone by Jannacci himself in his last album, "L’artista," from 2013), a song of love, but desperate, with a hopeful and liberating finale.

A masterpiece. They may be just 45s put together to form an album, but well, let's have more of them. (Almost) perfect (there are two, three songs that never convinced me, which I didn't mention, preventing me from giving it 5 stars).