Enzo Jannacci
Vengo anch'io no tu no

For a while, I will return to the roots, talking about the works of our dear Enzo, which no one has yet discussed and which deserve much more attention than what everyone gives them. Last time, I talked about "La mia gente," an album in which all the disappointment Jannacci was feeling at that time (50 years ago... wow!) comes out. Today we go back a few years, precisely to the spring of '68: Enzo Jannacci is at the peak of fame thanks to the 45 of Vengo anch'io no tu no, which quickly becomes an absolute hit and the self-titled album is high on the hit parade. In fact, there is little to be surprised about: Vengo anch'io no tu no is a refined album, excellently written and arranged and (by the standards of the time) commercial, but without losing everything that Jannacci did before.

To better understand how Jannacci's evolution unfolded, let's look at the song that better than others combines Jannacci's musical past with the style he embodies in this album, La sera che partì mio padre: a poignant song, arranged in a minimalistic way that does not overshadow the message, which is to tell the horrors of war through the deeds of the father (a fundamental figure in Enzo's life) who died in war; the theme is certainly not new, already two years ago with "Sei minuti all’alba," Jannacci talked about war, only this time Enzo does it with a new verve in which he tends to exacerbate the dramatic side of the story (besides singing it in Italian, perhaps making it more accessible from a lyrical perspective). The rest of the album continues along these lines, refining his songs without losing his poetics but actually managing to find the perfect balance between drama and fun that he had never achieved before. Not to mention that the Milanese dialect is reduced to the essentials, almost disappearing in this handful of tracks, which greatly helps to fully grasp the message (without taking anything away from the Milanese pieces, of course!).

Plucking from the tracks, those that immediately stand out are Ho visto un re and the title track, which are part of the more amusing vein of the album: the former hides a strong social critique that people seemed to have grasped, given that in '68 it was sung in the squares used for protest purposes; the song had its fortune, but at the same time, it was brutally censored (remember the Canzonissima case, which I have already talked about?). The latter, as I've already said, has become a hit and continues to be so even today and the funny thing is that no one ever understood it, taking it as a nonsensical game when it actually hides the story of a marginalized person (like the bum with tennis shoes) who is continually rejected by the group, by the masses, who continue to mock him even when his funeral is celebrated. In short, more than just a nonsensical game.

But if we have to find the masterpiece, as they say, the choice falls on Giovanni telegrafista, which I consider not only the most beautiful of the album but also Jannacci's best song: it's the story of Giovanni, a telegraphist to whom no particular characteristics are given, who falls in love with a girl named Alba and he searches far and wide for her only to find out she got married. The descriptive ability of this text is something unique, it can be interpreted both as a surreal and nonsensical story and as a sad story, and this is one of Enzo's great merits, making people laugh and cry using the same words and leaving the audience with the role of deciding what it means. A smoky song, where anything is possible, even being the protagonist: in fact, Giovanni has no particulars, he is just any man and it is easy to empathize with this character.

I would also like to point out the presence of La mia morosa la va alla fonte placed in the middle of the album. It plays a fairly marginal role in the album despite being written together with Dario Fo, but there are events surrounding it that make it interesting: one of these is precisely the famous story that also involves Via del Campo by De André, but surely most of you already know it: Faber took the music from "La mia morosa" for his "Via del Campo" without asking for the consent of the two authors, which Fo did not like, as he did not approve of the use of his music for De André's song ("the song is poetic enough," declared Fo). Jannacci, however, took it with more philosophy, resolving this misunderstanding over time. In fact, he even appreciated it, given that in 2001 he reinterpreted "Via del Campo," partly also to pay homage to Faber.

This album also includes the first covers of Brazilian songs, which will often return in the future with 9 di sera and La costruzione: the first one I will talk about is Pedro Pedreiro, a song that despite being written by Chico Barque, Enzo manages to make entirely his own. The story of Pedro Pedreiro falls into the Jannaccian theme of the marginalized, with Pedro waiting for the tram full of thoughts racing like roaring horses in his head. La disperazione della pietà, a poem written by Vinicius de Moraes, takes on a totally opposite register: in summary, the song is a series of prayers for the Lord to have mercy on human beings, taking for the first time the "list" model that will be the skeleton of a great track like Quelli che. But Giovanni telegrafista also has Brazilian origins, as the text is the translation of "Jolao," a poem written by Cassiano Ricardo, which I have already spoken about previously.

However, the album does have a couple of tracks that are thrown in as fillers, starting with Hai pensato mai, a song by Lino Toffolo that in Jannacci's version reeks terribly of rhetoric and is obviously put in the mix to be the classic commercial track (for the time, mind you). Then there's Domenica 24 marzo, which isn't exactly bad but is placed just after "La sera che partì mio padre," and since both songs talk about war, it doesn't hold up to comparison, resulting less personal than the previous one and also losing much of that engaging melancholy. Finally, La ballata del pittore, despite having good ideas and a good story, does not fully convey the message, almost a minor "Giovanni telegrafista" I would dare say (considering that it is a piece not even written by Enzo, like other minor tracks of the album, it makes one realize that perhaps it is better to leave a blank slate to Jannacci sometimes).

However... one last piece is still missing, the grand finale that fully sums up what Enzo wanted to say all this time. Non finirà mai can be considered in two ways, looking at the piece in a romantic key: Enzo shows us what love is for him, a cherry without a stone, a chick without bones, a story without an end, to ultimately transform everything he gives his love into an eternal promise, into a story which despite being full of defects, promises never to end. Or this song can be a statement of intent that Enzo promises to music: things that people consider incomplete, yet turn out to be songs suitable for standing the test of time. This is what Enzo tried to do in his career, to create songs that would not be forgotten and that could accompany people forever.

Enzo, in his life, created endless stories, and I want to say thank you for never deciding to write an end, for not putting a full stop to his creativity, and for continuing for more than 50 years to gift listeners authentic gems. And I believe I am pretty sure in saying that if Enzo had lived another 50 years, he would have continued to churn out other great songs. Long live Jannacci, always!