Warning - duplicate incoming. If you're spinning your wheels now, it's my fault, I know.
Sorry. Give low ratings, I don't really care. I'm humble enough,
calm, and unfortunately destroyed. You can do whatever you want. Thanks.
Well, saying I'm tired of living is an understatement; always the same old story.
The alarm clock rings in the morning when not even the damn rooster's crow echoes in the foggy tumult of the sky,
work hours that are almost impossible, commitments you'd avoid with much more happiness than a brain operation; Oh yes,
because nowadays in the press of society we're all in it, everyone indeed. Some differentiate themselves, they have their own ideas.
But always within the press.
And then what sense does it make to open one eye, then open the other while we're at it, to see what?
The open window now offers me nothing but the ephemeral beauty of the Venice lagoon,
and I drink my glass of red wine with a bitter glance; living, why?
If I had to choose an album that represents me, first I'd stay quiet for a few minutes,
then I'd pull out the dusty "Blonde On Blonde" by Dylan from the luggage; if I had to choose the
song that represents me best, I'd say without hesitation, always and still, "Lieber Honig" by Neu!
The voice that is nothing but the pinnacle of desperation a man can reach.
Sighs and voices drawn, ripped from the throat like laments.
But then I remember this album, "Tutti Morimmo A Stento", encapsulated in my memories of another life, trapped
in my ancient adolescent dreams, split in two by my desire to smile. I never made it.
I've always remained at the point where you find yourself with three, I say three, teeth sticking out and twisted lips.
More than a smile, a Mario Bava film.
There, because "Cantico Dei Drogati" is engraved in my veins.
The text carved in capital letters on every blank sheet I see. The memories it sends
back as pulses to the brain, the pain I've experienced in my past experiences.
Everything resurfaces, remaining incomprehensible. Arcane is everything, except our pain.
Quoting would be futile. Quoting would be harmful. Quoting would be an offense.
Just listen and nothing else; close those two eyes you have, accustomed to the daily filth.
Close those two eyes and listen to His Voice.
The desolation of the songs is unmatched. Enriched by his majestic irony, his sarcasm, his poetic genius,
his Voice that is on par with that of death that called him before his time, De André sets aside sweetness and leaves you like this,
alone, with those two bitter guitar chords, only to mind your own business, trying to make you understand that in the end, great joys are
as ephemeral as the water that flows perpetually in the river.
The lyrics inspired by Villon are not simple lyrics, but poems. Like a book, that when you open it begins
softly to send you the music of the "Leggenda Di Natale", the blissful unawareness of a child,
the two black eyes of the bad one; the tragedy transformed into anxiety, desolation (apologies for the repetition), and finally,
resignation.
Then, death. The denunciation of souls too sensitive to act alone.
Those poor souls, all with hollow faces and hands covered with wrinkles.
Like broom plants on the sides of roads, alone, desolate. "La Ballata Degli Impiccati",
the curse thrown by those who were never alive.
Indeed, making sense of this life is tough.
Only love will save us.
Worthy banal conclusion (but true as fire, water, and earth) for my thoughts on...on what?
"Philosophizing is just another way of being afraid"
Unusually clear this time?
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
07 Girotondo (03:07)
Se verrà la guerra, Marcondiro'ndero
se verrà la guerra, Marcondiro'ndà
sul mare e sulla terra, Marcondiro'ndera
sul mare e sulla terra chi ci salverà?
Ci salverà il soldato che non la vorrà
ci salverà il soldato che la guerra rifiuterà.
La guerra è già scoppiata, Marcondiro'ndero
la guerra è già scoppiata, chi ci aiuterà.
Ci aiuterà il buon Dio, Marcondiro'ndera
ci aiuterà il buon Dio, lui ci salverà.
Buon Dio è già scappato, dove non si sa
buon Dio se n'è andato, chissà quando ritornerà.
L'aeroplano vola, Marcondiro'ndera
l'aeroplano vola, Marcondiro'ndà.
Se getterà la bomba, Marcondiro'ndero
se getterà la bomba chi ci salverà?
Ci salva l'aviatore che non lo farà
ci salva l'aviatore che la bomba non getterà.
La bomba è già caduta, Marcondiro'ndero
la bomba è già caduta, chi la prenderà?
La prenderanno tutti, Marcondiro'ndera
siam belli o siam brutti, Marcondiro'ndà
Siam grandi o siam piccini li distruggerà
siam furbi o siam cretini li fulminerà.
Ci sono troppe buche, Marcondiro'ndera
ci sono troppe buche, chi le riempirà?
Non potremo più giocare al Marcondiro'ndera
non potremo più giocare al Marcondiro'ndà.
E voi a divertirvi andate un po' più in là
andate a divertirvi dove la guerra non ci sarà.
La guerra è dappertutto, Marcondiro'ndera
la terra è tutta un lutto, chi la consolerà?
Ci penseranno gli uomini, le bestie e i fiori
i boschi e le stagioni con i mille colori.
Di gente, bestie e fiori no, non ce n'è più
viventi siam rimasti noi e nulla più.
La terra è tutta nostra, Marcondiro'ndera
ne faremo una gran giostra, Marcondiro'ndà.
Abbiam tutta la terra Marcondiro'ndera
giocheremo a far la guerra, Marcondiro'ndà...
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Other reviews
By dying_sun
All of this, combined, forms a unique, unsurpassed masterpiece, matched only by other works of Fabrizio such as "Non al denaro...".
Maybe, IT IS A POETRY BOOK. Perhaps just the ravings of a madman, but one we have loved dearly.
By De-cano
From a young age, Faber very wisely understood what life was, how terrible life was, and he described it in his own way in his songs.
"People, lest in the last minute you are overtaken by late remorse for never having had pity... know that death watches over you... like a farmer watches the growing grain until it is ripe for the scythe."
By Lord.Galamoth
This album, both in the stunning poems recited by De André’s baritone voice and in the redundant and baroque arrangements, is the darkest and most desperate thing ever recorded up to now.
We are facing one of the greatest masterpieces of modern music of our time: it is an album truly worthy in all respects, and at least one listen among friends is a must.
By hypnosphere boy
"'Tutti morimmo a stento' is absolutely the first concept album produced in Italy, as well as the first of four thematic albums by Fabrizio de André."
"The unrest and dramatic tension come from the awareness of death crossing life, restoring human dignity and beauty to death through poetic intuition."
By $Maudit$
"Tutti morimmo a stento represents a journey into the desolation of humanity, sentenced to death, drug addicts, pedophiles, and shaken children."
"It should make us reflect a lot, anyway, one of the masterpieces left to us by this formidable singer-songwriter."