Fiorella Mannoia
Canzoni per parlare

Few people know, yet Fiorella Mannoia debuted in the music world at the tender age of 18. The album, now completely forgotten, was "Mannoia Foresi & Co.". In the meantime, she divided her time between odd jobs and occasional appearances at Cinecittà (for a while, she was Monica Vitti’s official stand-in). She even acted in a third-rate Italian western, "And on the Third Day Arrived the Crow".
She returned to recording albums in 1982, but this time she was a bit more mature. 28 years carried with elegance: she wasn't divinely beautiful, but she had her charm as an eternal "pischella". Strongly wanting her in one of his songs was the unforgettable Pierangelo Bertoli, and the song was "Pescatore".

Suddenly, success opened up before her: in 1981 she took part in Sanremo and sang "Caffè nero bollente" and immediately captured the attention of the less distracted audience present at the music festival. These were fervent years, Fiorella Mannoia recorded a substantial series of albums in which, always with great charm, she alternated certain successes ("Come si cambia", "Sorvolando Eilat") with less convincing tracks ("Momento delicato"). The great opportunity came in 1987. By then a veteran at the Sanremo Festival, she confidently took the Ariston stage and sang "Quello che le donne non dicono". The song, written by Enrico Ruggeri, catapulted her to number one in the charts. It was a great moment, one where it was permissible to dare and where, with a touch of transgression, one could even sermonize.

In 1988, "Canzoni per parlare" was released, the most intense and successful album of Fiorella Mannoia's career. Besides the aforementioned "Quello che le donne non dicono" (for many an anthem, for others a great song), Mannoia gave her best performing "Le notti di maggio", a touching and wonderful song written for her by Ivano Fossati. There is all the art, and a little something more, in this surprising chart-topping album: there is the desire and the grit from Mannoia to justly be called an artist and not just a singer, there are sad and tense tracks (but never whiny) and there are suggestive music, eclectic lyrics, all with that apparently slightly worn-out air of Italian song, but with an extra touch of magic and delicacy.
But above all, there is the crystal-clear and bright voice of a Fiorella Mannoia evidently at ease singing verses like: "E dalle macchine per noi, i complimenti del playboy, ma non li sentiamo più se c'è chi non ce li fa più". The same dramatic tension that characterized, for many years, Mia Martini: two women, basically, as similar as they are deeply different.
"Canzoni per parlare" is, in a certain sense, Fiorella Mannoia's masterpiece. Besides the songs already mentioned, we should at least remember "Fino a fermarmi" (author Ron), "I miei amici stanno al bar" and "La lettera che non scriverò mai" (authors, of both, Enrico Ruggeri and Riccardo Cocciante). The least interesting track, curiously, is written by her partner, as well as her producer, Piero Fabrizi, "Poverangelo" neither convinces nor fascinates. But Mannoia, at least during this phase of her career, is capable of convincing even with a simple vocalization, and not everyone can afford such a luxury.

Today, after a decade (the Nineties) spent between trivialities and very harmonious tracks, she is a star in the stifling world of live performances. Always touring and performing concerts, she hasn’t recorded an original album since 2001 (the album was "Fragile"). In 2002, she embarked on a disappointing artistic tour with some old friends (Ron, Pino Daniele, and De Gregori) and released, two years ago, a double live album where she reinterprets many songs of some great (or supposedly great) artists including Manu Chao and Paolo Conte. But hearing her sing "Metti in circolo il tuo amore" by Ligabue, honestly, is sad.