Francesco De Gregori
Catcher In The Sky

THE REVIEW

It was September 1990, we had the magical nights of the (disappointing) World Cup behind us, and everyone was humming a song that anyone over 25 should remember without trouble, the one by the Bennato/Nannini duo, which must have brought a little bad luck, given the results.
 My corneas still hold the memory of the unwatchable videoclip where Giannissima reached her peaks, never to be replicated, of kitsch, and Bennato pretended to play the guitar "like a grater" as if he were in a black metal band. How can one forget all this?   In my rescue came il Principe, not with a new album, but three, and all live. A quick tram ride brought me that Saturday afternoon from the Festa dell'Unità area to downtown Modena, where Fangareggi still is; there I evaluated the three cassette tapes (such nostalgia!), weighed the song titles, and opted to purchase "Catcher In The Sky". Even today, that cassette (later replaced by the CD) is the bearer of indelible memories... I see myself with glasses listening to "Il Signor Hood", marveled by the evocative power emitted by a man with his guitar and his unfathomable words... I remember the ogre and the legalized mafia, years before they actually appeared in double-breasted suits on TV... I remember the teacher rebuked by the students, and his "infinite logs"... I remember the cannon woman, in my opinion never, and never again, so beautiful... I remember Nino, who also hung his shoes on the peg but now laughs in the face of all the Moggi in the world... I remember Pasolini hovering over the lilies in the fields... I remember a ship heading towards its sad destiny to the rhythm of calypso... I remember Rubber Butt, sitting by the side of the road, crying for what America has become...  It was September 1990, I was fifteen, and if someone had asked me who I wanted to become when I grew up, I would have answered "that gentleman with the sunglasses reflected in the mirror".