Francesco De Gregori
Prendere e lasciare

1996. De Gregori entrusts Corrado Rustici, a guitarist with substantial musical experience in the States, with the production of the new album.
The intention is clear. Attempt a "modernization" of the proposal that, however, respects the intimate nature of the poetics. Not easy, obviously, also because there are no real precedents in this sense. In fact, even while introducing new musical elements throughout his career, the foundational structure of De Gregori's production had remained essentially acoustic until that point.
In the end, the results are controversial but, at least in my opinion, Rustici wins the challenge.

From the very start ("Compagni di viaggio"), one can sense a full, slightly opaque sound and, if I may say, "technological." Even the piece (very beautiful) seems to align with the desire for an expressive change and narrates a couple's situation, oscillating between wakefulness and sleep, somewhat hallucinatory but definitely more linear than many other descriptions of our times.
The two following songs do not present particular attractions (though always endowed with a sound attire homogeneous with the general structure), even if, in particular, the piece "Tutto hanno un cuore" features some remarkable poetic moments. With "Un guanto", inspired by a series of lithographs by Max Klinger, the level rises. On an arpeggio with a vaguely country flavor entrusted to Francesco himself, unfolds the saga of a lost and found glove in a series of paired paintings, which culminates in a transcendent final image where Psyche and Cupid appear to consecrate the adventure. A bit redundant, perhaps, but definitely successful.
A bit clichéd "Jazz", especially in the arrangement, but pay attention to the melody. Very beautiful. And here comes the radio single chosen at the time of the release. "L'Agnello di Dio". I find the start of this track extraordinary. By stealing a beat from the normal rhythmic scanning, you suddenly find yourself catapulted into a tribal-technological context where the text's verses swoop down like gusts of wind. Tragic clichés of our time where many "sacrificed" move. A black and white tapestry that De Gregori found himself commenting on (justifying?) with Cardinal Tonini in a television broadcast. Big uproar, accusations of blasphemy, then all over. The piece remains, a great piece. After the delicate popular interlude of Stelutis Alpinis, two very precious gems.
"Baci da Pompei", a photograph of two lovers surprised by the volcano's eruption offering themselves to death strong in their bond (it seems Francesco was inspired by the vision of the famous plaster cast of the intertwined lovers of Pompeii). Rustici weaves a delicate and evocative guitar riff over which the amorous dialogue unfolds. Never proposed in concert, but really beautiful. Much noise also accompanied "Prendi questa mano zingara". A plagiarism accusation from the authors of the song "Zingara" (Sanremo 1969) regarding the initial verse (the same that titles the song). Let's overlook and delight instead with the first verse ("ora che il vento porta in giro le foglie e la pioggia fa fumare i falò") among the most emotional and fluent of Francesco. Perhaps the central part of this song allows for a "metaphysical" parentheses routine, but the melancholy of the piece is authentic. "Fine di un killer" is a successful nursery rhyme with "village" hints and the concluding "Battere e levare" a pleasant country piece that, in deliberate contrast with the musical simplicity, describes the desolate human condition.

As with many other albums, and not just ours, it can be said that not all tracks are of the same level. But what, in my opinion, is more relevant, apart from the observation that four great pieces find space, is the acknowledgment of a specific musical "hue."
The merit of this album is to be found in the uniformity of its sound imprint, that is, in that original tone that characterizes it and places it in a precise spot within De Gregori's discography, in this sense neither comparable nor comparable to others.
It is noteworthy how, conforming to the very nature of the album, Francesco's voice presents itself slightly rougher and less full than usual. I prefer to think that this happens not so much, as was suggested, as a consequence of a period of excesses of our subject, but as a voluntary expressive choice.
In conclusion, beyond the qualitative judgment on the individual tracks, a unique piece in the musical history of Francesco De Gregori.