Francesco Guccini
Guccini Live Collection

THE REVIEW

I have decided to review "Guccini Live Collection" for two simple reasons: the first is that all other Guccini's albums have already been reviewed, the second is because I want to show everyone what Guccini truly IS today, not how others want to present him to us. In fact, my aim is not to review this particular album, but the entire life of a former songwriter, since that can be the only way to define him. I'm asking myself a question: did anyone need a collection of Guccini's live tracks? Seriously, did anyone feel the need? I would like to know. Back in '98 when I went to purchase this album, years have passed since that tragic mistake, I was already quite apprehensive about the title: "Guccini Live Collection" - a more tacky and predictable title he certainly couldn't have chosen. At the record store, I mustered up the courage, grabbed the CD (whose price wasn't even low) and went to the checkout, where a cashier was waiting for me, looking at me with a disgusted expression. The cover wasn't even that bad, with the title written on tape and beneath a photo of Guccini from at least ten years earlier; furthermore, by reading the back you could see a wide assortment of tracks (nothing new, eh!) spanning from '66 to the last album released then. And then they were two disks, not one! A whole two disks of my favorite songwriter, I thought when I read about the album's release in a magazine. In fact, until that moment, I had great esteem for Guccini. Now I'll continue with my story. As soon as I got home, I put the album into the player, and it started (after a few seconds of the usual applause to make the album seem longer) the usual, stale, heavy version of "Canzone per un'amica". You immediately notice the inappropriate arrangement for the song, with cheerful saxophones popping in when Guccini says phrases like: "when life has fled", "but death met you." Listening to the track, you're assaulted by off-key notes and misplaced tones, and finally, the track ends with a fade-out. A FADE-OUT! When I listened to it for the first time, I thought "there must be an error" or "what the heck have they done?" but after hearing the other tracks, I realized that ugly fade-out was present in the other tracks too. Alright, enough talking about fade-outs, come on, and let's muster up some courage trying not to fall into the grotesque (a practice at which the songwriter in question excels).

It seems logical to me that I will not dwell on all the tracks, otherwise reading the review would become as painful as listening to the album in question. So, I'll skip the second and third track, which, in addition to being beautiful pieces, are not among the worst in terms of execution. We move on to "Il vecchio e il bambino". I've always liked the piece and it has always moved me, BUT NOT IN THIS VERSION. Listening to it here, it only moves me the fact that I've thrown away more than 30,000 lire for this album! A whine. It sounds like old Francesco has asthma because he says three words per minute, turning listening into suffering. "Quattro stracci" follows: here Guccini, having exhausted his poetic vein, has moved on to the pathetic one. The next song is "Cyrano", which is sung here without a voice. But there's worse. The seventh is "Venezia", nice even in this version. But unfortunately, the album doesn't just contain seven tracks, as our Francesco has gone wild. It contains TWENTY-SEVEN!
I'll skip directly to the tenth, "Via Paolo Fabbri 43". Unfortunately, here Guccini enjoys turning indirect speeches into direct ones, even changing intonation to make us understand that at the moment, the father speaks ("the pension is really important") or the mother ("a graduate matters more than a singer"). I leave you to imagine the result. "Autogrill" isn't too bad. "L'isola non trovata": here Guccini shows us his proverbial habit of changing pieces to add mistakes or worsen them significantly (see also Via Paolo Fabbri and L'avvelenata). In this case, Francesco belts out "ne parlan piano i marinari" instead of "marinai". The fact itself wouldn't be so serious if it weren't for the fact that marinari is an adjective (let's not delve into any other comment)... Moreover, perhaps not everyone knows that the piece itself was blatantly copied from the poem (of far more epic proportions than this album) by Guido Gozzano "La più bella".
I'll skip "Asia" mortuary chamber version and "Un altro giorno è andato" soporific version to move on to the second CD, which opens with "Eskimo", one of my favorite tracks. Too bad this is the infamous "funeral version" which Guccini has liked so much lately. I'll skip a pitiful "Auschwitz", a decent "Canzone delle osterie di fuori porta" and another bit of rubbish to get to "Due anni dopo". Here Vince Tempera (or whoever) enjoyed pulling out an absolutely unsuitable arrangement for the piece, taking away all the depth of the story. Francesco also omits the usual falsettos present in the namesake album (not a big loss, to be honest)!
The other standout tracks are "L'avvelenata" where Guccini makes a gross grammatical error (luckily he corrects himself!), the usual "La locomotiva" and the last two tracks that attempt the nostalgia effect: "Statale 17" and "Noi non ci saremo".

Now I move to the conclusion (or brief summary).
Let's admit it. Francesco is no longer of the age to make albums.
He's gone. Finished. Nothing remains of him but a big faded figure. Okay, in the past he was a legend, a great legend; no one denies that. Just like it would be impossible to deny that this album is rubbish. It's a mess. Literally. Guccini is now tiresome with his croaky voice and his stupid soft "r" sound. He no longer has the dopey voice of yesteryear (Folk Beat n 1) nor the whining voice of the following years.
It's sad that a character who was such a great figure in the past today is only a shadow of what he was and lives off past glories. You can tell from the cover. Have you noticed what image he used? It must be at least forty years old! FRANCESCO! What are you doing to us? Such tricks are deceitful... Anyway - to inform you - the trickery doesn't end here. Francesco attempts the nostalgia effect here too by inserting old pieces remade with music (usually poor) written by someone else (maybe Vince Tempera?) - but this effect has now become tiresome. We've had enough of old pieces played mediocrely and redone even worse. Then the lyrics are the same nonsense! "Morte nera e secca"?! DRY?! Francesco, the only dry thing you have is the basement! ("Libera nos domine", fortunately, this isn't in the album).

Sorry for the digression. In short, save your money for another Guccini album (even if you find a discounted version at €14.90, don't be fooled, they discount it because they can't sell them!) preferably one before '98.