•
Rating: At the top of my very personal, highly debatable, ranking of Italian singer-songwriters from the last 30-40 years, there are three Giants, let's say on the level of Pelé or Maradona: Franco Battiato, Fabrizio De André, and Francesco De Gregori. From my point of view, in their complex diversity, they are at the same level. Then, one, two or many steps below, all the others.
So: Battiato, De André, and De Gregori. Respectively born in 1945, 1940, and 1951. And unfortunately, De André has already left us.
On Wednesday, July 18, Battiato was performing in Vigevano. Not quite in my neighborhood, but Battiato is Battiato (and he's from '45, if you know what I mean...).
Attending a Battiato concert always gives me something (a sort of individual additional shock, a realignment of my octaves). And then you never know what to expect: with a career like his, the repertoire is virtually endless, and the options to fill those couple of hours are infinite. The undisputed class of the Sicilian, combined with the perfectionism that characterizes his live performances, makes the event appetizing. Here, the difference is clear with another Great I often follow live, De Gregori, whose concerts always seem heavily influenced by the state of mind of the Prince, swinging from exhilarating and engaging shows, despite that detached and slightly cold manner he has maintained in concerts for a while, to rather disappointing ones, dominated by a perceptible and disarming boredom. But beyond this, where De Gregori generally dylanistically reshapes his songs, changing their arrangement, even altering the lyrics, and singing sometimes well, sometimes extremely well, but other times poorly, depending on the evening, Battiato's live execution is instead perfect, and decisively faithful to the album version, with the commendable exception of La Cura, which in concert boasts a new arrangement, simpler and less "baroque," which I prefer to the album version.
It's with great curiosity (and a handful of inherent irremediable tardiness) that Wednesday evening I head to the Castle of Vigevano to attend the new concert of the Catanese. The location is beautiful: the stage and audience are set up in the inner courtyard of the castle, elevated above the splendid Piazza Ducale from which one accesses it. I miss the pianist, whoever that is, who pre-concerts. I arrive while he's soaking up some very polite applause, from which I deduce that being a bit late wasn't a tragedy. The area in front of the stage, for about a hundred meters, is cordoned off and reserved for the Sirs with Big Tickets. My friends and I, with our €22 ticket, settle at the back, since there's no more room on the sides: there is an impressive amount of people of all kinds and ages.
The stage is strange, in the center there's a chair with a microphone in front and a little table with drinks beside it. Behind the chair, a series of curtains. Our hero enters, takes a seat, unexpectedly starting the show with the delicate and subdued Haiku, from Caffè de la Paix. As the songs progress, each curtain rolls down one by one, revealing the musicians, whose names I don't recall and thus will metonymically identify by their respective instruments: classic piano, a string quartet, percussion, keyboards, electric guitar, bass, drums (the latter three constitute the FSC). Following, three delightful young ladies join the stage for the more upbeat numbers, forming the MAB along with the percussionist. MAB and FSC are the two very young groups playing on Battiato's latest album, Il Vuoto. There are many songs from this work (about which my opinion is far from established), but they are well distributed throughout the concert. The show is varied, alternating between moments where calmer, more meditative songs predominate, with a strong emphasis on piano and strings, and others where the faster tracks dominate, with the young accompanists unleashed. The repertoire is well selected: Battiato draws a bit from all over the immense sea of his production, not neglecting his most famous and loved pieces, especially towards the end and in the encores (E Ti Vengo A Cercare, La Cura, Shock In My Town, Strani Giorni, L'Animale, Cuccuruccucu, La Stagione Dell'Amore, Povera Patria, L'Oceano Di Silenzio, Stranizza D'Amuri, and many others), but he doesn't disdain some slightly hidden gems either (like the already mentioned Haiku, or Il Cammino Interminabile, from Ferro Battuto), and a couple of covers: Amore Che Vieni Amore Che Vai by De André and Ruby Tuesday by the Rolling Stones, the latter magically illuminated by a solitary and enormous shooting star.
Halfway through the concert Battiato leaves the stage to the MAB, who perform one of their rock pieces (not bad, the girls), then returns with his associate Manlio Sgalambro, hands him the microphone and takes up the guitar to create an extraordinary show within the show: two incredible pieces, sung by the philosopher: the first is titled, if I remember correctly, L'Anima Dolente Di Nietzsche, with Sgalambro detailing the medical report of the famous philosopher during his stay in the asylum (like: "he no longer walks, he crawls; drinks his urine; smears himself with his excrement; emits unpleasant sounds") over a backdrop of pure cacophonic distortion; the second piece talks about a certain Mrs. Brown, of millions of stars and galaxies, concluding more or less like this: "Mrs. Brown hopes that there is intelligent life in the Universe, because down here there ain't a damn thing."
In short, a great concert, played and sung as usual excellently, starting gently with slower pieces, gradually getting warmer and finally irresistible; so much that towards the end, we, the ragamuffins with the little ticket, overflow, breaking through and invading the red zone of the Lords with Big Tickets, crowding under the stage as if we were at Gods of Metal, bursting into dervish dances ascending to the Essence. Even Battiato's attitude parallels the progression of the concert, becoming progressively more communicative and less staid. The only small flaw, at least for me, is the conclusion of the first encore with the usual medley (Bandiera Bianca / Sentimiento Nuevo / Segnali Di Vita / Le Aquile), but fortunately, since we love him, we call him back out loudly, allowing him to redeem himself with the (complete) execution of Prospettiva Nevskji and Centro Di Gravità Permanente.
Many thanks and hats off to Battiato. And a piece of advice: anyone who has the chance to attend one of his concerts shouldn't miss it.
Loading comments slowly
