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Rating: In Valtellina, just like in Scotland, there are more castles than people, but for once, this worked in my favor: indeed, Battiato filmed some scenes of his latest movie "Musikanten" in one of the many ancient and, apparently, very beautiful palaces of Sondrio, and was convinced, God only knows by which good soul, to gift an end-of-summer concert.
In the festively adorned square, everyone is here for the most IN event: the crème de la crème of the one and only true crème of the rich folk around here! Cool! Even we young alternative folks are allowed to attend the event.
At the entrance, I am attacked by some folks wanting to inundate me with flyers; I don't pay any attention to them, but then from a long distance, with my bionic power-plus vision, I read: "Giovanni Lindo Ferretti November 5th Frassati Theater"
. I then head towards the flyers people exclaiming: "But I love you guys!" I fill up with papers and little flyers, happy as an Easter egg sold at Ikea. Finally, I can roam through the crowd with a Guinness in one hand and my copy of "Patriots" in the other, and looking at the album cover, I realize that Franco is not only one of the most interesting characters I've ever come across, but he's also very, very handsome: and when I say handsome, I mean handsome, not charming, interesting, charismatic, intelligent, blah blah blah...
My insensitive friends, however, say that he's very, very ugly! Ungrateful!!
The evening is opened by Sgalambro, the cadence of his words is measured, and a sense of wisdom spontaneously emerges that involves everyone, even we young alternatives.
Battiato opens by paying homage to De André with "La canzone dell'amore perduto", halfway through the concert, he also remembers Endrigo with "Aria di neve". The rest is a long ride through his most well-known songs: "La cura", "La stagione dell'amore", "E ti vengo a cercare", and a superb interpretation of "L'era del cinghiale Bianco" where even those sitting in the front row couldn't help but stand up to dance and thus crease their splendid sparkling outfits, while my alcohol level finally stabilizes.
Finally, the alienated man, who insists on carrying his 40 years as an artist as if nothing happened and occasionally closes his eyes while singing, immerses himself in a formless dance, decides to stop time and definitively destroy what remains of my emotional state; from afar, on a bare stage, he intones "Prospettiva Nevski" and does so with attention, care, and regard, slicing my stomach in two, winning forever all my devotion..."...and my teacher taught me how difficult it is to find the dawn within the dusk..."
Thank you, Franco, I will never betray you, it's not your most beautiful song, but it's the one I cherish the most.
At the end, Battiato greets the audience and the square empties, I head toward the restaurant where our man is entertaining, stopped at the climax by a man dressed in white who, with a metallic voice, asks me if I can kindly offer the invitation; I would gladly smack him with a copy of one of my favorite albums, "Patriots", but I prefer to appear as the foolish young alternative and ask: "NO, at Ikea they wouldn't let me buy it". The robot man freely convinces himself of my stupidity and can politely throw me out, but first, like a true gentleman, he explains that the invitation is a matter of the authorities. The metallic word "Authorities" is now one of my favorites! I head back home happy, happy, as if I'd been to Ikea, the thing that amazed me the most throughout the two hours of the concert is the absolute professionalism and kindness with which Battiato offers himself to his audience, an artist who has already said and given so much manages to keep his talent young like few others, and I think it's necessary to recognize his greatness.
At home, while I feel the night swell with rain, I recite, reading on the wall: "Oh Great Guide who sustains us in our solitary cause..."
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