Freddie del Curatolo
Esilio Volontario

I listen to this chorus: "The earth shakes, the earth shakes but there’s no problem" (from "La pianura di Cortina"), then this verse: "The house of sand collapses, I’m stuck between fridge and sofa/the house never checked collapses but I have the iPhone in my hand" (from Venezuela) and realizing that they weren’t written today or yesterday, but a year ago, they speak of us, of this country in ruins and of our indifference towards what Giorgio Gaber (truly Freddie's mentor) called "your chaos".
Of Gaber, the Milanese artist who moved to Africa ten years ago, after the successful debut album "Nel regno degli animali", has the gift of Cassandra-hood, while the sharp irony seems to have been taken from that Rino Gaetano of whom he was a reviewer in a beautiful book ("If anyone will ever understand Rino Gaetano").
Because this atypical figure, Freddie del Curatolo, is a writer, essayist, music lover, volunteer in Kenya, theatrical artist, and also a kind of singer-songwriter.
And his songs are beautiful, deep but not sentimental. For his second album "Esilio Volontario," he relied on a singer-songwriter friend, Stefano Barotti from Massa, and a group of excellent session men, among which the former De André and Fossati Mario Arcari on winds and the guitar of Armando Corsi, embellishing the final jewel "Venezuela".
Esilio Volontario is a surprising album, with a clear vision that often only those who step aside and watch, more disheartened than amused or self-pitying, can have.
An album that, like many, will go unnoticed, unheard, and will remain a pleasure for a few.
As seems to be today the search for a meaning.
"Because it is only for the thirst for love, beauty, and knowledge. It is for happiness that one must die" (from Taireni).