Giangilberto Monti
Boris Vian - Le canzoni

Ten books in his own name, 4 under a pseudonym, 500 songs, 7 plays, poems, the translation of some Chandler books, a jazz trumpeter of excellent quality, so much so that he was a cherished friend of Duke Ellington and Miles Davis (as well as the director of the jazz record department at Philips). And he died at only 39 years old. Otherwise, who knows what he could have accomplished. Boris Vian was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the most brilliant minds of the twentieth century. It's obvious that a character like this can make one lose their head. Those characters that, if you dive in, can take years of study, more than they even lived. His songs, for instance. In Italy alone, they have been covered and translated by Fausto Amodei, Ivano Fossati, Luigi Tenco, Ornella Vanoni, Luci della Centrale Elettrica.

But there is an Italian author who has done more for Vian's songs than all of them put together, even though he is too often forgotten. In his own way, the Milanese Giangilberto Monti is a bit like Vian. He has released 16 records, acted with Dario Fo, written comedic texts for Aldo, Giovanni & Giacomo, Marco Della Noce, i Fichi d’India; he has written the Dizionario dei comici and cabaret for Garzanti.

Among many things since 1994, he has thrown himself into studying the works of Boris Vian, not just his songs. A passion that recently resulted first in a docu-novel and then in a theatrical performance that tells the story of the French genius. He too, like Vian, can be defined as a “man of many numbers,” a French saying to describe someone who has done it all in life. In 1997, when a friend recommended the CD that is the subject of this review to me, I knew nothing about these two stories. Or rather, I knew of Monti marginally, proud owner of a vinyl copy of his debut album L’ordine è pubblico?, dated 1978. Eight caustic, ironic pieces, even controversial in some passages, which would be nice to discuss soon.

But let's return to Boris Vian – Le canzoni: eighteen tracks chosen from the French author's production that well represent his transversal poetics. I had only encountered one of these before. Of course, I am talking about "Le Déserteur," which I had heard five years earlier in the touching version by Ivano Fossati, who on the album Lindbergh - Lettere da sopra la pioggia had taken up the historic translation by Giorgio Calabrese from 1971, already recorded by Vanoni and others. A powerful song, repeatedly censored, written by Vian in 1954 and released on May 27 of that year on the occasion of the French defeat in the battle of Dien Bien Phu, the end of the Indo-China War. Monti has the daring to rewrite it, perhaps making it even harsher.

As he rewrites in a smoother version "La java delle bombe atomiche," which in Italy was known for the version written by Fausto Amodei. Altogether, there are, as mentioned, 18 pieces on the record that are a good compendium to start understanding Vian's musical poetics. Texts that at times seem to be written by an overseas Gaber. The bitter reflections of the death merchant in "Vendiamo armi," who has tried everything before bowing to the arms trade; the almost Jannacciana irony of "Lino ma sto corpo dov’è?," which tells a story of ordinary crime that seems straight out of bandit-ridden Milan, the antimilitarism of "Le scarpe che van di più"; the duet with Evelina Primo in the provocative "Picchiami Johnny," which could be a piece by Buscaglione and which Vian sang with Magali Noël. All supported by a first-rate band composed of Diego Baiardi on piano, Marco Mistrangelo on double bass, Vanni Stefanini on drums. Fresh recordings made live and produced by Roberto Colombo. The CD was part of the series by Il Manifesto. It's available on Spotify.