Giorgio Verdelli
Paolo Conte - Via con me

An amaranto Topolino travels placidly on a little road immersed in the Asti countryside on a sunny spring day, below, the notes of an old sparring partner…

This is how the documentary about Paolo Conte – Via con me directed by Giorgio Verdelli begins, presented as a special event at the Venice Biennale, it passed quickly and discreetly in the theaters on September 28, 29, and 30, 2020.

We were four cats the other night, and going away with Paolo was a real pleasure, it felt like traveling in a Rolls Royce and instead we were in an old Topolino dai siedimi accanto I couldn't ask for more.

The narrating voice intrusions, Luca Zingaretti, guide us through 100 minutes of over 50 years of Italian music history traversed by a giant, the enigmatic lawyer, painter, and former vibraphonist, the magnificent and magnetic Paolo Conte.

Really many characters were interviewed, from De Gregori to Benigni, from Jannacci junior to Caterina Caselli, his brother, Renzo Arbore, Vinicio Capossela, Servillo (the one who sings), the French (who this time do not get angry, rather they venerate him). There is even Jovanotti, who admits that to write a verse like c’è un po’ di vento, abbaia la campagna, c’è una luna in fondo al blu, he would need 300 lives.

The admiration and respect for this great artist of ours are total. Not one of the interviewees had a single bad word to say. Even De Gregori, notoriously arrogant, while being interviewed, is humble and looks embarrassed. He tells of the time during Banana Republic when they did a cover of Un gelato al limon. One day they met, and Francesco feared a scolding from Conte because they had offered a very rock version of Un gelato al limon quite different from the original. But Paolo Conte did not scold De Gregori, rather he thanked him for having introduced his song to so many people.

There are many anecdotes and episodes recounted by the interviewees and Paolo Conte himself, who also tells a jazz joke about Art Tatum and Chick Corea.

Particularly striking to me was a clip from a RAI television show in the late '70s. There's Paolo at the piano, Renzo Arbore hosting, guest Monica Vitti (beautiful). It's obvious that Paolo likes Monica, who is a bit aloof and far more of a diva than the discreet lawyer, but he dedicates a short song on the piano to her, and in a few seconds, Monica is totally seduced by our hero, nearly becoming a shy little girl as she tries to accompany, singing and barely knowing the words to this song by Paolo Conte.

Another episode that struck me was when he wrote Azzurro. He read the lyrics to his mother before it was released or became the anthem of Italian pop music and the anthem of the lockdown. After listening to the words, his mother began to cry. The lyrics of Azzurro will be placed in his mother's tomb when she passes away.

Today, Paolo is old, he's over 80. White hair, a mask of wrinkles, he's always had them. His blue eyes are no longer as lively and piercing as they once were, but rather almost clearer, watery, but woe to take away his coffee and cigarette.

I could write many other things, but it seems unnecessary, really, or maybe I simply don't feel like it. I can only tell you that the admiration and respect I have for Paolo Conte, as an artist and as a man, are total. Not only by listening to his music but also by listening to his words during a simple interview, I have the impression, simply, of being in the presence of a superior person, to be blasphemous and "necessarily" exaggerated, of being in front of a demigod.

I have always wanted people to remember me for my music. For some years now, hearing so many people who love my lyrics too, then I would like to be remembered also for the lyrics … and for the kazoo.