I gatti mézzi
Struscioni

THE REVIEW

Sort of 'asa

What luck have I ever had

Luggage, rags and then

Arfredino's cat

Drinks in the sink

Is a friend of mine

Tonight I'm all drunk on wine

I've returned to being a kid

All right this way

I quarreled with the fridge

It looks at me empty and bewildered

Rising proudly

Tonight I want to blend in with the people

Nothing

That is interesting

I see a shopkeeper

Who to make money

Sells trinkets

To little kids

I'll tell you straight away: I don't really like the whole band of Brunori’s label much or at all. Two only, among all, are saved: Lucio Corsi (who indeed left Picicca behind) and i Gatti Mézzi, which, for those who don't know, means "wet cats."

To like i Gatti Mézzi — and I do like these two filthy rags — you really need to understand Pisa, the air you breathe along the Arno at night, at the end of September, when it starts feeling good without sweating. You need to know what it means to wander in the alleys on the other side of the Arno in winter, to visit my friends at the record store, behind Piazza della Pera. You need to have absorbed the provincialism of Gipi's scribbles (who, not for nothing, did the cover of the second album of i Gatti Mézzi). You need to have stained your shirt more than once eating a sandwich in Piazza delle Vettovaglie.

You need to feel Pisan, in short, if really being one isn’t quite advised. Because Tommaso Novi and Francesco Bottai — there's little to do — not only are Pisans recognizable from afar, but they talk about Pisa, from the provincials they are. And this, I swear on the fire, they do better than anyone.

And indeed, I feel Pisan too, listening to "Struscioni."

Of all the albums from these two Pisan kids, this is the only one that for me, in the long run, stands out: yes, not all the songs can be tolerated, some are a bit too self-indulgent: in one, they even have to speak ill of the Livornese. But overall, I'll tell you, they don't tire me even after ten years and more.

With comparisons, one could also tire themselves out, but today I'm in a rush, so I'll give you only two: Paolo Conte and Fred Buscaglione. Is that enough for you?

Ah, another thing: there was no way to talk about i Gatti Mézzi in Italian, so I'll have to jump through linguistic hoops.