Ivano Fossati
Decadancing

A sloping road on a Greek island, with the sea and cobalt sky on the horizon. Along the edge, typical white houses, a feeling of calm and silence, only the rustling of a dry wind seems to flood the Mediterranean atmosphere. The photo was taken by Ivano many years ago during a trip to Hellenic lands and jealously kept in anticipation of an album that finally hits stores on October 4, 2011.

“Decadancing” is his latest work. The latest in chronological order, the last because Fossati wants it, the last because it is Fossati himself who does not want to record any more after this one. He told us very serenely himself, with the deliberated conviction and stubbornness of a genuine Genoese, as he is, live during a famous show hosted by a fellow Ligurian, not on the 1st of April, but on the 2nd of October on a warm evening of a theoretically ended summer still present to bite the shadow of a reluctant autumn. Indeed, like an early April prank, one initially thinks it's a hoax and has a laugh against the boredom of Sunday evening, then follows the phase of a fake smile that fades, slowly petrifying the expression; it’s not a joke, it’s all real. Fossati is not one to joke around, at least about his work, he has always been a serious professional. And here comes resignation, like a killer blade, the checkmate in a few moves, the 120 points of a Briscola wipeout, Baggio's penalty shot going high in the 1994 World Cup final against Brazil. A mixture of strange, negative, and intolerable feelings. This man must have experienced tremendous dismay to renounce what he loves most. Born in '51, 60 years completed in September... premature senile dementia? No, no, that's not the reason. Has he grown tired of playing? Of composing? Of writing? Many at 70 years old, or even beyond, still give quite a challenge to many younger artists. I’ll be honest: De André left us at 58, devastated by cancer, never questioning his work and his desire to continue to delight us with his jewels, while this one suddenly decides to end his career on his own, as if it no longer mattered. Then consequently, the wrinkled face of Vasco appears before you, the one swollen by former eternal acne of Ligabue, and the eternally boyish face of former suburb dweller Ramazzotti, and you get even angrier thinking what nonsense these might produce in the years to come. It angers you a bit... But with a lump in your throat and hindsight, I think one can and must humbly accept the wishes of a great character who decides to hang up his guitar.

Fossati metaphorizes that downward path as an escape route, a going beyond what is now and may or may not be, and everything starts to become clearer. The awareness of an overwhelming passion that cannot be guaranteed forever, a passion lasting 40 years stopping on that bright strip of road. Ahead lies the rest, one truly senses his desire to escape along that descent, stripped of papers, instruments, contracts, obligations and far from the prevailing emptiness of a world in the grip of irrationality and ethical decay, to soak in new robes refreshed by the wind of tomorrow. Almost all the tracks revolve around that road, around global “Decadance” and his professional farewell, all meticulously described, under different nuances in pieces like “Quello che manca al mondo”, “Laura e l’avvenire”, “Settembre”, “Nella terra del vento”, “La normalità”. It would be banal to say, this is truly a great album, but it is the truth, nothing more would need to be added. A very enjoyable, fresh, irreverent yet reflective and composed album, alternating ballads, light pop-rock pieces, and delicate piano solos, all garnished with his eternal artisanal expertise, with that refined and elegant touch as he has always accustomed us, sincere to the last of the verses, caressing us in its complexity with that slightly bitter aftertaste, for everything that’s been recounted so far.

It is enough to look at the covers of many of his albums to understand that for the Genoese singer-songwriter, travel has always been at the center of his thought and his production. His debut album in 1973 was titled "Il grande mare che avremmo traversato" and the title track narrated thus: "Guardo laggiù il mare. Oltre la città il mare. E rimango a pensare cosa c'è più in là del mare... ...che bisogno c'è di partire per poi non pensare che a tornare... ...partire, qui davanti a me c'è il mare, ce la potrei fare". So finally the time has come, Ivano in that photo could not but best embody his desire and starts the determined rush down the slope with a one-way ticket to finally ride the big blue.

“Eppure mi piace tutto questo futuro e anche il tempo sprecato che non vedo già più. Io e te, in mezzo al mondo, siamo un pugno di fiori. Ora passa la notte e come senti, non piove più.” With this last passage, another important piece of a glorious generation of singer-songwriters exits the scene, who have delivered to recent history a substantial slice of the most honorable musical and artistic chapters of our country.