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Rating: The wise simplicity that characterizes the beautiful "deriva" of Ivano Fossati's career was fully confirmed by the concert held on September 4th, '06 at the wonderful Auditorium del Lingotto in Turin, a place that already warrants a visit and trip just by itself.
First of all, indeed, the usual praise goes to the beauty of the hall and the absolute perfection of the acoustics: one of the few places where you hear music qualitatively better, or at least equal to what comes out of a good-level stereo. Often live performances have a flaw that becomes increasingly unbearable as the listener's ear (and fussiness) ages: the sound. Then, if the listener is, in his own small way, a musician and has spent most of his life listening, buying, and especially in the cult of music, the matter becomes more serious. And so it happens that the snare drum doesn’t sound as you'd like, the bass sounds weak and isn’t "round" enough, the voice is a bit too heavy, and the lyrics are hard to understand... it's a bit like knowing wine very well... you risk not savoring it anymore. Well, not that all of this doesn’t happen at the Lingotto, but it happens in a much more muffled and bearable way. At Fossati's concert, for example, at the beginning, the sounds left something to be desired, but that's quite normal: an empty hall, however beautiful, will never sound like a full one. After a while, though, everything was fine. Actually... perfectly fine.
Fossati has come to terms with his past, and especially with that genius and absolute, rhythmic/harmonic, woody and stringed instrument, which is the guitar. That is, the "iron" most used and abused in recent years, a bit by everyone and often without purpose. Ivano, instead, has a good past as a guitarist and guitar-playing singer-songwriter, and during the "pianistic" period, he seemed almost to want to forget and renounce it. In the period from "Discanto" to "La Disciplina Della Terra," with the beautiful peak of the instrumental "Not One Word," the guitars disappeared, making space for melancholic and vaguely Jarrettian pianos, often played excellently and absolutely appropriately. It is the so-called "sad period,” which for many is and remains the absolutely best period of the artist. I... well... I don't know. "Macramè" and "La Disciplina" are albums to say the least exceptional. And let’s not forget what Ivano wrote in those years, also for Faber and for "their" Anime Salve". Perfect, sad, and beautiful stuff. But written. That is... already written. So what to do, then, repeat oneself? Always bring back the same album to stores and the same setlist to concerts? No: the choice was that of a wise and probably happy man, who has come to terms with all the "selves" that have accompanied him.
And so here is the “hard” opening, with a "Ventilazione" that hadn’t been heard for ages. Immediately hitting with a wall of guitars: three at the front, including him. Right after, a very ancient gem (28 years ago!) and straightforwardly blues: “La Crisi.” Objectively, stuff that’s hard to believe. Then some great presences from the latest album, although some gems were left out, above all the unmatchable "Il Battito", which, however, isn’t bad left there, aloof and untouched in its absolute studio perfection. From the second-to-last album shone “Il Bacio Sulla Bocca,” a piece intrinsically beautiful. Completely forgotten, confirming what was said above, "Discanto," "Macramè," and "La Disciplina Della Terra." Some great classics have seen the inclusion of guitars, lately either absent or totally secondary, especially in "Mio Fratello Che Guardi Il Mondo," perhaps never so beautiful. Then a "Panama" somewhere between the original studio version and the wonderful live versions from the early ‘90s, and another gem from the "forgotten" repertoire. Another reggae like those he once loved to do, the beautiful "Traslocando" from "Le Città Di Frontiera" (1983). From the same album also the beautiful and guitar-rich "La Musica Che Gira Intorno."
What to say: does Fossati love "Le Città Di Frontiera" more today than "Macramè"? Probably yes, and perhaps it's not even a bad thing, since those things there are beautiful, he has already done them, and they are immortalized for our everlasting pleasure, and these are very fun to listen to live. Closing with the splendid “C’è Tempo,” “taken” by the band a bit too fast, even if many didn't seem to notice it, and with the now traditional and conclusive “Il Disertore” a cappella (which is perhaps becoming the "Albachiara" of intellectuals... who knows). So Fossati completely revisiting and retracing himself? No: “La Mia Banda Suona Il Rock” he will never do again. It seems.
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