Ivano Fossati
Panama e dintorni

Listening to “Panama,” the leading track of the album released in early 1981 “Panama e dintorni,” I have often wondered about the meaning of the term “Mamacita,” and in my innocent ignorance, I have always believed it to be a bizarre female name. The protagonist, on the apathetic boat transporting him to the junction of the two Americas, had every reason to use this term towards some charming young lady passing through the world. It is basically another way to give a somewhat colorful compliment to an attractive girl, like saying “Nice a...” “Panama,” with its hint of reggae but undeniably built on a pop foundation, with very pronounced percussion, has always fascinated me, especially for the stressful and bored setting, in which a group of unidentifiable characters hide, including the womanizer of certainly unreliable fame and rank. A long and endless journey begins in London, where this anonymous explosive trafficker bribes the ship's Captain to transfer from Europe his questionable goods to some team of South American revolutionary guerrillas, or as he calls them, “exiles.”

In this work, Fossati makes use of the arrangements by the American soul-jazz keyboardist Steve Robbins, who will later collaborate with artists of the caliber of Robert Palmer, Sting, Irene Cara, and the Special E.F.X.

He takes the opportunity to masterfully reinterpret the slow ballad “La costruzione di un amore,” written in 1978 for his then-partner Mia Martini. Delightful rock nuances appear in the songs “J’adore Venice,” another famous piece that will be magnificently transformed 12 years later into a jazz version, in the live album “Carte da decifrare” and in “La signora cantava il blues,” a title used in her autobiography by the famous U.S. singer from the '40s and '50s Billie Holiday, to whom the song is dedicated. “Boxe” and “Questa guerra come va?,” supported by light and more catchy melodies, are more reflective songs in which the protagonists face the difficulties of life, while “Stazione” soberly recalls that melancholic pop used in his other tracks in the '70s and catapults us into a surreal metropolitan context, where individuals are forced to live underground, because “those who have seen above say one no longer reaches Rome, that it's not better outside, so much that they've come back down.” “Se ti dicessi che ti amo” is the classic love song surrounded by hints of progressive, with an extended flute solo, which accompanies us towards the end of the album.

“Panama e dintorni” steps a few paces, giving the impression of a more polished product to the ear than the previous, more dreamy and casual “La mia banda suona il rock,” in which Fossati was acclaimed with the disowned title track, considered by him a heavy derogatory shadow of other future masterpieces, less commercial. These works, still distant, will leave a more concrete imprint allowing his voice to perfectly blend with that more elegant and refined personal style. A Fossati of 1981, not yet mature, but certainly seasoned, the creator of a more than dignified work that starts the definition of squaring the circle, wisely combining a particular introspective language with intelligent and fresh sounds, among the most innovative in Italy in the early '80s.

It's exhilarating how our historic singer-songwriters in the '70s and '80s, unlike those of more recent generations, often tackled with meticulousness and extravagance themes related to travel or settings in localities of any geographical position, as if to communicate that the concept of distance, even if only metaphorical, can be a fascinating way to escape from the anxieties and the monotonous daily life that existence imposes. I think of “L’isola non trovata,” “Amerigo,” or “Argentina” by Guccini, "Rimini" by De André, “Titanic,” and “Viaggi e miraggi” by De Gregori, “Sudamerica” and “Genova per noi” by Conte, “Washington” by Dalla, “Sestri Levante” or “Polo Sud” by Vecchioni, “Messico e nuvole” by Jannacci. Many more could be cited, but I conclude here with the hope of never seeing the flame of these damned poets of our time, with the extraordinary ability to go beyond and take us anywhere, fade away.