•
Rating:
It has never been a good day, December 24th.
I have to tell you a little thing, something that no one will ever tell you, least of all your mother. That's how my grandmother began, then looking straight into my eyes and waving her enormous finger near my face, she started sharing her most precious advice:
Chi là d’or, chi là d’arzant, chi là ch’an vel un azident (who has it of gold, who has it of silver, who has it that is worth nothing). I didn't understand, but I kept watching her big finger move rhythmically like an old blues. And she would finish with “you must have it of gold!” in Italian, so I would understand well, to that extent. Then she continued with as cgnoss piò prest un buseder d’ un zopp (A liar is recognized before a cripple). Ah, proverbs, I love them. They can't be explained with words, they must be absorbed by body and mind, just like the blues.
I have always loved my grandmother, unique, completely, totally mine, and she loved me like no one else ever could. I would jump to her neck and hold her tight and I was happy, despite my nineteen years.
It has never been a good day, December 24th. I have never endured Christmas songs, jingle bells, trees with decorations, lights and people laughing... what's so funny? At her house, I listened to Kind of Blue (MD), Blue Line (MA), Blue Train (JC), Blue (JM) Otis Blue (OR), as if the blues was the favorite color of solitude. Now I'm with you, alone, without children, partner, mother, grandchildren, friends, and brother. Those who know me know it. Every year I go to Porretta, I bring her a flower, I greet her, tell her my feelings and cry, then I listen, in the dark and listen. Every year just one CD. But it has to be special, very special.
It has never been a good day, December 24th. This year with me is a live blues recorded at the Cafe au go go. The singer/guitarist tells stories where he's as bad as Jesse James, or about a tall woman weeping like a willow or about the first wife who left him... in the end, he mumbles that this is real blues, yes real blues. Then anguishes and misery, a bourbon, a scotch, and a beer...It is perfect. The music wraps me in twelve coils with a lugubrious guitar, the foot tapping the tempo and a dark and powerful voice. I will never get out alive from this blues. Otis Spann caresses the black and white keys, covering the songs with compassion, but slowly, gracefully emphasizing guitar and voice. Guitar and voice, but there are seven of them on stage. This is the miracle of blues, indeed real blues. Few chords played endlessly, songs climbing through emotions, no trace of contamination, purity mixed with tears.
It has never been a good day, December 24th. Years later, I discovered I didn't have it of gold, nor of silver. The first I married, for the second I divorced... A hug, goodbye, I'll hear from you in a year grandma Tina.
It has never been a good day, December 24th.
Loading comments slowly
