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Under the sponsorship and generous grant of the Tourism Office of the Municipality of Bracciano ...
In the little village where I live (Bracciano, in case that wasn't clear), there are even three districts: one is Vigna Di Valle, known for the historical museum of military aviation; the other, Castel Giuliano, is famous for having hosted, until about ten years ago, a remarkable wild boar festival, always attended, as guests of honor who close the event before the fireworks, by Latte E I Suoi Derivati.
Perhaps because the wild boars in the vicinity amusingly became extinct due to repeated culling, or because the group disbanded and thus there was no one left to invite, the festival is no longer held and has been replaced by the trendier rose festival.
And yet, thanks to the wild boar slaughter, Latte E I Suoi Derivati are, by far, the group I have seen live the most. And it has always been a blast.
Greg and Lillo I think you all know a bit, thanks to the good visibility they have obtained in recent years under the spotlights of the small screen: well, Latte E I Suoi Derivati was their training ground.
«Greatest Hits» is the 1994 debut and the title proved to be prophetic, because this little disc contains such a slew of classics that it leaves you stunned: to be clear, classics for every self-respecting native Roman, because even a Viterbo or a Frosinone native perhaps doesn't even know them, Latte E I Suoi Derivati.
Now, for those who have no idea who they are, here’s a faithful profile of them to the rhythm of raggamaffa.
Introductions made, the classics.
One after the other: the fisherman (or rather the pescator, just to clear away that annoying coating of provincialism that clouds the namesake song by De André), the Ringo Mandingo of Radio Pajata Fresca who owe practically everything to sacred monsters like Linus and Fargetta, the man ‘ngrifato and even cuckolded by his wife with the mysterious Giulio for whom there is no other comfort than the infallible remedy of the Caliph (me so’ covatio ‘na serpe ‘n seno tutti st’anni but ... I know the woman ... no, you don't touch ... but I’ll kick you in the mouth ... ugly whore!), the sparrowhawk of the night aka Truciolo, the various humanity you can meet in that Pol Pot’s Cambodia that is the Tufello fair (they're all there, from Patata who sells his mother for two crowns to Tramontana, a guy who goes around with the jack from the Renault 5), ending beautifully with the wild fans of Claudio Cecchetto who, remembering the glories of gioca jouer, take on a new summer dance (and there's even James Bond Bond or James James Bond or Bond James Bond or whatever the hell his name is, I still haven't figured out how many James and how many Bond), and I'll throw in another link because this one has to be seen more than heard.
Oh, if anyone thinks it’s just a sequence of trashy vulgarities with no rhyme or reason, have a listen to this remarkable old-style jazz insert, enriched by a subtle irony in the style of Arbore and then we’ll talk again.
Oh God, I hope that's enough because I can't go on with «Greatest Hits» in the background: this little disc is a laugh from start to finish.
By the way, the third district of Bracciano is called Pisciarelli and there's nothing to see or do. And with that, the circle is closed.
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