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Rating: I should be rather emphatic, and it doesn't suit me. Not even objectivity, to be honest. Besides, when I went to congratulate Vasco at the end of the concert, and I assure you I rarely do it, I told him that I wouldn't overdo it. I just pointed out that I'm old now and I've seen a few concerts in my life. He, after a "Thank you very much," apologized, stating that at the beginning, he found it rather difficult. Indeed, in the opening of "Piromani," with Canali, who accompanied him on electric guitar, they seemed unable to find each other. Then, slowly, I think he relaxed, and everything went the right way.
After a couple of songs, people started to sit on the ground, and what I noticed is that everyone was simply amazed. I thought of a season that I only experienced at the final period, that of the great Italian songwriters, and I quickly concluded that Vasco Brondi, aka LLDCE, is the only worthy heir of the "chosen few" that has appeared in at least twenty years, maybe twenty-five. Yes, I'm starting to exaggerate, but I'm convinced of what I say. I would have liked to start this page by paraphrasing Landau on Springsteen, and I spared you that. But let's say it openly: LLDCE sweeps away, in one fell swoop, two decades of Italian songwriter music, dead and buried, that no one thought could be reborn. This is where we must start again.
Some examples, just to be clear. Two days before, I had seen Bugo at the same festival. In baseball, there comes a point when the game ends due to clear inferiority. Someone talks about Tricarico. LLDCE is an angel pissing on them. It's useless to continue: there's no contest, with anyone.
Back to the concert. A short forty minutes to play, scattered, all the tracks from "Canzoni da spiaggia deturpata." This young guy wandering with a backpack, bewildered, with a small bottle of water, under Canali's protective wing, you wouldn't even think he could tell what he sings. Yet, he has the ability, when he gets on stage, to transform into a narrator of truly touching moments. Even too mature, managing to give a sense to the live performance. The songs, in fact, despite their almost disarming simplicity, are performed differently from both the demo and the official release. Sometimes slower, sometimes more entangled, with awkward and engaging reiterations.
Where does the greatness lie? In my humble opinion, in the fact that finally someone manages, even in Italy, to be a songwriter with the spirit of a punk (the use of the distorted anthem that explodes when you least expect it). And, as already observed by Targetski, to be the bard of a generation that I don't think had any singers. If the CCCP are no more, there's no need to put on a show. A more ferocious and, above all, nihilistic Billy Bragg GB84.
The last questions concern the future. Will word of mouth be enough? Does this country still want to have some truths spat in its face? Or, in a few years, will we still be only thirty of us, huddled, dazzled, and happy that there's someone who talks about us?
"Rummaging through the most probable futures, I only want implausible futures... and protect me from tear gas and useless songs."
P.s.: allow me to dedicate this little page to Corey5, a fellow DeBaserista I never met and never will, but whom I know loved Vasco Brondi, whose screams I hope reach him in heaven and bring him solace.
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