Litfiba
17 Re

When you are 20, you float a meter above the ground, when you are 20, you feel like the master of the world, you are not afraid of anyone, when you are 20, you have so much to say, and you find yourself in a garage playing with some friends, drinking beers and smoking joints thinking of Istanbul or Eva, the allure of Muslim countries, the trips you will take...
When you are 20, whatever you write smells of poetry, you are emotionally charged, you love all strangers and you think that one day you'll spit venom on the church and politics because you really hate them, they don't belong to you, and if you do, it will be in front of hundreds of cameras and microphones.

"You can win a war in two and maybe even alone, you can extract the heart even from the blackest murderer, but it's harder to change an idea"... who knows how long these words have been lingering in your head, maybe it was your indelible motto, a belief: who knows how much you hated the synth pop of your years (in '87), or more intelligently, you realized that your dreamlike lyrics could only be supported by a bass so punk (only Maroccolo could express it at those levels) and a keyboard that tasted of LSD (Immense Aiazzi), all expressed to the highest values by the deepest voice that the Italian rock scene remembers in those years (inspired and histrionic Pelù).

Dear Litfiba, you who already with Desaparecido had distanced yourself from everything and everyone, who had wanted to show yourself and be heard with self-production to ensure that no one spoiled your outfit, who just to maintain your artistic virginity would have thrown stones with anyone in the square in Florence... you display in this 17 Re all your artistic beauty, unconsciously, I believe that twenty years later, "Resta," "Re del Silenzio," "Vendetta," "Come un Dio," "Apapaia," "Gira nel mio Cerchio," "Oro Nero" would have maintained all their splendor and charm, would have become classics for thousands of people, would be listened to and sung in parked cars (so that no one can see us) in the middle of the countryside with friends armed with cigarettes and beers with the desire to escape who knows where, singing them with eyes closed.
Because I felt they were mine! Because they had a beating heart, because like me, they didn't fit in with anyone, because they were charged and I discovered them only five years later! And all this happened before TV, before filling stadiums, before I don't even know what... Don't be offended, but I'm sure that in those years you were more interested in making your uncomfortable, revolutionary, and independent cry heard; you felt good only within your circle.
Maybe, Litfiba, you were the Eva dancing in the fire, you were like a God, you felt like a Desaparecido with your way of presenting yourself, having fun glimpsing, appearing, and disappearing.
Ghigo, Piero, Ringo, Gianni, and Antonio... perhaps they were the real Heroes in the Wind, a wind that later will sweep them who knows where, but the music always remains, in the heart and mind, especially when there are real people inside, whether they are 20 years old or not, that doesn't matter here.