Hello guys, let's pick up the thread of my music reviews, as I return for good from my holidays in Sardinia and Aosta (I think I can finally dedicate more time to you!), with a strong theme, worthy of being discussed with you, and for you, in the autumn season of my "mission": this time we talk about those who win and, above all, those who lose, we question the "ifs" and "buts" of the history not lived, and perhaps not written, of "how it might have gone if," but it didn't at all. Or perhaps it would have anyway.

We are talking about those who were brushed by the spotlight of success, only to end up in the darkest shadows, and in oblivion, without the consolation of a Homer who sang of the ruin of Troy and Hector's death, as well as the wrath of Achilles and the army of the disgraced Greeks.

I would like to be in the mind of Luciano Ligabue in the coming days when he will hold a series of concerts at the Verona Arena and imagine what he thinks (if he thinks): will he also wonder how many died and were forgotten in the erection of the amphitheater, how many gladiators saw dust and glory within those four walls, without anyone bearing their names, how many stones of the building were removed by time and used to embellish the facades of the course's palaces, distorting their function, how many left disappointed through the vomitoria for an off-key note of the more or less fashionable opera singer, maligning her inclination towards men and alcohol, even if never proven.

Above all, I would like to be in the mind and eyes of Ligabue when, at the lighting of the stage and the acclamation of an adoring audience, he feels like a contemporary gladiator of the dream (but for how long? Will he ever become modern like Elvis or Roberto Satti? Will he age before him or his audience?), oblivious, in the charge of being the center of everything, of being the one who tells the lives of others and gives expression to the unspoken of those who listen to him, of what happened during the distant summer of '90, after consuming magical nights and big ears, in the incipient autumn of a season when Juventus was led by Maifredi and I, along with a jumble of individuals, devoted myself to spiritual sessions with a glass.

Will Luciano Ligabue remember (between stage and reality, between John Mellencamp and the dance hall) winning a Festivalbar by applause meter in that same Arena, defeating the Lorimeri?

None of you will remember too well this lovely duo (perhaps, with a hint of lesbianism, but I'm not sure; check it out) and the fun macaroni rap of "Tell Me Why (Dimmi quando te ne vai)", but I remember it well, and I return it to you, standing - if it may be parvula licet - as the "Homer of the Lorimeri" (there's even alliteration). Or, at least, as Vincenzo Monti, great translator...

Creators of a syncopated music, where rap or ska advances merged with reggae rhythms and salsa and calypso veins, accompanying it all with "major" tones that gave a touch of lightness to the ensemble, the Lorimeri were effective singers of simple sentiments, and of a certain female/ist and Italian pride: the already mentioned "Tell Me Why" (hit of that brief season), mocked both xenophilia and the average male, perhaps not too intelligent to understand, with a liberating chorus that began with "Sinceramente ti direi/ma te ne vai o no?", accompanied by offbeat choirs and a dynamic and persistent rhythm section that - years later - would be taken up by the Spice Girls and, generally, by all the Girl Power groups of the late nineties (but, perhaps, the Inspiration is more common than it seems, and still passes today through the Boot); no less beautiful, in the album, "Non mi dire no", where the debt to reggae and Jamaican dancehall is evident, benefitting from lyrics where sarcasm blends in a repetitive but liberating mantra: "Non mi dire nononononono", fading into a "repeat and fade" that would have made the Police rejoice and that, still today, excites the writer.

No less beautiful, and still along the lines of pride, irony, boldness, and fun, are the other songs, among which I recommend in a quick review, not to bore you too much, "Diamoci una mossa" and "Ragazze".

I don't know what happened to the Lorimeri, but I would like to imagine where they will be when Ligabue takes the stage that, in another Universe, would have been theirs: in a pizzeria, at an aerobics or creative dance class, acting or miming, or at home in front of a DVD or abroad, having fun while I am bent over the light, writing. I only know that I would like to be with them, in their kitchen nook or living room, and have them sing "Tell Me Why" live rather than - maximum respect - with Liga; it's not a matter of music, perhaps, but of destinies: and the destiny of those who are only brushed by success, in their otherness, is more interesting, and alive, than that of those who grasp success, perhaps feeling at the center of everything, in an amphitheater that has seen its builders, its patrons, its singers die, surviving generations of gladiators or symbols of contemporaneity, already dead while they were alive.

Epically Yours,

 

Il_Paolo

Tracklist

01   Diamoci Una Mossa (03:25)

02   Medley (Io Sono Io / L'Evento) (03:00)

03   Non Mi Dire No (02:49)

04   Una Storia Fantastica (04:21)

05   Ragazze (03:38)

06   Tell Me Why (Te Ne Vai!) (03:51)

07   Conquisteremo La Città (03:50)

08   Stai Lontano Da Me (03:43)

09   Buoni Amici (03:57)

10   Non Ce N'è (03:20)

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