Mimmo Dany
L'Antistress

THE REVIEW

''Eighteen years are the most beautiful and they never come back''
[''Marì Marì'']

Recalling the most beautiful moments of a love now ended, the young Mimmo Dany immerses himself in a kind of humanistic empathy, almost like a new Lorenzo the Magnificent, and captures, perhaps unconsciously, the meaning of life, identifying youth (which indeed escapes nonetheless) as the golden age. That genuine mix of philosophy and disenchantment has enchanted both audiences and critics, making this artist one of the most acclaimed on the Neapolitan scene. Sought after in many shows on local broadcasters (most recently ''Il Codice D'Angiò'', in which he is a regular guest), Mimmo Dany (aka Leopoldo Giappone) dispenses pearls of wisdom to the sound of music, entertains, makes people dance (''Acchiapp' tè'', with its hypnotic bass line, reaches the levels of a domestic ''Another One Bites The Dust''), and at the same time provides insights into some aspects of ''popular'' life that we often prefer to hide (''Napoli Sbandata'', ''O' Nonno c'ha imbrugliato'').

With ''L'Antistress'', the penultimate work released in 2005, Mimmo Dany seems to smile at life or, at least, seems intent on capturing its bright facets. In ''O' Marajà'' he embodies the princely role, singing the praises of the ''art'' of sweet idleness, and not hiding polygamous aspirations. Who knows if the song might offer possibilities for opening up to new horizons, new cultures. ''La Bandana'', the most successful single from the album, is a hymn to summer, its pleasures, and carefree spirit; here too, ambiguities and irony are not lacking (think, in this regard, of an eminent institutional figure). With ''O' Pesone 'e casa'', he tackles with unusual lightness (the dance beat matches the author's intentions) the scourge of rent; job opportunities are really precarious, there is a large family to support, and covering certain expenses becomes a very arduous task. Illuminating in this sense is the verse (translated into Italian): ''In this house we are seven, a bed and two bunk beds, and the baby in the drawer of the dresser''. The piece concludes with an exhortation to the institutions to remedy the problem through prompt measures (''Vaco 'ncopp'o Comune, sta casa popolare m'hann'a dà''), nullified by harsh reality (''mi spetta e nun m'a danno, secondo me se l'hanno vennuta già'').

Realistic, disillusioned but never yielding, poetically carefree. Genius