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Rating: If only ten years ago someone had told me that I would see the Police or Dalla-De Gregori live again, I would have said it was an impossible and illusory madness.
Today, I saw them again. Without nostalgia, without pandering, without pointless sycophancy. Good music. Just old and good music.
Lucio Dalla and Francesco De Gregori, now very different gentlemen, uncles, and almost grandfathers of Italian songwriting, have put together a perfect project. A concert of old, yet exquisitely current.
They did things honestly, without grotesque promotions of recent records, nor pathetic resurrections of the unrepeatable "Banana Republic".
In short: they were intelligent, as they are. Intelligent and inevitably nostalgic, but only to the extent that it is nostalgic, wonderfully nostalgic, by now, the music they make.
A music made of words. That middle ground between the sung word and pure literature. Between rock and poetry. Between lived Italy and dreamed America.
That phenomenon buried by the ignorance of record companies, the TV distractions and couch potatoes of our poor compatriots, the disinterest in all that is thought and reflection, reduced to a niche by a heap of glitter, boobs, butts, shouts, and various mass distractions.
But there, in that packed theater (and it would have been the same in the coming nights) the beating of a heart of a different Italy was palpably felt. A very strong heart full of emotions, that wouldn't even entertain the idea of dying away in the little drawer where this society of pimps would want to shut it at any cost.
And here lies the silent, great message. A bit as if Pavese or Calvino had peeked on the radio to read us a story, or Fellini could have photographed the Italian faces of today, more grotesque and cinematic than ever, even if no one seems to notice.
It was a message from the past. And, hopefully, from the future of this splendid and desperate Country of ours.
And let's talk about the music, since the splendid attire was that exactly.
And even in the music, there was a disconcerting, unexpected (though not unforeseeable) show of intelligence.
First of all, the choice not to do absolutely anything promotional. The latest studio album of Principe is not even two years old, while Dalla's is essentially just out.
Well: no song not only from these last two albums (not even, at the limit, those that would have deserved it...), but nothing from the last two, three albums of each (Dalla's most recent song: "Canzone"; De Gregori's: "Pezzi").
And the repertoire didn't play on the banal...: of course, there were obviously the great hits (after all, if you had the fortune, merit, and talent to write "La donna cannone", wouldn't you sing it around...?) but there were also handfuls of gems (especially from Principe: "Due Zingari", "I Matti", but also from Dalla who, for the occasion, dusted off a perfect "Milano", or even "Nuvolari"...), in a concert that almost touched three hours of music, with the protagonists always on stage and no more than eight seconds between pieces.
A well-fed and impeccable band, graced by real strings that, however monstrous the steps technology takes, sounds and will always sound better than a big keyboard... The only flaw, in my very modest opinion, was the drum sounds, but I realize I am splitting hairs (as well as, obviously, the balls).
In short: splendid music, history, a wonderful atmosphere both on and off the stage.
An unforgettable evening that had, like all proofs of the existence of the God of Taste, the divine ability to annul time.
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