Lucio Dalla
1983

Yes, I know, there are those who have recently complained, here on these pages, about the absence of new music releases.

Only reviews of old and perhaps well-known albums by most.

But everything is relative, my friends.

The time for discoveries is always lurking.

Things happen when you become aware of them.

Take this "1983" by Dalla, the album of the ancient solitude of the grandmother of the hammer, and take "Pecorella".

This song makes me infinitely tender, its lightness.. This "little girl in music", to think that I had never listened to the album that contained it until a few days ago… yet I remember very well when in the jukebox in the mountains that distant summer they kept playing, when it was released, his most famous song… who knows why, even as a fan of Dalla, I decided not to delve into this album back then… In '83 I was a shy eighteen-year-old, stubbornly searching in a girl for aesthetic and sentimental perfection, the unique shot with no possibility of failure… who knows, along with this song, how many potential "pecorelle" slightly less perfect flew away, then, without even knowing of their existence, without having the chance to know them and then forget them, and then regret them, that damned desire for perfection in the least perfect thing in the world which is love..

Better late than never, of course, if the internet really managed to help us recover, beyond the songs, even the little-used years, it would be wonderful..

About the album, I just say that today I'm listening to it and I'm finding the Dalla vinyl bought in lire that I didn't purchase back then.

The record store at the end of the long road with my grandmother's money in hand (who, however, listened to Claudio Villa, not Dalla)

A melancholic album written by Dalla for his fortieth birthday, full to the brim with the previous Dalla.

A concept album about his very personal solitude.

Even that "Stronzo", said to himself, with his wonderful way of singing words without sense (in the manner of his "Pezzo zero").

And then his sax held like a rifle.

Eight days ago, here on Debaser, the new album by Lucio Dalla was released.

By the way, that record store still exists, better late than never, I still have time to use that last banknote my grandmother gifted me, with a tear drawn on it, which I didn't spend back then, today as I feel a little more alone too.