Riccardo Cocciante

An artist, truth be told, hard to define, that sits between romantic Italian pop and more refined singer-songwriter music. Some works still appreciated by me ("Concerto per Margherita" and "Anima"), while from "Cervo a primavera" onward, he has remained the same, and despite that, he has always horrified me, consistently and continuously, except for the Sanremo interlude of '91 (the only Sanremo with a podium that could be called "acceptable," even though I would have placed it in third place).