Mia Martini
La musica che mi gira intorno

THE REVIEW

Starting July 12th, for the first time ever, the vinyl (double) of "La musica che gira intorno" by Mia Martini will be available, published by BMG Italy / Sony.

An absolutely indispensable album in any respectable collection, for the selection of tracks in the lineup, for the care of the arrangements, for the intensity of the performances contained within: everything is at the highest level. Indeed, let's remember that Mia Martini herself was the artistic producer, dedicating months and months to creating this work with extreme meticulousness.

Unfortunately, fate would have it that this would be her swan song. "Maledetta sfortuna" she sang, torn in "Dillo alla luna" by Vasco, one of the many gems in this record.

But perhaps misfortune does not exist, perhaps it was only destiny.

And of what would be her fate, Mia Martini seemed at times quite well aware. "I don't have much time left," she said. "I don't want to do anything anymore that won't remain in history," she declared back then.

Thus, she felt the need to reinterpret a collection of songs she particularly loved, chosen according to a "criterion of love," meaning those that she believed were written in "moments of great love" by names historically known for their social commitment, but which she intended to portray here solely as men, because what interested her most were "the human frailties," as she declared on the subject.

And apart from someone like Pino Daniele (deliberately left out of the anthology because Mimì wanted to dedicate an entire separate monograph to him), those who unknowingly penned Mimì's last sung words were Dalla, De André, De Gregori, Zucchero, Bennato, Vasco Rossi indeed, and the indispensable Ivano Fossati, the latter with three tracks in the lineup, precisely because the criterion she adopted in this case was indeed love. Fossati continued to be her great love, the only one. "I hate him, but I'm crazy about him," she would say amused (but not too much).

Ten songwriter's songs of her life, which in hindsight would constitute a kind of her spiritual testament.

Mia Martini thus left us her masterpiece.

I really try never to overuse this term. But this time I find it more appropriate than ever.

Even the indisputable beauty of the songs contained in this album seems to fade in front of her talent, her incredible ability to reach the soul of those who listen to her, with that voice that just a few months before her sudden death (but not too much), had achieved expressive heights that gave true chills.

An album that truly seems recorded yesterday, that hasn't been affected at all by the time passed (already a quarter of a century!), perhaps because, as Fossati said after listening to it previewed with Mimì herself at Dori and Fabrizio's house, she no longer sang songs but painted paintings.

And indeed, we well know how certain paintings succeed in passing through the ages unscathed, in their ability to render us an entire vision of the universe, to offer us sometimes real sensory experiences, undoubtedly consigning themselves to eternity.