Mia Martini
Oltre la collina

Let's start by setting a premise. Mia Martini, as far as the writer is concerned, is the greatest Italian singer. She is the quintessential Italian singer. And no one, Mina included, has ever equaled the emotional impact her voice and songs have on me. So, being emotionally involved could, in a sense, influence what I write, but I hope it's just a detail. Born in Bagnara Calabra in 1947, our Mimì (as she was called at the time by her family) began singing at parties and local venues. Her passion for music and Italian songs in general soon took over her, and at a very young age, she attended her first auditions to try her luck. It was Carlo Alberto Rossi who first believed in her, introducing her to the music world. It was in 1964 that Mia Martini won the Bellaria Festival with 'Come puoi farlo tu', a simplistic piece very much of its time. Meanwhile, Mimì deepened her passion for music by studying great artists like Aretha Franklin and Ella Fitzgerald, making them her own, reaching what the reviewer considers one of the most beautiful voices of the Italian scene and beyond. Everything was in her voice. Feelings and emotions shone through almost surreally, whether joy or sorrow. Her voice likely also taught her younger sister, whom we know as Loredana Bertè. In the meantime, she served four months in prison for being caught in possession of marijuana.

When did the name 'Mia Martini' come about? In the following decade, the 70s. The name is a mix of two elements. 'Mia' stands for Mia Farrow, a famous actress (Rosemary's Baby), while 'Martini' is for the famous Italian drink. At the beginning of the decade, she had a crucial encounter with Antonello De Sanctis, an excellent songwriter, recently deceased, whom we appreciated with groups like Collage or Cugini di Campagna and emerging artists like Paolo Frescura. He was behind the first important songs of young Mia, which made her famous in a short time. The first piece that went down in history is surely 'Piccolo Uomo', written by Bruno Lauzi and initially intended for the Camaleonti, made famous by Martini in 1972, and via this song, there was her first festival victory. This was the time of great successes.

Shortly afterward, one of the masterpieces of Italian pop music was released. It's the well-known 'Minuetto', written by Franco Califano with Bembo's help. It was Califano who took inspiration from what was the romantic and troubled life of Mia Martini herself, who never denied a projection of her persona within her music. Minuetto is nothing but the heart-wrenching narration of the days of a woman enslaved by love and a man that, with her too weak to prevent it, could do anything he wanted. One glimpses a sort of submission to the will of the mentioned person, who, treating the woman as an object, takes what he wants and leaves her. Needless to say, victory at the Festivalbar. Mia Martini's songs began to be exported and translated abroad, a testament to the ever-growing fame of the singer. Notable is the troubled and complicated relationship with singer-songwriter Ivano Fossati, with whom she also had some collaborations. Mia Martini quickly became an icon of the 70s in Italy, to the point that critics advised against her future participations in Festivalbar because she would win handily. Her production in the 80s was compromised by a complicated vocal cord surgery, which caused her temporary decline. Mostly, it was her difficult private life that led her to retire from the scene for a short period. Mia Martini would return in the following decade, the 90s, joy and sorrow of Italian song, with emblematic songs of a feminist stamp like 'Gli Uomini non cambiano' and the famous 'Almeno tu nell'universo'. Then, the irreparable.

It was just 1971 when Mia Martini debuted with her first album. 'Oltre la collina' is an album that immediately rises to the top of Italian songs, thanks to the continuous thematic changes that make Mimì's music superior to the average, also due to the great lyrics of a strong Antonello De Sanctis, and also a very young Baglioni. The first song is beautiful, 'Tesoro, ma è vero', a poignant and moving monologue of a blind woman who asks her beloved about the nature of objects, to see through his eyes. But the woman strongly believes that God took something from her to give her what she needed, which somewhat fills her handicap, the man of her life (Dio grazie lo stesso/ perché tu mi hai tolto tanto/ e poi mi hai dato lui). The theme of the difficult father-daughter relationship in 'Padre davvero' is treated wonderfully, through disarmingly harsh phrasing towards a despicable parent. Rai's censorship didn’t hesitate to remove many elements, making it presentable on television. Mia Martini never denied that her difficult relationship with her father also influenced the song, testifying to how real the then-young girl's music was. 'Gesù è mio fratello' is a wonderful exaltation of faith, also censored due to a title that deviated from the intended meaning. Impossible to describe the beauty of this piece, love for faith is expressed through comparisons between Jesus and life's wonders, including Bach's music. 'Prigioniero' is based on 'Stop! I don't wanna hear it anymore' by Melanie Safka and describes the dramatic experience of being imprisoned, an experience actually lived by the singer due to drug possession. Yet another Italian version, this time 'Nel Rosa', which is the Italian adaptation of 'Into White' by Cat Stevens. Like the previous song, where Bruno Lauzi also participated, here the text is exclusively born from Mimì's pen. 'Ossessioni' is 'Taking off' by Nina Hart, while subsequently, there is the interpretation of the famous and popular 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight'. The subsequent 'La Vergine e il Mare' is wonderful, written by De Sanctis, narrating the story of a rape with disarming delicacy. Of course, this song had censorship issues, but the way Mimì intimately sings this song is truly superb (Mi prese dai fianchi/ piegò la mia schiena/ fu su di me). The enigmatic nature of the song is heightened by the line 'Mi piacque giacere con lui', which implies the protagonist’s consent and her perverse complicity. 'Lacrime di Marzo' instead is the story of a woman's suicide, due to the brutal way she is treated by the man who made her a love slave. An incredible song, written by a formidable De Sanctis. Following that, 'Il Testamento', which can be identified as the continuation of the previous song. Mia discusses her inheritance, which the protagonist would have drafted before dying in 'Lacrime di Marzo'. Thus emerges a brilliant intuition, making the album rich with connections between the songs. 'Amore, Amore...Un Corno' is somewhat the offspring of the more famous 'Minuetto', reflecting the same theme. A love one is enslaved by, that deludes without actual prospects of improvement. Once again, evident are the calls to suicide. A curious detail is Baglioni's voice that can be discerned in the choruses saying 'amore amore'. Concluding everything, the song that gave the album its name, 'Oltre la collina', a terrible declaration of a woman on the brink of depression. All the sorrows are buried there, behind the hill, ready to suck the woman into a never-ending vortex. The dream, always the same, the search for love, whether happy or unhappy, 'as long as it is a love'.

It was one of the first types of concept albums in Italy. All the songs are connected through the thread of despair and the loss of youthful values. The topics are bound together by a negativity that shines clearly from Mia's voice and the various texts. It was 1971, and releasing an album of this caliber was by no means easy, aside from it seeming almost a provocation towards the censorship that didn't desist in removing some key messages of the songs. 1995 was a terrible year for Italian music. What seems to be a death due to an overdose, or, according to others, a suicide (which remains only a hypothesis), was an incalculable loss for Italy. Despite her sister's statements on how their father's role might have impacted Mia's psychological fragility, the awareness remains that perhaps the greatest at the national level has been lost. Both for vocal range and for the compositional refinement of the songs. Her people adored her, and the musical and television tributes in response to her loss did not take long to come. Loredana Bertè herself sang many of her songs and dedicated 'Luna' to her, showing deep family affection mixed with great admiration. Today, Mia Martini is dearly missed.