Mimmo Locasciulli
Sglobal

Let's talk about minor singer-songwriters. Or so-called minor. Keep in mind that for many of you, even major ones are unbearable. For others, they're completely indifferent or unknown. And for others still, like me, who are so in love with the genre, there's a kind of automatic plenary indulgence that kicks in, sometimes utterly undeservedly—I realize that...—in our poor minds filled with the 1970s, with beat generation from older siblings, with the myth of French singer-songwriters, and with words that still mean something, and that it's nice to search, discover, and bring together to see the effect they have.

Of course, Locasciulli has always been a cult figure. He never achieved true mass success, with some royalties pocketed more thanks to De Gregori’s covers than his own records, an old Sanremo with a great song and an equally old (and beautiful) tour with Ruggeri. Then many records were crafted for the pleasure of his enthusiasts and the perhaps minor singer-songwriter scene. To add some colorful notes, perhaps completely irrelevant, we could dwell on his activity as a doctor, similar to that of the great Jannacci. But the fact that he graduated and made use of his degree, like good Conte or Prof. Vecchioni, is just another fact that everyone can evaluate as they can and wish.

I, in my small capacity as a graduate and a tiny musician, appreciate and identify just enough to enjoy it, knowing full well that this is anything but necessary or a merit in itself. It's just nice to know that there are people around leading double lives, who are not sectoral or narrow-minded but people who know how to enjoy both pleasure and duty, mixing and maybe sometimes confusing them. Personally, I have always followed and bought Locasciulli's records. From the first adventures to the collaborations with the Prince. From the pure singer-songwriter beginnings to the crazy love for Tom Waits of “Tango Dietro L'Angolo” and, at times, even the subsequent works, thanks to Ribot's guitar and Cohen's bass, hoping they don’t play with everyone. This album is definitely superior to the previous super-intimate “Piano Piano.”

Here we enjoy many sides of Mimmo, from the very Waits-like “Correre Baby” which opens the album to the marked and almost Fossati-like refrain of “Perso E Trovato”. From the unprecedented style of the title track, featuring the wonderful Frankie HI NRG (one of the first and most successful unions of genres tried in our country) to the blues-rock of “Aiuto!” with guest Alex Britti in the one thing he truly knows how to do, which is playing the guitar: the guy, to be fair, if you keep him away from a piece of paper (to compose) and a microphone (to sing), he really knows his job…: it's a pity he often or always forgets that his job is, after all, strumming fast and technically among the six strings, an excellent guitar session player and an irrelevant/irritating singer-songwriter. If I were Mimmo, I would have done without him as well: improvising with a nice pentatonic scale on a blues would have been better—and certainly more cult-like…—a Roberto Ciotti, for instance…but, oh well…the result is pleasant, and that's enough.

Here and there, there are pleasant ballads, some piano-driven and others guitar-driven. Always halfway between friend-mentor De Gregori and idol Waits. The fact is that the album spins beautifully, is very well written and performed, and deserves to know, at least from afar and briefly, a sales chart. Instead, it is produced by a minor label (Hobo for Egea), distributed very little, and our radios, aligned and covered, so diligent when there's a need to assault the ears of Italians with giants like nek-pausini-ferro-d’alessio, seem unaware it has even been released.

It is known...probably no one pushes (...) these products, relegating them, like Barbaresco or culaccia, to a population of enthusiasts and connoisseurs. Amen…: so much for minor singer-songwriting. Perhaps.