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Rating:
It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it. The album by two monuments of Italian song has been out for a couple of months, and no one on debaser bothers to write a scrap of a review. The premises then, even for those who wanted to write a scathing review, were and are all there: the two are sailing towards eighty, but retirement is out of the question? They release this new work, promote it for free on Rai, and stay home to listen to themselves as mere spectators. Then there's that cover, an evident plagiarism, if you can call it that for a cover. And finally, though not of little relevance, that feeling of déjà-vu and the album with the ducks on the cover that comes to mind at the first listen. At the first listen, indeed.
But you (and I'm talking to myself) have been listening to Celentano since you were in diapers and have appreciated Mina over the years and you know that as much as the aforementioned facts push you to harsh criticism, you have to listen to the album several times, but not too many, and try to be objective.
A very heterogeneous group of authors, both old and new, have written eleven songs of considerable quality, and as if their exceptional and incontestable strong point, the interpretative class, weren't enough, the production has been entrusted to professionals with great experience such as Pino Pischetola and Celso Valli, who have enhanced even the weakest moments of the tracks. The result is an enjoyable album for its entire duration, with some moments of true grace, which I feel obliged to share with you.
To cut the delays short immediately, I'll tell you that the second single Ad un passo da te is certainly the most striking one, thanks to a truly irresistible chorus by Mina, supported by Celentano's introduction, which seems almost tailor-made for his style. We will listen to it in these months and in the coming years at town festivals and karaoke.
But the real gem is Sono le tre, a track on which the excellent arrangers have taken a step back, leaving space for the true miracle of this album: two elderly people singing better than 99% of their colleagues. If you don't believe me, listen to the first verse entrusted to Mina and don't wrinkle your nose at the excessively romantic lyrics, but focus on the clarity and intensity of the performance.
Scrolling through the tracklist, anyone familiar with rap would be startled to read the author of Se mi ami davvero. Mondo Marcio, aka Gian Marco Marcello, has written a piece perfectly halfway between his world and that of the two artists; not by chance, the twelfth and only non-original track is a reinterpretation of Prisencolinensinainciusol, a true pioneering experience (1972) of the genre by the springy one. Finally, the well-worn Amami Amami, with its tango-time stride, should be counted among those pieces that amaze for the simplicity of the melodic idea that is at its base.
We do not live in particularly rich years of discography milestones and surely it has always been difficult for contemporaries to express themselves on the longevity of an album, however, listening to this album prompts me to some reflections. Mina remains the only singer authorized to scream and no offense to the large group of new screamers from De Filippi's school. Celentano, born in 1938, can still interpret a strong piece, in terms of lyrics and music, maintaining his credibility intact (Il bambino col fucile). And to conclude a less obvious consideration: these days my listening is focused on the new Baustelle and this one, both beautiful but not very original, as the first suffers from excessive quotationism and the second from sporadic self-quotationism. At the moment, however, these two approaches seem to me to be the only possible ones, waiting for a generation of musicians capable of breaking the schemes imposed by the giants on whose shoulders they are seated.
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