Ornella Vanoni
Live At Blue Note

The voice of an old goddess.

And divinity, we know, has no age. Therefore, simple and sublime, the voice of a goddess who, incidentally, is approaching eighty as few have the right and honor to hope.

And here we are not in the small square with sausage and little mazurkas that usually host the notes of old glories. Here we are at the Blue Note, the Milanese branch of the American time/brand. In short: not just any live performance. But not even a jazz concert. A work that combines cunning and skill, shrewdness and technique, cunning and soul. In short: the characteristics of a true artist, aged well.

Few, all things considered, the classics from Vanoni's repertoire. And many, many, many covers.

All beautiful? Maybe. Certainly, Ornella, like Mina, can sing whatever she wants, like Frank or Chet before her, to mention the first two who - not by coincidence - come to mind. True kings Midas of the voice.

And so, even Antonacci seems like a great author, Ron (to me) already in decline seems magnificent, and everything, in short, flows smoothly. Even the sounds are remarkable (my technical expertise, on this point, is rather limited, but the work seems to be very well recorded and post-produced). Everyone sounds divine, and the goddess of vibrato (perhaps a bit accentuated, as is normal, for everyone, even gods, with age) soars very high and perfectly in tune, as always.

Lovely the idea of leaving all the spoken interventions, enhancing them with their own tracks. Fun and amused. Objectively "very Vanoni-like", and it feels like being home. It was, maybe it still is, maybe it's no longer..., the Italy we liked. The one that exalted and rewarded excellence, not the mediocre television from a lab that's as glossy as it is empty.

In short, a record that confirms a principle we already knew, but that, like all certainties, needs periodic and reassuring confirmation: Vanoni, along with Mina, is light-years away from the others, unattainable even at warp nine.