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Rating: One leaves the prodiberlusconi© feeling incredibly pissed off and seriously believes it's not worth voting. It eases him a bit to go see Paolo Benvegnù in concert just 5 minutes from his home, but he almost fears that his pessimism will ruin the rest of the evening.
But fortunately, damn it, the human mind is made strangely, and it has its own priority scale. And so when you get there and he starts the first song, it's like everything melts away and slips off your skin. Damn prodiberlusconi©, my life is still mine, made of what I feel when I'm alone, at most with one other person. Tonight I'm alone. Tonight I'm with one other person. I feel a particular affection for Benvegnù, one of the very few cultured musicians who is not nihilistic, with a strange energy that transcends the stories he tells. He speaks of a world that rises despite man and his dullness. Against man and his dullness. He plays the guitar from atop his six feet three inches, with the advantage of seeing things from afar. And he has his own humor, whimsical and nonsensical, naive and tender, disorienting. He sprinkles it between songs almost by chance, to the amazement of the (few) present. Sometimes he seems annoyed, as if he can't find the perfect harmony with the band tonight; but it's a matter of a moment, of a damn it, a broken string and off again, to plunge into this abyss of light.
I probably should get into specifics, mention the setlist, the new songs premiered, Tom Dick and Harry, and the like, but I can't. It wasn't a concert experienced lucidly, it was a concert felt in the bones, in the cartilage, and in the nerves, savored as it was once, when you didn't understand a damn thing about music and something just pleased you because. A concert in a trance, a shamanic ritual against the negativity of a completely disarming, discouraging present (political? global? personal?). Benvegnù hypnotized me, that's what it was, reminding me that there still exists 'the feeling of things, and that if we have patience, they are always ready to teach us wonder again'.
And, after the concert, finding ourselves talking, a wonderful person capable of making you feel at ease, showing interest in any human being. He spoke to me like an older brother, wishing me a good life, a place in the world that is mine and free, a lone wolf, that the rest matters little. He tells me to read Pasolini, in which there's hope, fury, urgency. He tells me this and many other things, in a few minutes, maybe ten, maybe half an hour. I don't know, I don't know anymore. He hypnotized me, again. And I really would have liked to stay there talking at length for the rest of the night. Easily, I would have completely forgotten about my sad list of what's wrong, the gloomy misanthropy, and the prodiberlusconi©. But at least for a bit, tonight, I did.
Thank you, Paolo
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