Paolo Conte
Concerti

THE REVIEW

I found the record at a stall at the Sagra della Passera Pelosa in Valdastico (VI), an annual battleground for the thickest in Italy. Sagra or not, I recommend visiting Valdastico at least once in a lifetime. Many certainties fall, especially if you're coming from the west. For example, as you approach, you notice that sometimes the north isn't as north as it is portrayed. The Vicenza Nord exit, for example, is more east than the Vicenza Est exit. Arriving in Valdastico, which is even further east than Vicenza Nord, I lost all traces of the north. I even checked by glancing at the tracklist on the back of this record. No Nord. And by the transitive property of basalt circumnavigation, I deduced that the north, around there, is in Vicenza.

Another dogma gone up in smoke is the one that says black slims. That it doesn't always succeed was something I realized during the performance of Miss Vaporosa of Lucania, a title the lady earned not for musical tastes akin to those of Kloo. I had further proof of black's fallibility in slimming dealing with the peculiar smoky nocturnal hue that drips from this record. There's quite a bit of it on the cover, for example, with all those dark suits the musicians are wearing and all that darkness in which the dark suits are immersed, it does not manage to give it an illusion of rectangularity. In fact, it forces it even more into an inexorably square shape. And in the end, it's better for it, given the circle-squaring activity it has to endure. An identical shade of black permeates the sound of this live, but it doesn't make it more dry. On the contrary, it contributes to making it thicker and rounder. But all this black is useless against the unbreakability of titles like "Azzurro" and "Diavolo Rosso". I recommend against the record to those intolerant of cigarette smoke, as while listening, there's a persistent feeling of being immersed in a pub fog pre-Sirchia law, with Cosmo Kramer having a nervous breakdown at the next table.

"Come on, blondie!" the master of ceremonies shouts, impatient due to a contestant's delay. Miss Carpet of the Val Brembana, if I remember correctly. The title is undeserved, sad to say. The golden rule that blondes can never boast particularly lush ones finds no exception in the miss. If only Conte had had a hint of clairvoyance and inserted a "Come on, Blondie" in this album found during such an event, what a hole in the space-time continuum he would have created! There's a blondie in the passenger seat of the Topolino Amaranto, but it's not the same thing.

I don't quite trust Conte live. Like Dylan (from what I've heard), he has the bad habit of altering his vocal melodies, of attacking them with a mechanized, almost monotone (in the sense of single tone, not boring) voice, occasionally offbeat. At the time of purchase, I couldn't have known that upon listening, my preconceptions would be immediately disproven by our "Uncle". And off we go, smoothly for more than three-quarters of the record. Melodies taken nice and full with the peculiarity of a smokier, less clean timbre compared to studio versions. Perhaps in '85, Conte was young enough that he still managed to care somewhat about his live vocal melodic rendering. But at "Onda su Onda," here comes Conte.. how to define him? “self-interpretative”? Well, it's understandable! "Onda Su Onda" in '85 was already an old song, how boring to sing it the same as the record! And so was "Azzurro." But "Genova Per Noi" was also old, yet this one he sings precisely. As with Dylan, some enjoy his way of revisiting his pieces. I don’t so much.

Anyway, the main reason I bought the record lies in the superb ensemble backing him.

"Well, I play the double bass," replies Miss Coral Reef of the Aeolian Islands, red as fire, to the question "talk to us about your interests," posed by one of the jurors.

There’s a bit of commotion. A bounty hunter hands over a beautician he managed to catch while he was trying to sneak into the miss dressing area. There was a bounty on every beautician in Italy at that event.

Perhaps Miss Coral would not have disliked the record. There's a handful of pieces performed just piano – voice (Onda Su Onda, Azzurro, Una Giornata al Mare..), but for the rest, there's Ares Tavolazzi who creates beautiful thick pillars with the double bass, the backbone of all the pieces. In "Verde Milonga," the pillars are primordial columns that stretch time and between which Jimmy Villotti's guitar slides in, defined (I don't remember by whom but rightly) as a very fine guitarist. Shiny shoes, the lakes of silence, Atahualpa... Great piece!

On drums, there's Ellade Bandini, swing, and brushes aplenty. He and Tavolazzi form a pair of gears well-oiled from many adventures together.

Miss Mediterranean Spot of the Val Curone takes the stage, showcasing her long legs and dispensing charm as if they were candies. As my pupils slide up and down her long legs, it reminds me of those in Babalu mentioned in Hemingway, and my eyes go searching for the piece on the back cover. It's there! This structure (first part subdued piano – voice, second part full-bodied instrumental with airy wind or guitar melody) must be something Paolo Conte loves (Nord, Max). In this live version, there's a bit more cinema with Kazoo and saxophone (the latter thanks to Antonio Marangolo) compared to the studio version.

The bounty hunter caught another beautician. He’s making tons of money.

If I remember correctly, Miss Velvet of the Apuan Alps won.

Heading back home to Piedmont from Valdastico is hard work. Among never-ending asphalt tongues and two inflated balls like hot air balloons. Ah, if good Conte had slipped "La Fisarmonica di Stradella" (putting here a version by Nada because it's really nice) into the CD version instead of the LP, at least the stretch from Piacenza onwards would have flown by on the song's notes: Broni, Casteggio, Voghera...

Tenses and sequence of events went a bit to hell, but I don’t feel like fixing it, sorry.