Patty Pravo
Bye Bye Patty

Pretending to be a lady (more plausibly: a classic Venetian swearer, who over time turned into a brash Roman type), boasting a voice timbre and a mop of yellow hair that certainly make her a character, Nicoletta has, for many years, joined the ranks of those who did not manage to age as nature intended.

She let herself be ensnared by her own narcissism, by some lying cosmetic doctor, or maybe by some fellow sufferer: Vanoni? Bertè? Spagna? Pavone? All these ladies of Italian music, and she among them, have long flaunted a porcelain-like face where the features are running away from each other, in a grotesque and widespread swelling. That’s just at a standstill... As soon as the aforesaid try to talk, to laugh, or to make any other expressive face, the Botox manages to clip the work of the facial muscles and produces strange, alien, minimalist expressions.

But recently, wandering on the web, I stumbled upon an old song by Strambelli from just under thirty years ago, which was brought to Sanremo 1997 and, if I remember correctly, only made it to eighth place, to her great disappointment and in what was objectively an injustice. That year, Jalisse won, can you believe it, with the legendary “Fiumi di parole”—while instead there were the young Nek and his iconic “Laura non c’è”, but above all the little blonde Venetian with “…E dimmi che non vuoi morire”, precisely the song that sparked this late rekindling in me.

Music by Curreri, the one from Stadio; lyrics by Vasco, the usual effective jumble of hanging words, almost slogans—the most striking at the start of the chorus, “La cambio io la vita che…”, which would have deserved to become the actual title. It’s the typical well-made Italian ballad, where the verses lazily linger on a couple of chords (but nice ones, adorned with ninths and sevenths) and then soars bravely in the chorus, with a harmonic and melodic sequence you just can’t help but admire.

And which album does this astounding song belong to? This very album… live! Meaning it opens the set, in its studio version, and then leaves room for a long string of hits, old, very old, or less old, performed by Nicoletta on a recent tour across Italy. The singer is backed by a precise, professional band and her thick, sultry contralto—surprising for that petite five-foot frame—reverberates through theaters and clubs showing her usual personality, but to be honest, not much pitch accuracy. Oh well.

The hits from her long, seemingly endless career are all here: the emancipating “Qui e là”, the redeeming “La Bambola”, the youthful “Ragazzo Triste”, the inevitable “Pensiero stupendo”, and so on and so forth. That’s why I bought it, at a bargain price: first Patty record to enter my CD library, and also the last… I’m just fine like this from now on, “served”.

I even met her! Many years ago, in a dance hall/disco in Gatteo Mare. She was with Maurizio Vandelli, and they had come together to say hi to De Gregori who, at the beginning of his career or so, was there for a little voice-and-acoustic-guitar concert, a mid-evening cameo. Quite a strange pair, I noticed: Maurizio was half a meter taller than her. In the dressing rooms, at a certain point, we all broke into a gigantic “Hey Jude”—the three of them, plus the band performing that night at the club, plus some of their friends, myself included.