Pino Daniele
E sona mo'

THE REVIEW

The lightness and safety, the calm and amused flaunting of one's technical and artistic means, an audience hanging onto the voice emitted from the slender gap between the vocal cords of the singer-guitarist. A bit like Maradona, who, having reached the pinnacle, goes to his audience to entertain and showcase masterful moves.
This is Pino Daniele presenting himself in Cava de’ Tirreni (Sa), literally riding his certainties, ready to conduct the orchestra of the audience with a simple raise of his eyebrows. And what an audience, his. From the traces of this work emerges an explosive tension (in every sense, given that occasionally there's the bang of some firecracker), a collection of countless voices always on the brink of an ovation and tribute to the three on stage, who bring the songwriter's repertoire to life. It's May 1993 and the Mediterranean bluesman has just released his latest album, Che Dio ti benedica - in the opinion of the writer, a true first step into the void, despite commercial success.

Why try this live performance? It's a truly heartfelt and engaged evening performance (also an official release). I would dare to say, Daniele's last homage to a certain type of audience. And perhaps also a welcome to the hordes of new enthusiasts, devoted to his simpler lyrics and sounds less characterized by a quintessentially Neapolitan atmosphere. Unlike the more picturesque and characteristic Live Sciò!, this album intertwines gentle vocal delicacy and, above all, the sound of a few soft instruments: the evening is fundamentally acoustic and semi-acoustic, caressed by gentle electrics and percussion that seem to be moved by a sea breeze, sometimes more insistent, sometimes barely noticeable. Pino sports hyper-grizzled, coiffed hair and a sculpted beard, a bit on the heavier side, with sunken eyes that speak of many years dedicated to others.
From A me me piace o’ blues to O’ scarafone, the album climbs along Daniele’s already very long career at the time, attempting to reinterpret music already unique in itself, putting it in pajamas and slippers and laying it on a bed. It's chilling music, which makes me think of being atop Vesuvius overlooking the gulf, where all the chaos below disappears. The lyrics are the only real glue between the ground and the feet of the home listener: if you know them, you follow along, otherwise, you can drift away with the music and end up who knows where. On stage, three friends play with great familiarity, “messicaneggiando” and syncopating familiar rhythms, which in this state are a bit disorienting. The usual energy and grit are missing: these are replaced by other forms of connectivity with the audience, which appreciates and perceives this new form of Daniele as very valid.

He, comfortably seated up there, with a sea of heads in front of him, doles out numerous guitar pieces of great class, demonstrating he can calmly hold his own against a Clapton or other great interpreters of blues guitar for large audiences. I wouldn't want to make a sacrilegious statement by claiming that on that stage they played with enjoyment as if in an inspired and relaxed studio rehearsal session. Worth a try, in short.
Not the greatest, also due to the tracklist, which, honestly, doesn't thrill me. But overall very good and indicative of a transition that was turning towards its definitive completion for an artist who has always accompanied me in the '80s convertible of a friend, through sleepless nights on the winding roads of the Amalfi Coast. I believe that only those who know certain places and love the blues, especially this blues, can understand how beautiful it is to live. Even angrily.