Renato Zero
Leoni si nasce

THE REVIEW

1984. Renato Zero begins working on his new album. He is coming off a long string of successes, and everything suggests it will be the same this time... and yet... Renato has sensed that something is changing in the attitude of both the public and the media... he has no tangible data to base this impression on; he relies, as the album will later demonstrate, on intuition, on instinct. He is disappointed by the closure of the big top, perhaps a bit tired after so many years in the limelight. It is the music that is changing, Italy itself. The plastic years, those of the drinking Milan, find him suddenly unprepared, scattered, out of place and out of time.

"Leoni si nasce" is one of Renato's most autobiographical albums, a record in which he lays bare his fears, his suspicions, his anger. A troubled work, chock-full of second thoughts (I personally have listened to three different versions of "Frenesia", "Il leone", "Il prezzo" and nothing excludes that the same uncertainty characterized the recording of the other tracks).
Renato feels uncomfortable, hunted, besieged. And, like any wounded beast (because when he puts his mind to it, he is a beast) that senses danger, he responds by unsheathing his claws.
He shows up at the Rome zoo in feline attire escorted by pseudo-aborigines: he decides to respond to the siege by ramping up the disguise, turning his mask into a parody. And then the album, where all his bad thoughts find a place: the world full of false and hypocritical people ("Da uomo a uomo"), like a set, like fiction ("Si gira"), the inability to accept oneself/to be accepted for who you are ("Per non essere così"), false friends plotting behind one's back ("Sospetto"), again the siege and self-defense ("Pelle"), the difficulty in conforming to the absurd rhythms of society ("Frenesia"), still the discomfort of the present with a vague hope for the future ("Oscuro futuro"); then he roars trying to exorcise the enemies ("Il leone"), once again denunciation of that world in which he does not find himself ("Il prezzo"), up to the final regret ("Giorni"), in which he seems to almost bid farewell to his audience, ominously foreseeing the about-face that many of his fans will reserve for him, lasting until "Voyeur".

It's a kitschy, exaggerated Renato, a colossus Renato, in the photos, in the introduction and the finale, in the high production costs for the time. A Renato aware that the fairy tale is about to end but who nevertheless does not passively succumb to this destiny that wants to drag him back into anonymity. No, Renato loudly proclaims his anger, in an open challenge, without fear, perhaps disjointed, but certainly sincere to those who would like to cage him in his glorious past, making him a monument to himself.

The sales will prove him wrong, but listening today to that cry of a wounded beast, one cannot help but applaud Renato for his courage. Also because he is still here. Still in the race. Still strong. Still standing.