Rino Gaetano
Live & Rarities

It has become a trend to scrape the barrel of productions by deceased artists. From Jeff Buckley to Stieg Larsson, the respective families justify commercial operations of dubious taste, disguising them as tributes to memory. And, if you allow me, the doubt also arises for this "Live & Rarities," which collects as many as two CDs of demos, unreleased tracks, and a 1977 concert by Rino Gaetano.

Why after almost thirty years?

Perhaps due to a strong resurgence of his songs in recent years and their rediscovery by a young audience given the current meager landscape of "true entertainers." But, beyond the doubts, leaving aside foreign versions of well-known tracks that tickle the palates of die-hard fans more (an unpresentable "Gina," version of the better-known "Gianna", a "Maestra dell'amore" that makes one long for the original "Resta vile maschio dove vai" which wasn't a great piece either) and which were used to stretch the product a bit, the collection presents at least two precious unreleased tracks "La ballata di Renzo" and "I miei sogni d'anarchia". The first song, recorded in 1970, truly strikes for its prophecy, the protagonist of the song, after an accident, visits all hospitals but finds none, the exact unfortunate fate of Rino eleven years later. "I miei sogni d'anarchia" is a home recording, a song that encapsulates Rino's style, sparse accompaniment and '68 ideals, dreams and fantasies of love lived in the manner of Truffaut. In that song, there is the best Rino.

But the concert is also precious, giving us back the Rino we always wished to see on stage, before the record company circus sent him around to various music contests pretending to sing, a sad end that emerged right after the success of "Gianna". And in this role, Rino gives his best, assisted by the Crash group. And thus he does justice to "Il cielo è sempre più blu", as it should have been, but Rino speaks, freely, quotes "Novecento" by Bertolucci, and feels close to the spectators of San Cassiano, because, as he sang, "the necessity of living remains in me," that necessity of being a free man and artist at the same time, of expressing thoughts.

Today many artists claim they learned from him, but Italian music, in reality, remains orphaned of a clarity of thought and expression like the one Rino left us.