•
Rating:
Life has given me the peculiar fortune of living beneath a mountain... a protector against adverse winds, on a raised hill from which I can see the coast, and consequently the sea. A sort of basin, to be clear. There is not a day that I don't manage to catch sight of the sun on the horizon, especially at sunset, when everything around me is covered in a golden hue, capable of making the tallest and mightiest of shadows vanish, that of the mountain. Everything becomes warmer, and the torpor consoles you. A sort of temporary kintsugi that manages to connect sky and earth for 20-30 minutes.
No less than this, I am situated near the airport, a cloud of layovers and departures where countless planes come and go, tracing the same routes and consuming the sky. Watching them, I ponder and fantasize. I think of those perhaps leaving forever or those who have decided to return. There are those who become a dot and those who disappear into the clouds. Who knows if I will see them again. Alongside, I also think about the reasons that led them to travel, their melancholies, hopes, their failures, or their achievements. Everything that involves rolling the dice and playing, with the risk of losing or winning everything. Fighting.
And I, from afar, immobile and defeated, cannot play and move forward, any dice I roll shows a one and returns me to the starting point, making me die a little every day: the languishing of the flesh, deteriorated and putrid, kept alive only by the rabid buzzing of some fly... and of the spirit, clouded by ominous iron gusts.
The record fundamentally talks about nothing else: comings and goings, sea and horizons, growths with redirections and a stirred past that manages to ram any sailor reaching out to the unknown. They have already talked about it abundantly... and also better than me.
There are no virtuosities; it is all very subdued and I must say that I see myself in this. If from my home I have only seen and hypothesized, with this record I have managed to feel something.
I just need the strength to break the overstretched rope and change my world, but I will think about it later; now, I'm going out as the sun is setting.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
02 Velasquez (07:41)
Ahi Velasquez, dove porti la mia vita?
un fiore di camposi è impigliato fra le dita,
e tante stelle, tante nelle notti chiare,
e mille lune, mille dune da scoprire.
Ahi Velasquez, non ti avessi mai seguito,
con te non si torna una volta sola indietro:
in mezzo ai venti, sempre genti da salvare,
sei morto mille volte senza mai morire.
Un vecchio zingaro ungherese
di te parlando mi giurò
che c'eri prima di suo padre,
più in là nel tempo non andò.
I cerchi del tuo tronco sono
ferite d'armi e di parole
che mai nessuno vendicò
Ahi Velasquez, com'è duro questo amore.
Mi pesa la notte prima di ricominciare:
e tante veglie, come soglie di un mistero,
per arrivare sempre più vicino al vero...
Ahi Velasquez certe sere quanta voglia,
fermare la vela e ritornare da mia moglie;
e tu mi dici: "Fatti scrivere", è normale,
per te bisogna sempre scrivere e lottare.
E la tempesta ci sorprese
due miglia dopo Capo Horn:
se ne rideva delle offese,
in mezzo al ponte si distese
e fino all'alba mi cantò
Ragazze, terre, contadini,
da sempre popoli e padroni,
fu lì che tutto comincò.
Ahi Velasquez fino a quando inventeremo
un nido di rose ai piedi dell'arcobaleno,
e tante stelle, tante nelle notti chiare
per questo mondo, questo mondo da cambiare?
ahi Velasquez, ahi chitarra come spada,
mantello di sabbia, orecchio mozzo, antica sfida,
eterna attesa, corda tesa da spazzare,
e tanta voglia, tanta voglia di tornare...
Loading comments slowly
Other reviews
By iside
"Geni, you either are from the beginning or you are not anymore/ I live in a world where we are all good, but none is a genius."
"We all think we are the only ones doing something important, and instead we only repeat other people's concepts; or, anyway, many of us in the same way are saying the same thing."
By Carlo V.
The elixir is the journey into the unknown, the challenge to what is unknown, always holding your head high despite the total inability to understand what will be.
Here lies everything, or almost everything, of the professor, and if you like this type of approach, where the entire output of an artist is encapsulated in an LP or a track, here I could almost say that there’s a track that is ‘the’ track, the one where all of Vecchioni is present, all his artistic strength and poetic gentleness, namely ‘Figlia.’
