Roberto Vecchioni
Sogna, ragazzo, sogna

I had sworn to myself, about two years ago, that I would no longer listen to Italian music. Not because I didn't consider it to be on par with what I was listening to at the time, or with what I still listen to now, but simply because I couldn't relate to any song. Not a single one could give me the same feelings that others could. I tried everything, but nothing managed to please me. From the classics, De André, Francesco Guccini, Lucio Dalla, De Gregori, to the more modern ones, but most of them made me hate the genre even more, if that's possible.

I remember clearly, however, that since childhood, I remained attached to a song, whose verses, atmosphere, and chorus have stayed fixed in my mind until today, even now as I am writing these lines. It is "Figlio, Figlio, Figlio" by Roberto Vecchioni, a singer-songwriter I have never properly listened to, of whom I only know this song and remember some phrases from "Samarcanda," but whom I otherwise completely ignored. I also remember that it was my father who made me listen to that song, and even today I can't get out of my head the look he gave me for those 4 minutes, reflective and attentive, while I listened. But maybe it's also me who doesn't want to remove that memory.

Some time ago, I decided to break the silence between myself and Italian music, by listening to a random album by Vecchioni. I opted for "Sogna Ragazzo, Sogna." Not a random choice, given that the cover fascinated me from the first moment. I won't waste time explaining song by song, because it would be quite futile and tedious, but in that short hour of listening, I felt as if I had gone back two years. I listened to that album practically every day, because the desire to relive those years was so strong. It felt as if, by listening and listening again, something was forming in me that had been missing until now.

It was like a sort of reconciliation with a type of music I had completely set aside, and it’s amazing how a couple of listens can make you feel all that. In listening to this CD, I was able to relive those times when I listened to Italian music sporadically, without paying much attention, but which managed to leave a memory that, over time, I went back to relive. I apologize for not talking much about the album, but it really is difficult for me to list the objective characteristics of this record, because most of what it left me with falls largely on my person, but I hope nonetheless that you can appreciate it.

"And life is so strong, that it crosses walls to make itself seen

Life is so true, that it seems impossible to have to leave it

Life is so great, that when you are on the verge of dying

You will plant an olive tree, still convinced to see it bloom."