Valentina Giovagnini
L'Amore Non Ha Fine

Valentina Giovagnini's album is released 7 years after her debut (exciting and almost stunning in its beauty and anomaly within our national scene) which she presented at Sanremo in 2002 with that little and enchanting blend of styles that was "Il passo silenzioso della neve".
She placed second, behind a then little-known Anna Tatangelo. It is far from our intention here to launch into unnecessary and childish critiques of the musical quality of the aforementioned or, even less, her sentimental choices. To put it bluntly, we couldn’t care less.

"L'Amore non ha fine" follows a path and attempts to start another: the title track serves as an exemplary opening, the worthy intervention of tenor Aldo Caputo crowns an excellent track for its elegance and impact. The rest of the tracks sway between references to the roots that made her famous and an electronic with syncopated rhythms and atmospheres that once again (and not predictably so) make us think of a Northern European tradition metabolized and re-proposed with personal fervor. "L'altra metà della luna", "L'attesa infinita", "Continuamente", "Non dimenticare mai", to name a few, fit perfectly in a singer-songwriter vein that recalls some works of Marina Rei (one wonders how Valentina would have rendered her "Un inverno da baciare" in a live performance) and so much that, in its simplicity and humility, this girl has made her own.

Someone says that nowadays it's difficult to "invent" something different; I don't know if that’s the case here, but both the intent and the result of this work lead to the creation of a cohesive sound, an entire musical dimension that will not fling open the doors of the unknown but knows how to leave us pleasantly dismayed.
"Sonnambula" should (and certainly could) have shone in Giovagnini's second Sanremo. It brings to mind the most languid and emotional moments of the Lamb, or perhaps it just evokes Valentina Giovagnini.
To such a tracklist we also grant some stumbles into uncertainty like "Bellissima idea" and "Nei silenzi miei", with overly ‘90s aftertastes, but the best this work offers comes in three precise moments: "Non piango più", a single released in 2003 as a preview of an album that might have been like this or perhaps not, has no other adjectives to be described but wonderful. No one wanted to give her a second chance, and the course of events has brought us to this point.

The second true surprise is hidden among the ghost tracks, that "Hallelujah" by Cohen which here is presented stripped of any frills.
They have all tried, or almost: Jeff Buckley above everyone else made it immortal, but we hardly care if the piano played by Valentina herself sounds more like a Bontempi than a Bosendorfer, because what is given to us within those words is simply her heart, and it's no small thing.

Finally, and that's the aspect that
releases the most melancholy, there’s the premise/promise that these songs carry with them.
A journey of self-discovery, a subtle analysis of one's abilities and an incentive to delve deeper, to improve, to express, to thrill even more.

Valentina Giovagnini passed away last January 3rd.

This album may not represent Valentina Giovagnini's last will, and there's no point in discussing how ethically acceptable it is to manage to publish a work like this only at this moment, driven by the allure of "young deaths" or by a consistent "wanting to do justice".
Her loss should not lead us to idolize a figure nor launch into overly enthusiastic considerations; what remains is a talent that will not have the chance to tell itself further.

What remains is a voice like few that the Italian panorama can boast.

What remains is the emotion in hearing her sing "L'eternità nasce da qui".