Vasco Rossi
C'è Chi Dice No

THE REVIEW

It was inevitable that sooner or later I would have to write about Vasco. Actually, many, knowing me, were wondering why I, being registered for 2 months, hadn’t done it yet. Vasco is no longer himself. It’s been said and reiterated in many reviews here. So I wanted to retrace his discography backward, to see the last time he was truly himself, and not a drunken overweight man manipulated by Fernanda Pivano and company, by the record label, by mega-events, by merchandising.

I could be wrong, but this "C'è chi dice no" from 1987 is perhaps the last example of the true Vasco. A handful of tracks (the album doesn’t exceed 40 minutes in length), containing all the classics: rock tracks (the fun "'Blasco' Rossi"), dreamy ("Vivere una favola"), irreverent ("Lunedì"). Another female portrait, after Albachiara, Toffee, and Jenny, now it’s Giulia’s turn, who knows how to take the life she wants, far from the 16 years of Gabri, from Sally’s weakness, and Laura's child. Tracks that all entered Vasco's history and a bit of Italian rock (assuming this is an acceptable definition). A separate discussion for the title track. A harsh anthem of rebellion, against clichés and conformity, against those who will settle for less. Vasco opposes heavy guitars and an angry voice in what is somewhat a prequel to "Mi si escludeva". Alongside the loyal Riva, Elmi, and Curreri, a portrait of Vasco, at least as he wanted to present himself then and as I always want to remember him: long hair held by a bandana, mirrored sunglasses to hide the blue eyes clouded by coke, ripped jeans, the leather jacket. As clichéd as you want but the grand old man is forgiven for everything... except having sold out to those who settle, to the one who writes for the newspaper, to the girls who throw bras at him on stage.

Sad to say and even sadder to see, now reduced to collecting every kind of award left and right, hailed as a prophet, covered in money with each breath he takes, producing unclassifiable records (except for a few small gems), or, more plausibly, live compilations, double anthologies, triple best-ofs. A brief flicker with "Canzoni per me" (the best album of his "artistic maturity") and then emptiness. Zero willingness to question himself, zero novelty, zero enthusiasm in favor of a shameful bank account.
Whoever noticed him with "vorrei stringerti le braccia intorno al collo e baciarti dappertutto" and similar things if you listen to him here and in the previous albums, maybe finding vintage editions that are not remastered. The rough sound, the eighties arrangements, the raw voice and disarming lyrics will make you see beyond the smoke screen of the hundred thousand plus of the various Imola and S. Siro venues. This is the real Vasco.

P.S. Who remembers the film shot as a promo for this album? "Ciao Mà" in which Claudia Gerini (a little girl!!) makes her debut and Vasco plays himself. An absolutely unmissable trash cult-movie.