Vasco Rossi
Fronte del palco Live

THE REVIEW

(Vasco has gone senile) (Didn't you know? Now you do)

Let me explain.

In a recent interview, he mentioned that the usual mega-tour, which will start soon, will feature, for the first time, the full version of "Vita spericolata" which, he claims, he has never performed live. That's what he says, but in "Fronte del palco" (Marlon Brando would thank him), the entire song is present and then some. Now, it's understandable if he doesn't remember, given his age, but for his die-hard fans to go along with whatever nonsense he says is a bit harder to swallow. Sure, Vasco's fans have bought anything since 1993 onwards (before that, in my opinion, Vasco is untouchable), they've even endured that dreadful rhyme where he randomly mentions Switzerland and Topo Gigio.

However, in June 1989, the Blasco Tour was a colossal event. It was his first stadium tour, with the highlight being the concerts at San Siro Stadium, Milan, on June 18 and 19. Vasco had just released a phenomenal album, "Liberi liberi" (1989), which in my humble opinion is a masterpiece and his last great work, and ultimately, Vasco of the '80s was capable of great things, especially in arrangements, his quirky but effective lyrics, and as a homegrown and cursed rock star, he was credible (later he became a homegrown, cursed, and bourgeois rock star, as a well-known critic wrote in 1997, "Blasco or Mister Rossi?").

This particular tour is, perhaps, Vasco's greatest; it captures him at his best, nearly 40, with a band that would "kick ass" (oops), featuring a setlist that oozes the '80s (well, obviously) from every pore. It's practically the best Vasco. The strength and energy he puts into it are (almost) heroic, and in this regard, perhaps the CD doesn't do it justice, but the DVD of the event does: Vasco is an absolute powerhouse, in a physical shape he hasn't achieved before or since. It's the closest thing to an American rocker ever seen in Italy. That's it, it's his swan song but no one knew it. We still imagined great things, but instead, "Hey, you disappointed, remember who overdoes it" (yuck!).

The setlist is pure gold, from the initial 7 minutes of "Muoviti!" to the acoustic ballads including "Dillo alla luna". Some songs seem to improve over the originals: "Deviazioni" is more manic than ever heard before or since; "Lunedì" is even more fun compared to how it was known thanks to Andrea Innesto's "crazy" sax; "Liberi Liberi" has a screaming guitar solo by Andrea Braido that goes on for a good 4 minutes; Daniele Tedeschi's drums hit hard in "Vivere senza te"; Paul Martinez's bass works miracles in the 6 minutes of "Siamo solo noi".

Perhaps, sometimes, things are overdone and the game gets out of hand ("Domenica lunatica" is reproduced exactly as the album, why?), but there are moments of genuine goosebumps, above all the rendition of "Ridere di te" which is presented here in its most beautiful version (in this case, the sax works miracles, and then some).

An hour and a half of absolute rock (and pop) spectacle that would go to Vasco's head, and I believe that from here on, his being idolized always and forever by fans, going back to the initial argument, would be detrimental. Lowered musical and otherwise standards, self-repetition, and a pathetic desire to keep playing the provocateur tout-court which would be only sadness and anger. But the fans... well, we know.

P.S.: There's also a single, "Guarda dove vai". If only he had looked where he was going too.