Vasco Rossi
Il mondo che vorrei

Here, everything is divided... 

And who ever said we should only be divided over supposedly serious matters...? The showgirl minister, the usual Middle East, Berlusconi's fourth term, Inter's championship, the reasons for the left's defeat... And Vasco. Yes: Vasco. No one splits the fan base like he does. He's a fraud, a good-for-nothing. The other Rossi, Fausto, is much better. He writes shitty lyrics, listen here (and the lyrics are quoted in full). And the classic evergreen insults, he's a drug addict, a bad example, a fraud.

Meanwhile, his albums are now almost the only ones that sell, and if he did ten consecutive nights at San Siro, they would always sell out. Does a new album come out? It's an event in itself and a guaranteed success.

Are we capable of analyzing it, almost like an exegesis (but no: he doesn't deserve it!), or do we let the message and the fact pass, as if "that's how the world goes" is a good explanation for everything?

Let's start with the title. As always, the title of Vasco's albums is that of one of the main tracks of the album. Sometimes (like today) one of the more beautiful ones, often (Stupido hotel, Buoni o cattivi) not. Today, the title (ugly as a title but in my opinion not as a song) is "Il mondo che vorrei", one of the two ballads on the album, both good, nostalgic, pleasantly old-fashioned, reflecting the Vasco we prefer and always want. The other one (better than the first) is "Adesso che sono qui", an autobiography with nostalgia for Topo Gigio. Perhaps more understandable for those who have (maybe abundantly) passed thirty and live less poetry than when their wallet was empty, while their head was much, much fuller... Vasco, with these two tracks, whether you like it or not, seems to want to win over the "old" audience, those over thirty, who buy more than download, who go to concerts because, after all, it's tradition and having fun is not a sin, and who, in plain words, ask nothing more of the rocker from Zocca than to be a good caricature of himself, professional and entertaining.

The major perplexities, however, come from the other tracks (including a cameo from Slash): similar rhythms, hyper-polished production despite abundant use of various overdrives, excellent instrumental performances, high professional level, total or almost disengagement in the lyrics as well as an air of "already heard" in almost all the music. On the other hand, the authors are always the same, and it's been exactly thirty years since the first album. And, as someone said, the guitar strings are still six, and the notes are seven.

Surely, someone is thinking: "so why doesn't he retire?". Because Fiat didn't close down after selling the Uno massively, and Barilla hasn't thrown in the towel after the first macaroni.

And Vasco, by now, is nothing but an industry. An industry that sells a lot, produces stellar profits, and puts mass products (in both a good and bad sense) of good quality on the market. Attractive. Cunning. Very well-packaged.

In short, he defends the brand. And he's right, both from his perspective and that of his team, as well as from those who pay to have fun, like in Las Vegas, like in Gardaland.

However, singer-songwriter music, except for sporadic and increasingly rare flashes, resides elsewhere.

But fundamentally, who still cares about singer-songwriter music...? And who ever said, beyond reasonable doubt, that Vasco is or was a singer-songwriter? But what are singer-songwriters, anyway?

One page is not enough.

Vasco sells in abundance. Some people get angry. Others follow suit. The perplexed, after overcoming their inner conflicts, like everyone else, eventually get angry or follow suit, or both.