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Rating: Is there something wrong with having fun...?
This is the question that has been haunting me a lot lately, and which would have devastated me on Saturday evening if I hadn't spent my time having fun like a madman. Yes, I know...: Vasco, the reigning market, the alleged imitation, the certain grandstanding, the past as a drug addict, not being an example, having drunk, screwed, and who knows what else, obviously loving little girls (and the courage to say it), the money-making machine, the industry, the façade of professionalism, the sheepish crowd, and everyone singing and hugging and smoking, and on it goes... And it's not that I don't have doubts, those who read me know it. It's just that, maybe it's the age, maybe it's a fundamentally good moment, maybe it's because the music of early Vasco is a good part of my best youth, or maybe because that evening there were no new records to propose, so the repertoire was pleasantly turned to the past. Whatever it is, I repeat, I had fun like a madman.
The Stadio Delle Alpi, the most modern and hyped structure that the history of architecture remembers, is as beautiful as it is useless, and, beautifully full of people, it is objectively a show within a show. The whole crowd singing is then an additional show within the show. And it's always like this. But, as time goes by, things improve at Vasco's concerts. There are at least four generations. The little girl next to me, cute (Vasco-wise talking, as if to gobble her up) was probably barely of age, but not necessarily. Behind me, there were a couple of old-timers like myself, but unlike me, they had brought their offspring. In between, twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings. Junkies, potheads, shoving, climbing over, insults, bottles of piss, and various mess? Not at all: lots of smiling, singing, and dancing people.
The repertoire ranged from albums like "c'è chi dice no," mysteriously performed almost in its entirety, to "cosa succede in città" and "gli spari sopra," with some interesting escapes into the distant past (an exhilarating "voglio andare al mare," absolutely philological: the drummer recreated the original part with meticulous detail and undeniable lust). Very few recent things (not even one per album). Some ballads ("Sally" and "un senso") certainly enriched by the "live" performance. Slightly revamped and very tight group. Rare professionalism in our parts. Whether you like it or not, the show was blatantly Western, in the good (purity of sound, perfect parts, decidedly professional musicians) and the bad (that air of a big show created in a lab for fun, but with a fake aftertaste, like Gardaland or certain wines aged in flattish barriques). Then him: showman, bear, fool, genius, pig, real, fake, wise, goof, and more. Still a national monument, as Sordi and Pavarotti were, and, like all national monuments, capable of moving, angering, making you laugh, and making you enjoy.
The fact is that the jump into the very early antiquity of "anima fragile" moved, the uselessness of a track like "stupido hotel" (with presentations) made you angry, "bollicine", for better or for worse (stupid and brilliant rite, sung by everyone with him showboating around the stage), made you laugh and songs like "ciao" or "vivere una favola" were enjoyable. It ends as it has for almost thirty years now: with the long solo of "albachiara", with people starting to leave because the mass always ends the same way. Then, outside, you eat a plastic sandwich or have a beer, pleasantly fake and enjoyable like those at the entrance. Even dropping five euros to the parking attendant with an orange ticket was laughed off beautifully.
In short...: the question remains. Is there something wrong with having fun? Bring on the insults.
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