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Rating: The Canzoni della Cupa never stop buzzing in my head. An album that continues to pleasantly torture me since I first closed my fingers around its cover, and it is still doing so now, a few weeks after experiencing its pieces live, on a date in the infamous Polvere tour: my unforgettable first time with Vinicio!
The journey to Sogliano was rather pleasant. The traffic was quite smooth, which, without false modesty, I had anticipated; after all, I define myself as a strategic “roadster,” who generally knows when to start and when to give up. It’s no coincidence, in fact, that I chose to leave on a Sunday afternoon to cover the two and a half hours that separated me from the aforementioned Romagna town, rather than choosing the previous Friday’s date in Villafranca, which would have undoubtedly brought me to the Verona south ring road at eight in the evening: I know well how stressful that would have been, especially after eight hours of work on my back.
The vast plains of Romagna accompanied me throughout the journey, before the last ten kilometers, where I had to climb up the hill, facing rather tricky hairpin bends (imagine a crushed U). Arriving in Sogliano, I immediately spotted the location: there were barriers blocking the upper part of the town, and dozens of policemen and civil protection members, intent on surrounding the barriers, with their reflective jackets glittering in the sun. One of them advised me to park along the road, which I decided to follow until I came across a gigantic image of the Vitruvian Man by Leonardo – made in leveled wood panels – resting on a grassy traffic island of a small roundabout. Unintentionally, I had found my landmark. I passed the roundabout and parked a hundred meters from it: I had finally found a grassy and comfortable flat space to park the car.
Shortly after, I walked towards the location. The village was quite charming; it almost seemed like a more modern-looking Assisi. I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the Bell Tower of San Lorenzo – which would help me find Piazza Matteotti, the concert venue – but the imposing surrounding valleys offered my eyes a wonderful panorama, often forcing me to avert my gaze from the goal: they seemed to be there specifically to make my walk more pleasant. Once in the center, I saw the Polvere tour poster and obviously realized I was on the right track; soon thereafter, I found the fenced area, which I crossed to take a stony uphill path leading to the square.
The location looked very promising. Moving along the square, I felt the smell of history crossing my nostrils. In that place, in fact, many years ago, the family of Lucius Cornelius Sulla, one of the most famous Roman dictators in history, had moved. Later, from the Middle Ages, the town was managed by the Malatesta, Lords of Rimini, who built a castle – later demolished in the nineteenth century – right in the spot where the square stands today. I immediately thought that the ancient atmosphere would give more evocative – and aesthetic – charge to Vinicio’s performance, he too a bard of diverse eras traversed by human civilization. The stage distinctly recalled the atmosphere of the new album; a wheat field, crafted quite faithfully, with the instrumentation visible beyond the spikes: battente and electric guitar, guitarron, banjo, vielle, drums, cubba cubba, and at the back, the enormous double bass rising majestically above the “grain.”
Not having seen any video of the Polvere tour, there I was wondering which “opener” would kick off the setlist, when the musicians took the stage spreading vocal patterns similar to those launched by the Zulus in the midst of an African tribal dance. A few seconds later, the acoustic riff of La bestia nel grano began as Vinicio entered the scene amid a myriad of blinding lights, meant to represent the sweaty “Ora della controra” or the noon sun, which casts no shadow on the earth and in the grain, where the reaper, blinded by flashes launched by the overhead disk of fire, fights with his false omens, unsuccessfully trying to chase away the imaginary beasts threatening life in the field: “Is it a fox? Is it an owl? Is it a quail? Is it a wolf? It sways in the grain… it sways in the grain.” On this occasion, Capossela chose to play the infamous Beast in a bizarre and folkloric (even somewhat tragicomic) way, maneuvering among the instruments in an “animalistic” dance, and shouting “Uhss catch the beast in the grain, Uhss chase away the beast from the grain, Aehh!” to bestow the audience with a strong emotional and visual impact right from the start. Then it was the turn of Femmine, another ethnic arrangement masterfully introduced by the female backing vocalist, while Vinicio took the opportunity to resume his human form and grab the guitar.
I then began to suspect that perhaps I would hear a lot of “Cupa” in that live show, and I didn’t mind because, as you know, I remain madly in love with the new album. My suspicions materialized as the setlist progressed when I could listen to some traditional pieces included in the Polvere album – the first part of the new album – like La padrona mia, Zompa la rondinella, Pettarossa, Nachecici; all tracks that forced the square to engage in a rough and unequal folk dance I wished would never end. I was also happy to hear a few songs from Ombra, like the carnivalesque Componidori – with drums and masks on stage – the dark and sacred La notte di San Giovanni, the nocturnal blues of Scorza di mulo – with a single blue light cone slantingly crossing the stage – and the cynical polka Lo sposalizio di Maloservizio, where Vinicio smartly made use of the verse “From the wedding hall to the cemetery gate” to improvise a “mini-concept” on death, collapsing to the ground at the end of the track, around the musicians who desperately shouted: “Vinicio is dead! Vinicio is dead!” before the poor guy revived to take up a sinister stick, at the tip of which “perched” a barn owl with red eyes – inexorably fixed on the spectators – and began macabrely singing: “And they took him to the cemetery, swollen with beer, without regret…” It was the first throwback to the old repertoire.
I certainly did not expect to hear La marcia del Camposanto from a gigantic album like Canzoni a manovella (2000), which contains many other noteworthy gems. No worries: despite the “studio version” often being snubbed by my auditory apparatus, I must say that live it acquired a fascinating allure, as did the performance of Signora Luna, another throwback I preferred to hear instead of the more well-known Con una Rosa – which will probably be reserved for the winter tour. The ethnic and minimal approach from an execution standpoint (only flute and acoustic guitar) was also very nice, thanks to which Signora Luna was presented in an alternative version, yet in line with the agricultural vibe of the new album – so forget the psych rock version of the official live, Nel niente sotto il sole. Pena dell’alma followed the same trajectory, with the accordion replacing the piano, while a delightful golden light – filtering through the blonde spikes of grain – made the bodies of the musicians shine.
In a concert that often touched on themes such as love and death, the concept of resurrection, the rebirth of L’uomo vivo, certainly could not be missing, to remember Il Gioia, the historic festivity of Scicli, where the statue of Christ is paraded along the city streets – a way to solemnize the Christian Easter. The piece threw the square into a mystical ecstasy: six minutes unraveled in a multitude of sweaty and bouncing bodies, under an intricate myriad of applause-craving hands towards the sky. Naturally, among the indispensable hits paraded Il ballo di San Vito, where I heard an untamed Capossela evoke Dionysus during the opening riff – after two hours of drinking from the wine flask, it was entirely normal – while the stage was invaded by a pleasant combination of purple and incandescent lights.
I enjoyed listening to the audience intent on singing Romagna mia before the encore, which surprised Vinicio himself, who thanked the audience, although honestly, I didn’t quite understand why. A surprise at the end: a convincing cover of Se perdo anche te by Gianni Moranti, carried out with a more country approach, which Vinicio justified by saying: “We’ll make it very Gianni Cash!” The reason for the piece is linked to a YouTube post on Morandi’s official channel – just two days before the concert – where Gianni performs about half a minute of La padrona mia. Vinicio wanted to reciprocate the gesture on stage, and not only that, as the day after the concert, he would also shoot a short video on his official channel. The last minutes were entrusted to Ultimo amore, when only very little was left before the musicians’ final farewell.
In the end, those two and a half hours of concert passed, while another two and a half hours awaited me for the return journey. An evening I will remember for a long time, thanks to which I found the inspiration to write this text. In apologizing for speaking about Capossela once again, I hope you can accept this pitiful, predictable, but sincere justification: when you like something, you can’t help but talk about it to others.
Dragonstar
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