If the song Gabbani had sung Battiato, would not have complained about anyone.
Like millions of italians, I noted the cute little mouse moustache fidgeting on the stage of Sanremo without producing in me any kind of attention, only a certain widespread annoyance for a language fisicomusicale tacky not to have me involved. A refusal epidermal as well as the brain. In the meantime, I noticed the natural attraction of youth and for the more feminine to the character, the neurons, mirror girls, elderly and not, were activated by the movements of the rattocantante, arousing an emulation that is broken almost immediately in the arts of the various sciagurate by me observed. Little evil, the little dancing have always been easy to grip and perceptions about the uterinomusicali of the people rose, nothing new under the sun, after a few seconds the case was resolved and I was already on to something else. Then the podium, again the strange mouse jumping, the regal Mannoia and the talented Ermal Meta forced to give up. Ok, the case deserved more attention.
Because an adult's average education does not digest the victory of Gabbani? Text a message it launches, some citation the osa, in watermark, it locates a certain amount of intelligence. Occidentali's Karma, written by Fabio Ilacqua (a guy caught and antismartphone retired to his garden in the countryside of varese and already the author of Amen), is the daughter of the readings and considerations wet of anthropology, poetry and social criticism. Together with the monkey and the rat's on that stage dancing, and Marx, Morris, Quasimodo, and a relative of the Dalai Lama. A nice frullatone but still interesting for the audience scicchissima of the Ariston. Then if the song in any way hold, the problem what is it exactly?
The problem is that he had a reason Steinbeck. Seen that is dancing between the quotes then we dance: The man is an animal that lives in the habits, becomes attached to places and hates the changes. To us, that we passed forty, in spite of a valiant attempt to flexibility, do not like to be destabilized, we have our paths and the archives of the mental in any way ordered, including and especially unknowingly. It is a fact that the place steinbeckiano song Gabbani, our brain is already inhabited. There are the Helium, with label comic Songs are full of words but intelligent, there is Gaber, there is Jannacci, but above all, there is Battiato, with label Songs also sometimes funny but deep abbestia and we do not want to changes or intrusions, the staff is full and we are fond of.
When the Franco was waiting with the big nose and the tail in the eighties, seeking for a permanent center of gravity, or screaming cuccuruccuccù paloma with a megaphone, well, were just a few to try to find messages in his works, the most widespread trend was the one to quote him as freak or phenomenon that was cool to show off as a new and incomprehensible. For the audience at home, to the belly of the country, it was just a weird guy that infested the music programs. But who is this cretin? What the hell is she saying? Still?
Battiato, a process typically italic of down-up reputation, only after many years, it progressively became supercolto and then the master, leaving behind the skins, unusual jester with wild boars and white old breton.
The problem is, therefore, Francesco Gabbani in his person. Her being new and not yet saved with a name on top of the solid icons already allocated. He irritates our thoughts and our mental order. We do not want to associate messages of a thickness to his insipid stage presence, we defend ourselves, take it to the lightness of being worthy of nothing, together with the whole of the festival that has spoiled.
We will understand only with the passage of time if the mouse you will earn the grades to be received and to switch from the jester to the deep. However, the road is long and troubled, we talk about careers, decades of true highlanders of the music that you are defended in battle with maces and swords. And then in the mouth of the wolf Francesco and the eye to the meat grinder of music today, you will not like it but at least I understand why.
In the meantime, dear Fabio Ilacqua, for my peace of mind, go back in time, from the song Battiato, fagliela sing and dance and everything will be as before thanks.