Paolo Conte, il maestro, was born on 6 January 1937 in Asti (Piemonte). Look at his face: There you see the crevices and sandpaper-stubble and eccentric beauty that sound in his voice; there you see the stealthy, lupine night-wisdom he channels from Baudelaire and other sages.
Dearest maestro, what a desolate world it would be without your vermouth-and-Gauloises timbre, without your songs that slither and bound from gutbucket to Buenos Aires to the vast, chilly expanses between the stars.
Did you know that the maestro did not write the words of “Azzurro”? They were penned by one Vito Pallavicini, who also wrote the lyrics of “Genova per noi” (quite possibly my desert-island song). Strange, because “Azzurro” has always seemed to me quintessentially contiano, whereas it turns out that, in fact, the maestro may be pallaviciniano.
But doesn’t that somehow make sense, given the maestro’s wry, oblique genius? (Most Italians, anyway, seem to think that Adriano Celentano wrote “Azzurro.”) (Sì, B, penso proprio a te—e con affetto smisurato.)
The c. 1985 clip of “Azzurro” on YouTube is perfection. What could be more beautiful than the shy smile the maestro flashes towards the end? You can also see and hear the Azzurri from several years ago singing “Azzurro” in support of a charity. In July 2006, when the Azzurri frolicked and humped at the Olympiastadion,“Azzurro” played over the loudspeakers, the maestro’s song telling for once of the misery of others:
Azzurro, il pomeriggio è troppo azzurro e lungo per me…
Give a listen, too, to the wonderful pianist Stefano Bollani and his trio riffing on “Azzurro.” (Bollani, incidentally, plays the Casa Italiana at Columbia University on 6 February.)
Have you heard “Alle prese con una verde milonga” in the company of someone luscious—say, at 3:00 am, with naught but a cigarette’s crimson tip glowing in the dark? (If not, then stop reading this blog and go live, my child.) Did you catch the music inside the music—the deep, dizzying pools of desire that whisper their siren-songs beneath that quiet bassline?
Who but the maestro gives us such beauties?
In the secret universe (the one that makes sense), I am the maestro’s love-child with Dalida.
P.S. Here is another fabulous page about Piemonte.
Fra tanti versi delle sue canzoni (che amo) ora mi viene in mente "passa una mano qui, così / sopra i miei lividi" (Gli impermeabili).
Carino qui :)))
Posted by: Marcello | 06 February 2007 at 21:57