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16 September 2011

Genesis of a mortal

I feel like a zombie these days. A bad fixed tooth generated a monstrous infection that forced me on antibiotics. The mouthwash that goes with it is disgusting, still I feel this urge to put anything in my mouth, because on Monday I'll start dieting and I don't want to miss a thing. Very Elda's style. I can't believe what a self-destructive moron I can be sometimes. Like when I know caffeine keeps me going and I still drink Coke or Cappuccino late in the afternoon. It must be my mother's genes.

It's when I feel all messed up like this that I listen to Dimmelo te obsessively. It's so energy radiating, fast-paced rock, psychedelic at times, compelling and so sarcastically interpreted that it motivates you to send the whole world fuck itself. Oh yes, exactly! Vasco Rossi's music is perfect for this purpose. It's so free of cliches and obligations that you feel a great dose of liberation each time. 

via Wiki

Il Blasco is someone I discovered later in his career, when his middle life crisis was more important than a lifetime of fame. It's the rockstar who comes to terms with his life who touched me and drove me to forget the voice of a wild generation and concentrate on his weakness. Because in the recent years he started to send different messages, the ones of a person who thinks life is a bitch and had to find way to deal with it, no matter what. It's then that I started to watch his videos, read his lyrics, make researches. It's then that I discovered the romantic guy emerging from all those guitars ponding like hell and amplifiers to the max of his shows.

I found out he's a honest person. His mother was right when she wrote a letter to the savage critics who had called his debuting son names like drug abuser, outrageous, jerk to name a few. The Italian musical scene was pretty polite and puritan early in the 80's when Vasco shocked it with his rockstar ways. "My son is honest, at least" she wrote "and I hope your wife and your sons can think the same about you". Fierce woman, she was. 

My journey to discover Mr Rossi had to be different. I've never been the type to identify with someone. As a teen I was pretty absorbed in books and no singer or band was enough substitute. I knew certain songs by heart, like everyone Italian out there, because some  are truly part of our musical common background. Siamo solo noi is a generation hymn, Vita spericolata is an anthem of an adventurous aspired life, Albachiara is his most famous hit. There is no school trip play list that doesn't include at least one of his songs. 
"And then we'll happen to meet at Roxy Bar, to get drunk like celebrities, or more probably we will never meet, each of us lost in his own trouble ..."
We were finally having our local superstar. But I couldn't like someone who made of racism his fortune. His song Colpa d'Alfredo may be the firt case of provocative slang in Italian musical scene. Still, I remain of the opinion that he could have invented something different to shock his audience and catch attention.

Also, there was that sad circumstance in which he insulted Southern fans. Okay, he was on drugs when he answered the shocked journalist (who had asked him why he did shows in Southern Italy if he disliked Southerners): "Why? Don't you use the toilet?" But he didn't fool me. Fans boycotted many of his shows, until they accepted his public excuses. Vasco sold out his first concert in the South after the scandal the minute he announced it. Everything went back on track. Not me. I immediately stopped listening to his music.

Today Mr Rossi is a concrete guy who accepts life the way it is now, tired of battles with his wind mills (because everyone has one to fight, let's face it) and ready to share his life experience with different, wiser eyes.
"You can not fly over the mountains, you can not go where you want to go. You know what? Everything is here, here you can only cry and in the end you don't even cry anymore."
I prefer the Vasco of today, the one who went back to his origins and is not afraid to show he's not flawless. You rock, Blasco. I know he retired, but I hope he'll keep blessing the world behind the scenes all the same. Long Live the King!

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