Vinicio Capossela

Listening to "Ovunque Proteggi" we'd already had the impression that something dark was stirring in the guts of our friend Vinicio. Watching him live, we find confirmation of that: a show that begins by dragging us down into the bowels of the earth, where amid sulphur and demons creeps the grotesque dance of the wildest Capossela yet, even more unrestrained than on "Canzoni a manovella". But we don't let ourselves be rattled, even though his goat-fur coat is unsettling at times. We know Capossela's concerts are a journey. Like at the Teatro Valli in Reggio Emilia two years ago, when he presented "Non si muore tutte le mattine", starting from the loneliness of the metropolis and its squalid hourly hotels, before arriving at a Puccini-esque pietas, the kind belonging to Butterfly as she waits for her Pinkerton.

So we were prepared for a show that would begin in blood-red earth and lift us up into the blue of a starry sky. And at the Paladozza the same journey unfolds, opening with a "Non trattare" performed by Beelzebub himself: hence his pig-skull mask, which recalls so strongly the Beelzebub of Golding's "Lord of the Flies". Credit to Vinicio, capable of weaving together lofty classical mythology, violent and gripping, bringing onstage the Minotaur and Medusa — only he could have imagined her dancing the cha cha cha — alongside the post-Communist Fly and a small-town festival waltz.

The concert continues down the road that leads from the depths of night to the shy, sweet glow of morning. And so "Moskavalza" gives way to "Nel blu", and the two dancers dressed as Ukrainian streetwalkers reveal themselves as acrobats, twirling above the crowd dressed in white to the sound of a music box. Even the set's visuals no longer show demons' red eyes and infernal circles, but paper dancers twirling in the light of the thousand stars of the mirror ball hanging from the ceiling. Then "Lanterne rosse" carries us into the most intimate, secret China, followed by the daring "S.S. dei naufragati": this last one, given its theatrical nature, demanded the audience's full attention and participation. And that's exactly what happened. Vinicio's trust in his audience paid off for his boldness, and the tribute to the sea and to those the sea carries away was truly felt by everyone present in the most absolute way. This was helped above all by the undisputed skill of first-rate musicians, able to move effortlessly between tape recorders, double basses, trumpets, drums and accordions.

From the labyrinths of Mycenae to Sicilian processions, to "tutto Napoleone/ dipinto in un bottone". There was no shortage of old glories, like "Ballo di S. Vito", to the delight of a crowd that was waiting for nothing else, and a cheekily crude "Marajà". In our view, the sweetest moment came with the piano-and-voice rendition of "Dove siamo rimasti a terra Nutless", which suddenly opens into a Dixieland atmosphere straight out of Berlucchi fountains and cascades of carnations. Needless to say, the show closed with "Ovunque proteggi", with the whole crowd joining in a collective embrace, trying to fight off the premature and inexorable flickering-on of the Paladozza's fluorescent lights.

We love Capossela so much that we tried, throughout the whole show, to forget where we were. Unfortunately we didn't manage it, and neither did he. Never was an indoor sports arena so wrong a setting for a show of craft and artistry, beauty and melancholy. Everyone felt constrained by the venue, but the musicians especially, who couldn't let themselves go the way they did at the Teatro D'Annunzio in Pescara many years ago, or at that same Teatro Valli we mentioned earlier. A shame. Capossela's universe is made of nuances and contrasting, precious atmospheres, which have nothing to do with an arena built for basketball games.

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