Gatti Mezzi+Bobo Rondelli

Success in Italy — real success, the kind that makes a musician or a band sell thousands of copies and sell out every date, the kind that gets you on TV — is something obscure, inexplicable, a concept and a goal for which formulas and calculations are of little use.

Certainly, it's not achieved through merit, since in Italy it's often the case that those who elsewhere would still be playing in some basement after their day job find success, while those who could and should have it don't, or don't get the success they deserve: in this latter category of artists are the Gatti Mèzzi, an extraordinary duo from Pisa who, singing in their own dialect, blend their natural irreverence and sarcasm with a jazz-swing sound that in some ways recalls Paolo Conte, and in others the Belgian Jean "Django" Reinhardt (with the difference that the latter had titles like "Serenade", while the Gatti thrill us singing songs like "Bimbetto scarmanato", or "Morirò d'incidente stradale"); and in the same category falls Bobo Rondelli from Livorno, an irreverent singer-songwriter and storyteller who in 1993 debuted as singer and leader of Ottavo Padiglione, coming close to success, and who today, almost 20 years on, is a mad jester, a stage animal (as Stefano Bollani called him) capable of railing against Americans in the song "Gimme Money" and, shortly after, quoting the poets Giorgio Caproni and Franco Loi.

Gatti Mèzzi and Bobo Rondelli often play on the same stage, united by the same playful approach to music and songwriting, and by the same merciless irony: and we saw them play together on the evening of January 28 at the Teatro Politeama in Cascina (Pisa), which was completely packed, taking turns on stage to put on a three-hour show that didn't disappoint those expecting a great live performance from the "three ultra-Tuscans".

The first to pick up their instruments were the two Gatti, namely singer, pianist and first-rate whistler Tommaso Novi, and guitarist and singer Francesco Bottai, accompanied by double bassist Mirco Capecchi and drummer Matteo Consani: on stage, together, they make music and theatre, philosophize and talk about love, laugh and, smiling, talk about melancholy. All of this, and here lies the band's real value, happens within the span of a single song.

Among the songs performed, it's worth mentioning the sumptuous "Ladro di Mare", a poignant ballad written by Bottai about a fisherman whose father was stolen by the sea, and the wild "Ir Gallaccio di Riglione", a crazy portrait of a well-known Pisan gentleman who, during the show, doesn't fail to show up on stage himself. Besides this, the Gatti also presented four new songs, including "Balena" and the aforementioned "Morirò d'incidente stradale", tracks that will most likely appear on the new album, due out between June and July.

After Gatti Mézzi, Rondelli takes the stage with his musicians for a ninety-minute live set featuring classic tracks like "Vitelloni," "Gigiballa" and that "Ho picchiato la testa," which in 1993 was released as a single from the album "Ottavo Padiglione" and helped it sell over 30,000 copies; there's also room for songs from "Per amor del cielo," Bobo's latest album, a finalist at the 2009 edition of the Premio Tenco.

Rondelli, whom the two Gatti regard as a kind of stage-craft father figure, confirms on stage that Bollani's description was no exaggeration: his show swings between moments of pure madness, in which the singer-songwriter freely indulges his Tuscan roots, and moments in which the audience can only listen in silence to what the songs have to say.

As mentioned, this is one of the few artists who can, within a matter of minutes on stage, move from a poem by Franco Loi to a rendition of "Non voglio crescere mai," inspired by the song "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" by Tom Waits, and which comes across as a real claim to the right to show one's own personality — in other words: this is who I am, whether you like it or not.

At the end of Rondelli's set, there's room for two final encores, bringing all the musicians together on stage: it opens with the Gatti's "Ameriano der Tirreno," a good-natured portrait of the people of Livorno, far removed from the forced, stadium-style rivalry between Pisa and Livorno that, fortunately, is actually rather limited, and closes with Bobo's "Gimme Money"; after three hours, the show is over, but no one has had enough.

In closing, a small caveat: it would be wrong to assume that Rondelli and Gatti Mèzzi are merely great entertainers; these are artists who write at a high level, with songs whose arrangements, while landing immediately on the listener's ear, are built from nuances and fine details that demand real work and technique.

What's missing to achieve real success — the TV kind — is evidently something that has nothing to do with them.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google