The 30 Big Artists Chosen by the Editorial Staff

Here's our imaginary lineup of thirty Big Artists competing at the Sanremo Festival, for an event as utopian, needless to say, as it is enticing, and, let's be honest, dreamlike, featuring outsiders from the indie world, songwriting legends and names that seem unlikely for the Ariston stage, but who could set things on fire if they ever decided to take part. A little game all of our own, with no snobbish pretensions, because, however you look at it, Sanremo is Sanremo.

Andrea Laszlo De Simone
An alien at the Ariston? Actually, not so much. Beneath his dreamy, elusive style, marked by a reserved, melancholy existentialism, Andrea Laszlo De Simone has concealed one of the finest revivals of Italian melodic song from the '50s and '60s ever carried out on the national indie scene. Songs with a retro soul like "Vivo" or "Un momento migliore" reawaken the noble spirit of a style that, through masters like Gino Paoli, Sergio Endrigo and Luigi Tenco, laid the foundations of the Italian singer-songwriter tradition itself. So seeing the mustachioed Turin minstrel on the stage of the Festival della Canzone Italiana would, all things considered, be less unnatural than it might seem at first glance. As long as someone manages the miracle of convincing Andrea to overcome his proverbial reticence, and the Sanremo machine to truly grasp where the talent lies in the new Italian scene. (Claudio Fabretti)

Ardecore
As we wrote when reviewing the extraordinary "Ardecore" back in 2005, Italians have always shown a peculiar embarrassment toward their own musical traditions: they'll go wild for a Mexican mariachi party or get drunk to Balkan brass bands, but heaven forbid you dig out grandpa's cringe-inducing old folk record. Ardecore, on the other hand, did just that without fear, even updating the dreaded Roman stornelli with the language of the 2000s, mixing daring post-rock arrangements, tex-mex excursions à la Calexico, and roaring talking blues. A skill they've also applied to new, original, timeless songs, which has made them one of the most powerful Italian folk-rock bands. And if even Zen Circus made a fleeting appearance at the Ariston, why not them? (Claudio Fabretti)

Baustelle
Francesco Bianconi recently revealed that he turned down the invitation to take part in the Sanremo Festival on two or three occasions: "There's other television we've chosen to do. Sometimes those who go to Sanremo have no other way to exist. We've built a path that allows us not to go there, and after all this effort...". Yet Bianconi has been present at the Festival on several occasions, as a songwriter for other artists, even though "Bruci la città", one of the biggest hits by Irene Grandi, was rejected by Pippo Baudo in 2007: that summer it would go on to win the Festivalbar, becoming one of the year's biggest hits. There's also a Baustelle appearance in 2023, as guests of Coma Cose during the cover-songs night, performing "Sarà perché ti amo". Bianconi's drive toward writing the perfect song, killer choruses, his ambition to build a reputation as a modern chansonnier, looking to the Italian singer-songwriter tradition (De André), to chanson française (Gainsbourg), but also to electropop and the Brit scene (Pulp), the ability to blend the highbrow with the popular... yes, Baustelle would be perfect... An interplay of voices between Francesco and Rachele, verses about the end of a love affair, something capable of stirring emotion, breaking hearts, without leaving too much hope for the future. (Claudio Lancia)

Caparezza
Michele Salvemini has already been to Sanremo, back in 1997, when he was Mikimix. He was placed among the "New Proposals" with the track "E la notte se ne va": a completely different style from Caparezza, and, above all, very short hair. Known for over twenty years, adored by fans who find in him a rap style close to pop, rock and singer-songwriter tradition, attentive to lyrics and message, far removed from the onomatopoeia and slang of trap. Bringing him to Sanremo would be the crowning achievement of his artistic journey: having moved away from sentimental pop-rap to become the caustic, curly-haired showman of hits and cult tracks, Michele Salvemini would be appreciated as a mature author and performer. The song could tell of his vulnerabilities or existential themes: from the man who wrote "La certa", "El Sendero", "Chinatown" or "Pathosfera", to name just a few. The Critics' Award is practically guaranteed. The title would probably contain a pun: his fans would happily rush to explain it to everyone, even those who didn't ask. A dream cover night, with Frankie Hi-Nrg. (Antonio Silvestri)

Carmen Consoli
For the Cantantessa, on the other hand, it would be a triumphant return, thirty years after the dazzling performance of "Confused and Happy" (1997), which catapulted her to national fame, and the subsequent appearance with "In Bianco e nero" (2000). Even though Sanremo inexplicably resists songs in dialect, a track like "Amuri luci" – taken from the wonderful Sicilian-folk album of the same name released by Consoli in 2025 – could easily have triumphed on the Ariston stage, winning over both the general public and the most demanding listeners, like a new "Vacanze romane". But we'd also settle for the more pop-oriented Carmen, perhaps the one who "wanted to be a rockstar" on her penultimate album, one of the recent peaks of her distinctive songwriting, poised between rough edges and a melodic vocation. (Claudio Fabretti)

Coca Puma
Coma_Cose and Coca Puma: the assonance is undeniable. The former found their definitive launchpad on the Sanremo stage; for Costanza Puma the opportunity could be similar, but through an entirely different route. No generational slogans, no bedroom romanticism: the Milanese artist would step in on tiptoe and let the groove do the talking. Electronic, jazzy nu-soul, broken yet fluid beats. A soft, controlled, almost restrained voice: some will say it pushes too little, but it works precisely because it doesn't force anything. It sits within the arrangement like just another instrument, with that blend of spleen and urban lightness that immediately recalls Frah Quintale – though more polished, less instinctive. The orchestra would be a novelty that doesn't smother but frames: strings weaving through the beats, discreet horns giving room to breathe. All it needs is a chorus that opens up just enough. The rest would be handled by the production: sinuous, contemporary, wonky and finally in step with the present. Not podium material. Playlist material for the day after. And these days that counts for almost more. (Marco Sgrignoli)

CSI
In 2021, during the cover-songs night, Max Gazzè, Daniele Silvestri and the Magical Mystery Band performed "Del mondo" by CSI, bringing to the Ariston, in some form, the magic of one of Italy's most celebrated "alternative" bands – the adjective is fitting, given that we're still talking about Sanremo. Now that they've in some way reunited, with one of the most anticipated tours of the year, featuring a lineup of Giovanni Lindo Ferretti, Massimo Zamboni, Gianni Maroccolo, Ginevra Di Marco, Francesco Magnelli and Giorgio Canali, the good old Consorzio Suonatori Indipendenti might just consider it, showing up like grizzled, furious old hooligans at Sanremo. And a new "Per me lo so" would be more than enough to blow the place apart. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Daniela Pes
That Daniela Pes is one of the most promising and talented artists on the contemporary Italian scene is by now a given, confirmed too by the success of her performances abroad. Of course, transported onto the Ariston stage, the ancestral rituals of the splendid "Spira" would seem even more otherworldly and disorienting, and their "new language", built on phonemes, sounds and assonances, would pose an insurmountable obstacle. But the Gallura-born artist has all the tools to offer more conventional songs too, buoyed by her deep, magnetic voice, which, transposed to Sanremo's latitudes, could produce the same shock effect as Alice's "Per Elisa", perhaps even keeping the same electronic bent. Add a commanding stage presence, and the job would be done. A pipe dream? Maybe, but dreaming, after all, costs nothing... (Claudio Fabretti)

Daniele Silvestri
The importance of the word. In terms of exquisitely crafted lyrics with strong social and cultural undertones, Daniele Silvestri is a sure thing. An Ariston veteran, whose history began in 1995 with his debut among the New Proposals with "L'uomo col megafono", which won him his first Critics' Award, and continued in 1999 with "Aria", right up to two of his best radio hits, the playful "Salirò" in 2002, and "La paranza" in 2007, which draws on the period's crime headlines with irony and catchy melodies. In 2013 came "A bocca chiusa", addressing collective participation and street protests, performed alongside sign-language interpreter Renato Vicini, a metaphor for the silent strength of those who take to the streets to defend their rights. The peak came in 2019 with the powerful blow of the intense "Argentovivo", alongside Rancore and Manuel Agnelli: the song deals with adolescent disillusionment and placed sixth, winning the "Mia Martini" Critics' Award, the "Lucio Dalla" Press Room Award and the "Sergio Bardotti" Award for best lyrics. Seven years on from the Roman songwriter's last appearance, the time is ripe for a new track that could leave its mark, and as for the hypothetical subject matter, given the current state of things, there's certainly no shortage of choice. (Martina Vetrugno)

Ele A
Rappers used to be scarce at Sanremo; today there are too many. Often, they're not worth much: a limited audience, a shaky career, an uncertain future. Swiss-Italian dual citizen Eleonora Antognini, born in 2002, could give the whole thing a refresh: a female rapper, far removed from trap and its slang, who cites Nineties giants like Nas and Biggie. Not a pop star who stumbled into rap that gets played everywhere, but a fresh name loved by Neffa, who collaborates with Colapesce, and steers clear of the usual routine of drugs, sex, partying and brands. Ele A would go to Sanremo to get herself known and appreciated by an audience looking for a way out of yet another trap-reggaeton hit, the kind signed by a singer more interested in being looked at than listened to. The song could tell her own story and that of Switzerland, indirectly referencing Canalis: perhaps a bilingual track, like "Cielo grigio". On cover night she could pair up with Blanco, with whom she shares that youthful desperation, or maybe with Madame. Right-wing controversy over inviting a Swiss singer would be inevitable, but it would be worth putting up with. (Antonio Silvestri)

Fabri Fibra
Rappers this famous, this cross-generational and wide-reaching, have been rare in Italy. Instead of inviting J-Ax yet again, say, it would be better to ask Fabrizio Tarducci to write another one of those songs of his that strike straight to the heart: a new "Stavo pensando a te", for instance, even if songs like that maybe only come once in a whole career. But Fabri Fibra could just as easily perform alongside a singer like Joan Thiele, as heard on the recent "Milano Baby", or stir up controversy by referencing real news stories, as he's already done many times in the past. What's more, he's an expert live performer, and adding the Ariston to his résumé seems the natural culmination of a career nearing its thirtieth anniversary. Given his central role on the scene, cover night could bring great satisfaction to fans: the most obvious trio lineup with Geolier and Rose Villain, with whom he hosts "Nuova scena", could just as well give way to an invitation to Gianna Nannini, or, why not, his friend Neffa. (Antonio Silvestri)

Flavio Giurato
The Roman songwriter has just returned with another marvelous album, "Il console generale". And this once again makes you think how strange the Italian music universe can be, because someone like Giurato, however utterly alien in every sense, could only do good at the Sanremo Festival. Like a Pierangelo Bertoli backed by Tazenda, Giurato could work even paired with just about any "other" band. His poetic sensibility would guarantee a breath of fresh air, even though we're still talking about a young seventy-seven-year-old. Just imagine how much a song like "Marcia nuziale" would raise the bar for quality, and how much food for thought it would bring to a stage increasingly worn down by throwaway songs devoid of any narrative bite, and often of musical bite too. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Francesco De Gregori
If there's an Italian songwriter who has always shown absolute intransigence toward Sanremo, it's Francesco De Gregori. The only "tribute" he ever paid the Festival was the bitter verses of the song bearing its name, dedicated in 1976 to Luigi Tenco, the "young angel who wandered without a sword", who died amid the flowers and indifference of the Sanremo carousel: “Lo portarono via in duecento/ peccato fosse solo quando se ne andò/ la notte che presero il vino/ e ci lavarono la strada”. A merciless j'accuse against obtuse, opportunistic record executives and a television circus willing to do anything "so long as the show goes on". Then in 1985, in "Ciao ciao", the Prince reiterated the point: "Guarda che belli i fiori in quella città, che mai mi ha visto e mai nemmeno mi vedrà". But a lot of water has passed under the bridge since then, and the more conciliatory, at-peace De Gregori of the 2000s, who has duetted with Ligabue and Elisa, might just consider it. Perhaps in tandem with Malika Ayane, whom he has long named as his favorite voice of the new generation. (Claudio Fabretti)

Francesco Di Bella
Solo or with 24 Grana, very little would really change. Di Bella could finally take off nationally at Sanremo, after having set fire to the whole alternative scene both as a solo artist and with his historic band. And you're never too old to make your debut at the Ariston and become known to everyone, warts and all — just ask Dario Brunori docet. Good old Francesco would obviously have to distance himself a bit from his “mother tongue”, an operation well within his reach, just as radio-friendly, Sanremo-suited songs are well within his reach too. Who knows, maybe one day we'll see him climb onto that stage in his own way: shyly at first, before hitting everyone with his charisma as an afflicted, wounded, but never defeated singer-songwriter. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Gnut
Claudio Domestico, aka Gnut, is one of the best-hidden treasures of the new Neapolitan singer-songwriter scene. He has the grace of a loser and the magic touch of a jester. At Sanremo he'd definitely fall into the “outsider” category, but with a song like “L'ammore 'o vero”, or any track picked at random from that little gem of an album “L'orso 'nnammurato”, Gnut would have an easy ride at Sanremo. Sure, he too would first have to adapt his lyrics a bit, translating them from dialect into Italian. But for someone like Gnut, a tireless musician and live performer who never pauses for breath, this would be the least of his “problems”. And his participation might also make everyone realize that Naples today isn't just rap, scooter lamps and Tmax mopeds. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

I cani
Sharp lyrics, sharp electro-rock. Not exactly the trendiest combo at the Ariston. When was the last time we heard that? Probably back in the days of Subsonica. But I cani, the project of Niccolò Contessa, could bring it back to the Festival with only one real concession to the Sanremo format: a big symphonic chorus where the orchestra goes all in for two twenty-second bursts, then stays silent for the rest of the song (what a relief!). The forty-year-old Roman would have everything needed to craft the perfect song for that stage: a sharp pen, able to dissect everyday life with just the right dose of cynicism and presumed depth, a knack for immediate melody — sometimes too immediate — and an outsider's rigor from another era, back when “indie” hadn't yet become a dirty word. He'd win over the critics for sheer courage with barely any effort, twenty years after that same courage would have actually made waves. Maybe that's exactly why he's careful never to actually set foot on that stage. (Marco Sgrignoli)

Irossa
Irossa is a name that wouldn't be out of place among the Nuove Proposte. The story of this Turin sextet began with a bluegrass guitar course at Roberto Bovolenta's school, House Of Rock, and, experiment after experiment, took shape on their debut “Satura” (2024) and their sophomore effort “La mia stella aggressiva si nasconde nelle virgole e nei punti” (2025), which skillfully blends indie-rock and art-pop with a touch of post-punk, showing what could be the Italian counterpart to a wave of rising UK bands like Ugly, mary in the junkyard and English Teacher. Among their stated influences are Black Country, New Road (and you can hear it), Sorry, Dry Cleaning, Fontaines Dc, Murder Capital and the like, and very little Italian music. And yet, alongside sounds of broad international scope, there's a clear commitment to crafting the Italian lyrics with care. Among their most balanced tracks, ones that could be pitched for the kermesse, would be the light, brisk “Fiori, fiori”, which lodges itself in your head and never leaves, the restless searching of “Potomac”, and the interplay of guitar riffs and horns closing out “Come vuoi”. Which raises what might be branded heresy (or a naive utopia): what if, instead of the artist having to “adapt” to the festival, it was the festival that finally made room for something different from the usual? (Martina Vetrugno)

La Niña
After rumors that had her almost certainly booked for the 2026 Sanremo Festival, Carola Moccia, aka La Niña, took to social media to clarify her “distance” from certain mainstream mechanisms, declaring herself, at least for now, drawn to very different musical worlds. Meanwhile, in an interview given to OndaRock, Raf in turn expressed great skepticism about Sanremo, which he says has become, over the last ten years, the only event in Italy offering real visibility — only for everyone to discover a few weeks later that he himself is (thankfully, let's be clear) among this year's thirty big names competing at the Ariston. In short, talk is cheap, and it's never really over till it's over. So, like it or not, La Niña could genuinely make her mark on Italian song's most celebrated stage, thanks to a distinctly Neapolitan folk-villanella songwriting style that's nonetheless capable of embracing electronic alchemy too. And above all, a voice like an old-fashioned siren's that, with the right ballad, would truly work wonders. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Lamante
She performed at the Teatro Ariston in Sanremo just a few months ago, at the opening night of the 2025 Premio Tenco, and that's just one of the milestones reached by Lamante, aka Giorgia Pietribiasi, a sharp new voice in Italian singer-songwriting. From her 2023 debut with the single “L'ultimo piano”, through the pivotal debut album “In memoria di” the following year, produced together with Taketo Gohara, it's been an endless string of accolades; that period also brought collaborations with Levante and Paolo Benvegnù, and an intense live schedule that took the artist from Schio (near Vicenza) to open shows for Negramaro and Coez. “In memoria di” channels a lot of rage vented through punk and just as much pain, laced and crystallized with pop undertones, in a collection of deeply personal memories — her trademark. You could picture her just as easily with a powerful, visceral track like “Non chiamarmi bella” or “Rossetto” as with a more melodic one in the style of “Come volevi essere”. The path is already set, as shown by the very recent “Un canto nuovo”, which paves the way for a new release likely arriving before the year is out, with a further opening toward pop and electronic influences. It's only a matter of time. (Martina Vetrugno)

Liberato
Liberato's participation in Sanremo was one of the trickiest things for the organizers to handle, since the artist agreed to take part only on condition that he wouldn't have to share dressing rooms with the other contestants, in order to protect his identity. The song he's bringing, “Tammorra contro autotune”, sees him refresh his own formula after a third album that was disappointing to say the least: bass and electric piano drive an arrangement with a funk flavor. An acoustic guitar in a rhythmic role rounds out the picture, in what is probably his least electronic track to date. The bridge also brings in a mandolin and a female choir indulging in the melismas typical of much Mediterranean folk music, picking back up on the deep dive into tradition that had been hinted at on the second album, arguably his best to date. On cover night, confirming his intent to keep pursuing this approach, the masked singer duets with the legendary Peppe Barra, in a medley blending two songs from their respective catalogs: “Tu t'e scurdat' 'e me” and “Oi mare mà”. Joining them onstage is violinist Lino Cannavacciuolo, who has worked with Barra before, and whose dissonant assaults duly ruffle up the festival audience. (Federico Romagnoli)

Lucio Corsi
Strike while the iron's hot, as they say. But evidently that maxim doesn't hold much appeal for Lucio Corsi, who last year outclassed everyone at the Ariston except for a handful of home voters seduced by Olly. If he'd wanted to, the Tuscan glam troubadour could have climbed back onto the Ariston stage without a hitch, this time straight away as the favorite and the main attraction, rather than as a virtual unknown to most people like last year. A new “Volevo essere un duro” would have been enough to give Caesar what's Caesar's, but so would one of his rock nursery rhymes with a wink toward pop — more necessary today than ever, to knock the Pausini-style whining or yet another Rettore-esque hit by Annalisa off the radio playlists. What a shame. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Marco Castello
In the new wave of singer-songwriters, Sanremo often looks for that blend of classic and contemporary that fuels the whole kermesse. Sicilian artist Marco Castello could be the perfect name to offer a glimpse of what happens beyond the charts, on the margins of the top 10's million-stream hits. He's an ironic, eclectic poet who alternates elaborate figures of speech and refined imagery with the bluntness of everyday language. He has a wonderful feel for the tragicomic, the surreal and the bittersweet, applied to a disarming blend of jazz, funk and pop. He could grab attention from the title alone, as with his “Pompe”, and win everyone over after the first, initially puzzled, listens. It's hard to imagine him triumphing in the final standings, given the average Sanremo viewer's attention span. But he'd leave an indelible memory, an alien singer-songwriter on the Ariston stage, well worth discovering, starting from his latest release, 2025's “Quaglia sovversiva”. On cover night he might perform Enzo Carella, together with Nu Genea or Il Mago Del Gelato. (Antonio Silvestri)

Marta Del Grandi
Among the most significant voices on today's singer-songwriter scene, with an accent on art-pop, Marta Del Grandi can't go unmentioned. The Milanese artist's training started with jazz, studying at the G. Verdi Conservatory in Milan and the Royal Conservatory of Ghent in Belgium, and her approach to writing and composing music has developed through her passion for travel, first taking shape in the avant-garde pop and folk-rock influences of her debut “Until We Fossilize”, and then in the little gem that made her name, “Selva”. Her current return with “Dream Life” confirms both her eclecticism and her great attention to detail, from the refinement of the arrangements to a real growth in songwriting; all of it still in English. So far, the only material published in Italian is a rendition of Fabrizio De André's “Hotel Supramonte” and an alternate version of “Linger In Silence” (a collaboration with Graham Reynolds), both included on the deluxe edition of “Selva”, along with the title track of the sophomore album itself, plus her contributions to Fumo by Casino Royale. Thinking of her knack for engaging tracks in the vein of “Mata Hari” and “Snapdragon”, or with a more intimate vision infused into the verses of “Oh My Father” and the folk-pop steps of “Alpha Centauri”, her Sanremo debut could be comparable to that of Elisa, who won the kermesse in 2001 with her first Italian-language hit, “Luce (tramonti a nord est)”. (Martina Vetrugno)

Murubutu
Alessio Mariani would please segments of the Sanremo audience that usually go home unsatisfied: fans of a more traditional hip-hop, rooted in soul and jazz, but also those who want to hear storytelling that doesn't echo the traditional singer-songwriter mold. We've had more than enough De Gregori imitators on that stage, haven't we? Since 2009 Murubutu has been practicing a style of rap steeped in literature, one that would even appeal to a left wing desperately searching for contemporary cultural touchstones. We can picture a dramatic track, split between storytelling and poetry, like the moving “Minuscola”, which recounts the tragic true story of two children who froze to death in 1999 after hiding in the wheel well of a plane flying from Guinea to Brussels. Whatever Mariani brings, it's all too easy to predict the glowing editorials in Il Manifesto, as well as the countless classical-high-school teachers applauding the metrical structure. On cover night, he might have an actor read out a Fossati song, while he steps in with brand-new verses quoting the classics. (Antonio Silvestri)

MusicaPerBambini
It might be easier for one of his songs to get accepted at the Zecchino d'Oro, but after the acoustic arrangements of “L'AntiCamera”, why not give it a shot? Digital minstrel Manuel Bongiorni would show up at Sanremo with a track that could actually work there: no avant-metal then, and little to no breakcore, but a dazed, ironic nursery rhyme with an immediately catchy melody, along the lines of “Due punti parentesi chiusa” from the album “Dei nuovi animali”. Onstage, the artist from Piacenza brings his homemade sheet-tent contraption, out of which only his head pops for the entire first part of the performance. Controversy erupts because it blocks the Ariston set design. The track, with its vaguely medieval flavor, jumps between odd time signatures so catchily that no commentator even notices (not that it would've mattered if it had been trickier...). Instead, everyone rushes to write about a new Branduardi, or Tricarico with Auto-Tune — Mike Patton or Igorrr would have been closer to the mark, but people settle. Cover night: a chamber-music version of “Master Of Puppets”, with Elio e le Storie Tese. All wrapped up in 3:30, of course. (Marco Sgrignoli)

Pellegrino e Zodyaco
We're used to Silvestri in funky-disco mode, but that doesn't mean there's no room in that style for anyone else. Choices abound, after all: the Neapolitan Power scene is enjoying a new golden age with Nu Genea, Fitness Forever, Bassolino. Still, it's nice to imagine the opportunity falling to Pellegrino Snichelotto, who may not have the physique du rôle, but certainly knows how to dish up a track that hooks you. The song owes more to Enzo Carella than to De Piscopo or D'Angiò: bright and carefree, never sardonic, but with that bittersweet streak that keeps it from feeling like a postcard. Chorus in Neapolitan, a more cautious verse in Italian, to widen its reach. Sinuous strings weave elegantly through the crackle of bass, drums and synth, catchy enough to get even the stiffest people in the front rows on their feet. The lyrics might lack the decisive spark to really stand out, but the tune plants itself in your head and never leaves. Cover night: “Lunedifilm” with Calibro 35. A gamble on paper, a party onstage. (Marco Sgrignoli)

Post nebbia
There's one fundamental problem: you can't really make out the words. Carlo Corbellini's voice is held back, muffled, almost buried under waves of synth-funk. But now that trap artists have been given the green light, that shouldn't be a dealbreaker: the Paduan singer's diction fits perfectly within the bounds of TV acceptability. The song could tread that fine line that Post Nebbia know how to walk better than most: skewed enough to stay recognizable, groovy enough not to disorient anyone. It would have all the hooks it needs, without sacrificing the electro-psychedelic project's personality or its essential resistance to being pigeonholed. As on “Cristallo metallo” or “Televendite di quadri”, it could even play the retro-progression card, with that vaguely sixties flavor that winks at melodic tradition without actually copying it. It would clearly stand no chance of winning, but for three and a half minutes at least, the stage would sound completely different from usual. Enough to make everything else feel a little flatter by comparison. (Marco Sgrignoli)

Riccardo Sinigallia
“Non cancello l'amaro nemmeno mangiando un cornetto”, sang Gigi D'Alessio in one of his most chilling metaphors. If old Gigi has been applauded at Sanremo more than once — even as a kind of surrogate father figure to Geolier during the 2024 duets night — then a pure songwriting talent like Riccardo Sinigallia would deserve a standing ovation before he's even sung a note. It would obviously be wonderful to see the Roman singer-songwriter back at the Festival, after his sudden exclusion in 2014, which, let it be said in passing, was down more to his own naivety and sheer bad luck than anything else. It would also be a chance to finally wash away the bitterness that still lingers somewhere in the soul of one of the best Italian singer-songwriters of the last twenty years. Anything else? Just this: “Before Leaving” still stands, to this day, as one of the best songs heard at the Ariston in “recent” memory. Not bad at all. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Venerus
After Lucio Corsi, another singer-songwriter who'd deserve the Sanremo spotlight is Venerus, who in 2024 was a guest of Loredana Bertè on duets night, lending shine to Luigi Tenco's “Ragazzo mio”. The time is ripe for him to appear as a main contestant, not just because of the quality of his songwriting, but also because Venerus is exactly the kind of foreign body Sanremo needs to represent a “different” idea of pop song: fluid, sensual, unresolved, built on atmosphere, on emotional fractures, on images that slip and slide. Putting him on that stage would be a reminder that Italian song can still be ambiguous, oblique, pleasantly imperfect. Venerus is an artist who knows how to inhabit the mainstream without letting himself be normalized: he has a recognizable language, a coherent aesthetic, a style of writing that blends R&B, psychedelia and urban singer-songwriting; bringing him to the Ariston would mean accepting the risk of a performance that doesn't explode immediately, that doesn't demand instant applause, but that lingers. In a Festival often dominated by the “well-made” performance, Venerus could introduce just the right amount of unease, that sense of suspension that breaks the flow and forces people to actually listen. Sanremo would validate an artistic trajectory without distorting it: not necessarily turning Venerus into something bigger, but letting his world enter, for three minutes, into all of ours. (Claudio Lancia)

Verdena
Of the sacred triad of Italian alternative rock, Marlene Kuntz/Afterhours/Verdena, the latter are the only ones never to have set foot on the Sanremo stage, and also the ones least suited to being pigeonholed within the Festival's rigid categories. But it's also true that Sanremo always has its fated "let's do something weird" quota, its act of friction, its unconventional proposal. Verdena don't explain, don't introduce, don't make things easy: this attitude would immediately become problematic, and therefore interesting, at a Festival that thrives on maximum exposure and communicative clarity. Consistently staying on the margins, faithful to an idea of music as a closed, self-sufficient space where the outside world only gets in filtered and deformed, Verdena would create a wonderful clash with an event that instead represents forced openness, immediacy, and obligatory sharing. Verdena wouldn't show any real willingness to "take part" in the ritual: just a song brought there, dropped, and then silence. And it would do Sanremo good, since it periodically needs reminding that Italian music isn't just entertainment. In our best dreams of a Verdena Sanremo, Roberta Sammarelli – the band's longtime bassist – would reunite with the band for the occasion, just for the week of the Festival, one last time... and then we'll see. (Claudio Lancia)

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