Sanremo 2022

From day one they were the favorites, and in the end they won: Mahmood and Blanco, with the ballad "Brividi". The former claims his second win in two appearances in the main category, while the latter triumphs with just three concerts under his belt. It's a well-deserved win, one that speaks to the present and the future without coming across as trendy or fleeting. Mahmood and Blanco also earn a spot at the Eurovision Song Contest in Turin, scheduled for May 10-14.

Second place goes to Elisa with "O forse sei tu", flawless and elegant but less known among the youngest crowd, and unable to capture the sensibility of an edition that was colorful and gender fluid, very much focused on imagining a 2022-appropriate take on a classically styled song. She still wins the "Giancarlo Bigazzi" award for best musical composition, confirming her affinity with the Sanremo context after her 2001 win with "Luce (Tramonti a Nord Est)".

Third place goes to Gianni Morandi with "Apri tutte le porte", who seems relieved not to have to climb onto one of the top steps of the podium: he seems to suggest that this is just fine by him, and that it's now up to others to achieve the success he rode for so many years.

This podium, speaking to three different generations, closes out an edition of Sanremo that was, on the whole, calm and mildly festive, free of sensational twists and scorching controversies. Perhaps it's because, in this second full year of the pandemic, the desire for lightness prevails, and so the Festival became, more than in the past, an occasion for coming together, exchange and sharing. Playfulness won out, even at the Ariston, with countless standing ovations, impromptu dancing, and singalongs.

To relive this Sanremo 2022 with us, we offer an overview of what happened before, during and after the evenings, and above all, our analyses of the 25 competing songs and the covers night. (Antonio Silvestri)

72nd Italian Song Festival

From Mattarella's re-election to Amadeus's third stint in just a few days: this year saw a shift from the most sacred ritual of national politics, the election of the President of the Republic, to the most profane carnival of the beloved and reviled seaside kermesse. An exhilarating about-turn, which kicked off the 2022 edition of the Sanremo Festival, hosted for the third consecutive time by Amadeus, without the media having had a chance to reach saturation point well in advance.

Things got going with the publication, on January 25th, of the year's most important "TV Sorrisi e Canzoni" issue, the one carrying the lyrics of the competing songs and presenting the candidates through short interviews. Having devoured the juicy tidbits leaked to the press, and wondering how we ever lived peacefully before learning that Ana Mena eats without following the order of courses, putting dessert before the starter, we then had to bide our time hunting for the first signs of some new pointless controversy, without much luck: journalists were busy elsewhere, with weightier and more pressing matters.

On January 30th, with Sergio Mattarella re-elected President of the Republic, Sanremo rumours began to multiply, and, if only to free ourselves from the weight of all the catafalques and salad bowls, name-guessing and blank ballots, we finally started focusing properly on the most important popular event in Italian music.

Ever since the 759 electors chose a new Head of State incredibly similar to the previous one, the Pavlovian-Sanremo reflex has become hard to tame, especially for those who've had the festival bug (watch that accent!) for a lifetime and are even a little proud of it.

Even before the official start, this year set for February 1st, we learned that Fiorello apparently wasn't supposed to be there, but deep down we all knew he would be, and indeed he was again this time, doing his usual double act with his pal Amadeus and reforming, forgive us, the "Amarello" duo.

The idea of a cruise ship, floated last year as a possible venue for the entire event, was recycled this year to host some TV studios, including link-ups with Orietta Berti and Fabio Rovazzi, a pairing that seems to have stepped straight out of a trash-addict's erotic dreams.

Other essential previews that brightened the wait: the red carpet is now green, and some are calling it, forgive us again, the "green catwalk"; Elisa and Mahmood & Blanco are the favourites on paper according to the bookmakers, but what can probability do when you listen with your heart?; the balloons of 2021 have given way to a live audience, always of great anthropological interest; "Fantasanremo", a game similar to fantasy football that until last year was strictly for obsessives, has become famous and is now talked about pretty much everywhere; Beppe Vessicchio, a living monument of TV music, nearly missed out over a wretched swab test, but then tested negative and we all became a little happier.

Amadeus's third Sanremo finds a fairly good rhythm, so much so that the first two evenings wrap up early by past standards: the Festival's marathon runners manage to sleep more hours than you can count on one hand.

The guests on Tuesday and Wednesday, sorry, we obviously meant "super-guests", livened up proceedings with professional musical performances (the usual reliable Måneskin, the usual institutional Laura Pausini) and comic variety moments (an over-the-phone Fiorello, a rather bland Checco Zalone).

This doesn't mean that across roughly nine hours split over two evenings there weren't dull stretches, inexplicable filler like the tedious Meduza performance, with the gala audience dancing away in a cringe-inducing disco, or Amadeus's drawn-out bit dressed as a driver picking up Måneskin: poorly structured moments with no clear direction, which threw the direction team and us viewers into confusion, disoriented by yet another over-excited shout from the host or the thousandth camera switch meant to liven things up. From this point of view, already by Wednesday the alternation between competition segments and variety moments had become more laboured, with long, sluggish stretches.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday brought the usual endless sprawl: still 25 singers performing, running over into the kind of late-night slot reserved for porn on private networks. Sanremo went back to wrapping up around two in the morning, putting our under-eye bags to the test.

The co-hosts, meanwhile, were a mixed bag. Not so much because of the women chosen, but because of how they were worked into the long evenings, often in segments of dubious quality in terms of writing: Ornella Muti led a memorial parade of actors that she practically "buried"; Lorena Cesarini spoke about the disgrace of racism but veered into the mawkish, with a runny nose and a trembling voice. Drusilla Foer fared much better, probably because she wrote her own material: at ease on stage, funny without turning vulgar, sharp without sounding preachy. Maria Chiara Giannetta held her own well, with an enjoyable comic sketch. The final saw a jovial, matey Sabrina Ferilli, as ever, but things then got bogged down in a meta-monologue that, for lack of anything specific to say, touched on a huge number of different topics, even name-dropping Calvino.

The final evening opened with the "Inno di Mameli": thus the circle closed on these first months of 2022, split between presidential elections and Sanremo performances, in its own way a memorable set of circumstances. Will we remember these songs too? (Antonio Silvestri)

Achille Lauro and the Harlem Gospel Choir – "Domenica"

A romance novel, no, more like a porno

He opens the first night bare-chested like an Iggy Pop impersonator and backed by a gospel choir; he closes it by baptizing himself, but in the end it's more of a prank, and even he doesn't seem to take himself too seriously, with that little smirk plastered on his face. L'Osservatore Romano remains unmoved (aside from a sarcastic little aside mentioning David Bowie), proof that his provocations no longer have any real friction left in them.

The impression is that the song, which closely echoes "Rolls Royce" even in its lyrics, is just a pretext to get people talking about him: it's fun, it entertains, but nothing more, and heard on Spotify, without the visuals and the choir, it's easily forgettable. The juries on the opening nights are barely impressed, relegating it to a well-deserved oblivion. (Antonio Silvestri)

Aka7even – "Perfetta così"

Baby, I swear you're perfect just the way you are

He's comparable to Sangiovanni, less humble and likeable but still a vehicle for teen-friendly pop-rap.

At his first performance, dressed like a surfboard, as he rattles off a wholly negligible lyric that seems like nothing more than an excuse to string together syllables and the odd high note, we sense that the reference model by now is a crossover into rehashed pop-rock, as Rkomi and Blanco already do. He'll repeat the performance with no surprises.

At Sanremo he wins over the audience, proof that all it takes is a few guitars to make even frantic bubblegum go down easy. All show. (Antonio Silvestri)

Ana Mena – "Duecentomila ore"

Me, who wasn't looking for a street kid, then you distracted me

Hers is the blandest song of the lot: it's supposed to make you dance but it triggers more than one yawn. It's one of those entries you hope will at least make it into trash-classic territory, going viral and becoming memorable, but instead it stays stuck in that middle ground of music that wants to be fun but fails, like the little bands playing at village fairs.

It's also meant to be a feast for the eyes, yet the look on opening night doesn't fully convince, and the likes of Ditonellapiaga and Emma are better dressed and made up. It goes better in the other performances, but only aesthetically. A disappointment across the board: she sinks to last place on the nights when the public doesn't vote, then fares only slightly better. Best consumed with the tagadà. (Antonio Silvestri)

Dargen d'Amico – "Dove si balla"

I like dance music

That even an alien can learn it

He takes the stage on Tuesday and you don't know what to expect: the four-on-the-floor kicks in with a bittersweet hip-house, he's a seasoned performer and throws everything at it, with a voice that has its limits but is backed by an inventive lyric, anything but banal, and that knack for playing with meter.

The staging doesn't help him much, the audience in the hall doesn't quite seem to get it and he ends up having fun on his own, like someone at a party who's had a bit too much to drink and started before everyone else. He really goes for it with his adorably slack attitude, so the second time around he puts on a great show: he goes down into the crowd, waking everyone up as he explodes with energy.

The juries of the first nights reward him with a good placement, and the song could become an oddball, slightly desperate party anthem. In the studio version he pushes it much further. (Antonio Silvestri)

DitonellaPiaga with Donatella Rettore – "Chimica"

On paper, it's the most inscrutable pairing of the Festival. One is an icon of an era, the other virtually unknown. The song, however, is well put together.

With a shamelessly Moroder-esque feel, the two women click, and the risk of the granddaughter having to prop up the grandmother is comfortably overcome from the very first performance.

There's something that doesn't quite work, though. "Chimica" is fun, ironic, and sifts things through with the subtlety Rettore has always shown us, but the chorus is an excessive loop, and after three listens the chemistry takes over, but as saturation rather than warmth.

Good job all the same. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Elisa – "O forse sei tu"

She's the most anticipated on the eve of the Festival, no point beating around the bush. In 2001 "Luce" left its mark. And it remains one of the finest collaborations of Fornaciari to this day. A thoroughly deserved win for an incredible voice that has never fallen short, staying well afloat over the past two decades, notwithstanding one too many TV appearances.

The dress rehearsals with a certain slice of the more mainstream side of Italian indie had already proven satisfying, with Calcutta on a radio hit, "Se piovesse il tuo nome", brought out perfectly by Toffoli. For her big comeback, though, Elisa turns to the tried-and-tested Davide Petrella, aka Tropico, and the ever-present Faini. The song is epic and over-the-top. And it cranks the sugar levels in your blood up way too high.

More than a comeback, it's a dive into the past, straight back to the love letters read out on Radio Subasio. Luckily, in the end, she's "only" runner-up. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Emma – "Ogni volta è così"

That belonging to your hands cost me nothing at all

and I believed you when you swore you were crazy about me

Ten years after her win with "Non è l'inferno", Emma returns to the Sanremo stage with a song tailored to her powerful voice by Davide Petrella and the ever-present Dario Faini. This time she does it with a surprising touch of elegance. The lyrics seem to address emotional abuse, a subject still little explored by the mainstream media, which tend to focus more on slaps and beatings.

The gesture pointing to her vagina, which accompanied one verse of the song, should therefore be read through a feminist lens that has little to do with vulgarity.

Aside from a few slips due to nerves and her usual diction issues (that unbearable unvoiced "s" where it should be voiced), the singer from Salento has shown she's learned to handle her lower vocal registers better, and even her characteristic belting on the high notes now sounds less rough. Could her friendship with Michielin be doing her good?

Full marks too for the looks, elegant and full of character, (almost) flawless in their color coordination. (Giulia Quaranta)

Fabrizio Moro – "Sei tu"

The Roman singer-songwriter, who already has two Festival wins under his belt (one in the main category and one among the newcomers), arrives at the Festival with a song that departs from his usual approach, often geared toward socially engaged, weighty themes.

This time the content is distinctly autobiographical, a sort of thank-you to whoever managed to pull him away from a complex depressive state that had gripped him for a long time.

As usual, his delivery is heartfelt and gritty, a trademark that slightly elevates a song that otherwise feels a bit too tied to the typical rigidity of the Festival, without offering the kind of ideas that would have certainly made it shine. (Cristiano Orlando)

Gianni Morandi – "Apri tutte le porte"

By dint of believing the pain will pass

I'm the one passing, and he stays

He's playing at home, the crowd is on his side, and on opening night you can feel the emotion in the air. The song Jovanotti wrote for him is a great excuse to see him smile, as affectionate as the nation's grandfather. The lively brass arrangement carries the song even more than his voice, which sounds a touch tired but still polished.

The lyrics are moving when read alongside Morandi's own troubles, arriving as he does with the after-effects of a nasty accident to his legendary hands.

Winner of the sympathy vote, he earns support across the board and even wins the cover-songs night. (Antonio Silvestri)

Giovanni Truppi – "Tuo padre, mia madre, Lucia"

Truppi is the Festival's outsider par excellence. He shows up in a tank top, and few grasp the reasoning behind his stay-at-home outfit. "Tuo padre, mia madre, Lucia" is a song about couples imploding during lockdown days. About forced cohabitation within the family. About compromises reached and dreams gone to hell. And, without too much hyperbole, it's a genuinely beautiful song.

It calls to mind Ciampi, without being blasphemous about it. The only flaw, if we really want to find one, is the excess of spoken-word passages, which at Sanremo, starry profanities aside, have never worked particularly well.

It certainly doesn't deserve to languish near the bottom of the final ranking. But Sanremo is Sanremo, even for these injustices. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Giusy Ferreri – "Miele"

It's a blade that tastes of honey

Her fourth time around, but on opening night she seems quite nervous. Takagi & Ketra have written her a track that suits her perfectly, a rhythmic yet dramatic pop song that opens with a curious vocalization through a megaphone, which later resurfaces to meme-worthy effect. She loosens up over the following nights, so much so that by the final she delivers the song with far less conviction.

Her voice is very distinctive, with a nasal timbre that's both a blessing and a curse, but she doesn't dare much, nor does she surprise.

The lyrics are barely passable, the arrangement flat and unremarkable, improving only slightly in the recorded version.

Forgettable, like her other appearances at the Festival. (Antonio Silvestri)

Highsnob and Hu – "Abbi cura di te"

An unprecedented and unusual pairing, made up of rapper Michele Matera aka Highsnob and singer-multi-instrumentalist Hu, born Federica Ferracuti.

Stirred up on the eve of the Festival by accusations leveled at Highsnob by fellow rapper Junior Cally over the authorship of the track presented at the event, the duo's performance nonetheless proved to be among the most convincing of the whole kermesse.

A song that tackles the ever-present theme of love, but a love that's now over, one that carries with it memories and reflections.

Highsnob and Hu blend their opposing artistic paths remarkably well, and with them their contrasting vocal timbres, letting the content shine while keeping the track's atmosphere deliberately minimal. (Cristiano Orlando)

Irama – "Ovunque sarai"

E lo so che mi puoi sentire

Dove ogni anima ha un colore

Like Thomas Pynchon, like Quentin Tarantino, Irama is a great master of postmodernism. He proved as much last year, grafting a brazen vocoder — a disorienting relic of electronic music's past — onto Sanremo's classicist present.

This year, in the Festival of everyday love, he reworks the concept of expansion, once again sacrificing his persona on the altar of metatheatre and rising again in the guise of the secular psalm-singer, yet another mask, yet another chance to stage a tension-filled show built on the counterpoint between soul and showmanship.

The greatest mystifier in Italian pop. (Tommaso Benelli)

Iva Zanicchi – "Voglio amarti"

Zanicchi returns to the Festival after thirteen years, and notably brings with her three final victories.

The voice and the personality of the eighty-two-year-old singer from Emilia are enviable, and should be taken as a benchmark by anyone setting out to enter the world of music.

Guitar and strings frame a text that amounts to a rather banal declaration of love, on which the eagle of Ligonchio swoops with her priceless personality, patching up some colossal structural holes in the song and covering, as ever, the customary revival quota that every year sees historic champions of the past enjoying a new moment in the spotlight. (Cristiano Orlando)

La Rappresentante di Lista – "Ciao, ciao"

Second (consecutive) participation for the duo made up of Veronica Lucchesi and Dario Mangiaracina.

A gust of adrenaline drawing on 70s funk, fitted into more modern sounds even suited to the current festival context.

A gripping, characterful performance for a track that will very likely get heavy rotation on radio and streaming platforms.

A very positive confirmation for the duo, with lyrics that address, with surrealism and a touch of dystopia, the responsibilities that the new generations too must start shouldering in order to properly hand things on to those who come after. (Cristiano Orlando)

Le Vibrazioni – "Tantissimo"

Francesco Sarcina's band is becoming a regular at the Festival, reaching its fourth appearance this year.

The Milanese frontman bares his claws when it comes to steering things into so-called rock territory, on a track with an autobiographical flavour dealing with the theme of self-love, recalling with newfound maturity the many wounds from the past that still make their presence felt.

Unfortunately, aside from a few interesting guitar-bass-drums passages, there are some rough edges that keep the song from ever really leaving the runway.

A nice touch is the tribute to Stefano D'Orazio, with his image placed on the bass drum played by Deidda. (Cristiano Orlando)

Another hugely anticipated comeback, with an unexpected off-key note on the first run-through. Ranieri, however, is an absolute legend, and he gets both the sound and the aim right on the second attempt. The song is old-fashioned enough to honour both Gilda Mignonette and the great melodic climaxes of the '90s. It's an important theme, handled moreover without any trace of tackiness.

Yet a sense of disorientation lingers, like looking at a freshly polished black-and-white photo with a drop of cleaning fluid still running down it. In short, the dust will settle back in no time, and no one will ever be able to do anything about it. Best enjoyed, then, with grandparents and aunts and uncles.

In the end it wins the critics' award, though without fully deserving it. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Matteo Romano – "Virale"

And love reappears, trends and rises again

Unfairly penalized by the accredited press jury, nineteen-year-old Matteo Romano is perhaps the only one among the younger acts not to have given in to the lure of trap. His "Virale" is a love song bolstered by an electronic backbone and unconventional metrics (you can hear the touch of Faini in the music). The singer-songwriter from Cuneo, here a hybrid of Ultimo, Mahmood and Michele Bravi, performs it with fluency and precision.

Going forward, though, he'll need to watch out for inconsistent lyrics like those of this "Virale", co-written with Alessandro La Cava, which could drag him down into Benji & Fede territory. (Giulia Quaranta)

Michele Bravi – "Inverno dei fiori"

Second appearance for the artist from Perugia, a former X-Factor winner.

Setting aside some heavy personal issues, Bravi continues along his more introverted path, one that's certainly more interesting than the ideas of his early days.

The performances started with the handbrake on, only to loosen up better as the show went on. The arrangement is solid, with the strings clearly in the foreground, keeping a fitting degree of refinement throughout.

The song has an engaging lyric that picks up and lets go of ideas about mutual exchange, even the adversarial kind, within a romantic relationship.

Lovely is the image of the flower that stubbornly pushes through in winter to blossom with great force into new life. (Cristiano Orlando)

Forse mi calmerò

come l'acqua del mare

mi riconoscerò

The trouble with Mahmood when he writes songs for other artists is that he does so thinking only of himself.

He's the type of guy who'd give a football to a tennis player. Noemi tries to do all she can, but her voice isn't suited to certain runs, especially in the verses.

Still, it's a song that grows on you with repeated listens. And one that will surely do well in the first three months after the Festival.

There you go: good for a short shelf life, like almost all of Noemi's songs. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Rkomi – “Insuperabile”

Two molotovs ablaze in the current

The first performance is inconsistent: he moves around and the track pushes toward an immediate rap-rock sound, but he's stiff and awkward, and above all he looks too serious, with no spark at all.

Compared to an Achille Lauro, he comes off badly in terms of performance and look, wrapped up in leather with a Zorro mask that he tosses aside on the stairs (but why?). He shows up again on Thursday dressed like a videogame wrestler, doing a bit better in terms of showmanship, but there are too many issues, vocal ones included. Then he overdoes it, stripping off to show his muscles.

He closes with an ugly lapse in taste, name-dropping his own commercial hit: a big no. On record the track works better, though without much enthusiasm. A wasted opportunity. (Antonio Silvestri)

Sangiovanni – “Farfalle”

No butterflies are flying

I can't sit still

He plays it safe, sticking to what already made him hugely popular with the youngest crowd with "Malibú". The track is lively and he knows how to handle it, moving well on stage and proving capable with a microphone, albeit with some vocal limitations and a bit of inexperience.

With his fan base it's a guaranteed hit, but it will leave the older crowd cold.

When the home vote comes in, he, like a butterfly, starts to fly. (Antonio Silvestri)

Tananai – “Sesso occasionale”

Among the youngest contestants, Tananai is by far the most scatterbrained right from the start. Fair warning before use: the impact is dreadful. And the song needs to be heard at least three times, though ideally without watching the performance of this pop storyteller from Cologno Monzese, whose voice still needs some work.

Fine. Caveats aside, the theme that kicks off with strings is excellent, almost like something out of 1940s art-house cinema.

But then a verse pops up that echoes Tommaso Paradiso, and a few seconds later a hook in the chorus that even recalls Bongusto and his whole world. So, a genuinely intriguing song, at least in absolute terms. Because the lyrics are extremely weak. And the guy sings none too well. What remains, though, is that unexpressed flair, which perhaps in the future Tananai will manage to bring out with more care and, above all, more conviction. (Giuliano Delli Paoli)

Yuman – “Ora e qui”

Festival debut for one of the three winners of "Sanremo Giovani".

The Rome-born artist of Cape Verdean descent delivers an unconvincing performance, with several flaws partly attributable to the understandable nerves of debuting on this historic stage.

The song is an overly formulaic soul-pop number, from which none of the peaks so essential to this genre ever really emerge.

A faint glimmer of interest comes from the lyrics, co-written by Yuman, which address a hard-won sense of personal wellbeing achieved after a period of real hardship. (Cristiano Orlando)

Cover night

In this Sanremo of normalization, few risks are taken, even with the covers. Most of the singers just go through the motions, with modest commitment and little inventiveness, even in their choice of songs. It's no coincidence that the medley by Gianni Morandi and Jovanotti — the ultimate in cross-generational reconciliation — is the runaway hit, helped along by Lorenzo's excessive presence throughout the evening, questionable given the ongoing competition.

Elisa and the duo Mahmood & Blanco also play with festival conventions and the audience, as they vie for the top of the chart: the former offers a spirited, faithful rendition of Irene Cara's "What A Feeling" from the film "Flashdance" (1983) alongside dancer Elena D'Amario — of "Amici" fame — even earning praise from songwriter Giorgio Moroder, while the duo Mahmood & Blanco give themselves over to a vocally intense reading of one of the masterpieces of Italian song, Gino Paoli's "Il cielo in una stanza". In this edition Mahmood doesn't overturn but rather revisits and refreshes the conventions of the classic Sanremo ballad; the overall approach seems clear (and in the end it will pay off again this time too). The two of them can really sing, solo and together, and the result gives you chills.

Fortunately, a few acts break out of the standard cover mould: La Rappresentante Di Lista — one of the best performances of the night — deliver an electro transposition of the Ronettes' "Be My Baby" with Cosmo, Margherita Vicario and Ginevra, in a Lynchian atmosphere that winks at Chromatics; Dargen D'Amico offers a brash, dancefloor-ready version of Patty Pravo's "La Bambola" in "Born To Be Abramo" style; Rkomi has Calibro 35 arrange a refined medley tribute to the 1980s Vasco Rossi, "rinsing" Blasco's tunes in the band's cinematic 1970s atmospheres; playful and cheeky, on the other hand, is the cabaret-rap reinterpretation of Raffaella Carrà's "A far l'amore comincia tu" by Tananai and Rosa Chemical, who toy with the orchestra and the audience deep into the night.

But for us the real winner is Loredana Bertè, radiant and expressive on "Sei bellissima", alongside an Achille Lauro who can barely keep up with her but dedicates heartfelt words to her. The "over-70s" win too: besides Morandi, there's Iva Zanicchi paying tribute to Don Backy and Milva with a powerful voice and an interpretive flair that the catalogue rockers (Le Vibrazioni, anyone?) left at home (their cover of the cover of "Live And Let Die", from McCartney to Guns and Roses, was sloppy); Massimo Ranieri, elegant and nuanced, pays homage to the music of Pino Daniele, Anna Magnani and his native Naples with a splendid song, "Anna verrà", unfortunately flattened by Nek's rather flat interpretation.

Ditonellapiaga and Donatella Rettore, reinterpreting "Nessuno mi può giudicare", fail to leave a mark (unlike Casco D'Oro), while Emma and Francesca Michielin's take on Britney Spears's "Baby One More Time" comes across as rather surreal.

The rest of the homework ends up in a drawer.

(Maria Teresa Soldani)

Final ranking and awards

1. Mahmood e Blanco – Brividi

2. Elisa – O forse sei tu

3. Gianni Morandi – Apri tutte le porte

4. Irama – Ovunque sarai

5. Sangiovanni – Farfalle

6. Emma – Ogni volta è così

7. La Rappresentante di Lista – Ciao ciao

8. Massimo Ranieri – Lettera di là dal mare

9. Dargen D'Amico – Dove si balla

10. Michele Bravi – Inverno dei fiori

11. Matteo Romano – Virale

12. Fabrizio Moro – Sei tu

13. Aka 7even – Perfetta così

14. Achille Lauro – Domenica

15. Noemi – Ti amo non lo so dire

16. Ditonellapiaga con Rettore – Chimica

17. Rkomi – Insuperabile

18. Iva Zanicchi – Voglio amarti

19. Giovanni Truppi – Tuo padre, mia madre, Lucia

20. Highsnob e Hu – Abbi cura di te

21. Yuman – Ora e qui

22. Le Vibrazioni – Tantissimo

23. Giusy Ferreri – Miele

24. Ana Mena – Duecentomila ore

25. Tananai – Sesso occasionale

Mia Martini Critics' Award: Massimo Ranieri – Lettera di là dal mare

Lucio Dalla Radio Tv Web Press Room Award: Gianni Morandi – Apri tutte le porte

Sergio Bardotti Award for Best Lyrics: Fabrizio Moro – Sei tu

Giancarlo Bigazzi Award for Best Arrangement: Elisa – O forse sei tu

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