They are not just songs: Music, widespread and enveloping soundtrack of our time and up to the summer, will remind us who we are and how we are. The Sanremo Festival is a collective rite, In which you participate even if you do not want, according to the old and effective Adagio Morettiano: “You can see me more if …”. If I do we will fantasanne And I win, if I organize karaoke evenings with friends, I look at him wary and critical, if I don’t look at him at all. However, everyone talks about it and pretending not to participate in the rite is useless.
Once the festivals were commanded or of the patron saints. Today it is Sanremo or some football finish. On the other hand, with the pounding horror of the wars, the autocratic follies in the two hemispheres, the political lacerations in the house, the wallets put Maluccio, a little leisure it takes.
Here is precisely, is it leisure? Sparkling scenography, ease of the conductors and watch out for looks, some ballet, some comic jokes, some dose of goodness scattered here and there, not to be ashamed to distract us too much.
But the singers? They listen not because they sing, but for their life stories, for disagreements and intensified on social networks, for the races of mutual insults. Most can sing and we would miss the country of Bel Canto. The lyrics of the songs, often signed by the few authors themselves, have been expertly examined by the Accademia della Crusca, which evaluated Originality, correctness, elegance of words and syntax. A severe exam and with just enough votes, But it will be said that it matters, the academy goes up to the chair at home, not on the Ariston stage.
But Read the texts without purposes or team reading filters an evidence that contrasts with the end, entertain and flavor. They are sad texts, sometimes desperate. The flashes of joy, if you exclude the rhythm it takes, are demented, empty of meaning. You rejoice because you can dance but what is said is insignificant. Where the words stand out, and they are the most busy and more in vogue, there is a notice to be done. How many broken glass, broken, such as hearts, cement walls and smog cHe suffocate without alternatives (Shablo), the fear of being alone (Giorgia) And as for love, tragedies. If you fall in love, you die (Noemi), if you don’t love me young (laurel), To keep silent of those who despise the love-sex equivalence and ask for those who never made them do it (Irama). The truth is sent down in the backed (Elodie) with drug cocktail not to kill yourself, lose dreams (Fedez).
The truest, not shouted, sick, killer love, I found it in three different texts But capable of making you think (still can, even in Sanremo). A father who looks at his daughter and confesses to her tenderness the truth, even if dark, without falling into the fear of hurting her, because this is loved (Brunori). The poetry of Cristicchi For an old mother who returned child, because this is also love. And the sincere and realist invocation of Courses, who displaces his and our masks. I wanted to be a tough, but “how hard the world is for those who have little love around”. Nothing more true, only of this we need.
(Image at the top: Lucio Corsi, Photo Ansa)
