Capa party

One of the biggest surprises during my initial online communication with you came in the shape of your favourite singer. There is SO much one can tell about a person from their favourites. And in your case it is this crazy man. I’m very happy that we got to hear him live together.

His latest album is called Museica and he is a bit of a curator, taking us to Van Gogh, Dada, Giotto Beat and fake Modigliani heads, planted about 30 years ago near Firenze and messing with experts’ heads for several months until the real artists proved the joke with a film of their work, and now got invited to join him on stage for his concert in Rock in Roma where we saw him last week (Would the real Modigliani heads please stand up?):


His concert is a classroom of i-don’t-give-a-fuck, of things as they used to be, of things that really matter. Whole families arrive, with little children in tow, as if to a picnic. They sing and jump and dance and yell. There is hope for Italy.

One song is about his native Puglia and how all problems are swept under the sand for the sake of tourism (with ciao, Phil, Anselmo thrown in):


In one song he compares Van Gogh to a youth of today, with the jumping Van Gogh joining him on stage:


London, Paris, Anverse, 


megastore, iper, multiplex.

(an interpretation and lyrics here)


He is not a persona gratta in Italian media therefore I was quite astonished by the interest (and by the smoothness of over 20,000 people dispersing after the concert). What I especially appreciate is that he is humble, happy, hilarious and never aggressive just justifiably angry where required.

Let me finish with a song that was not played at the concert but I wish to have it here. At the beginning he says not to hate him for his politics or his squeaky voice, if we have to hate him we should hate him for this song. And then he goes and spoils the endings of several movies, not just the ones with Kevin Spacey (even though there are enough of his to go around), and so we learn that Marley the Dog dies in the end, that Bruce Willis is dead in Sixth Sense, that Sid kills Nancy and that in the Others it is them who are the ghosts (what the fuck did you expect after the Sixth Sense?). He doesn’t forget Darth Vader either. But, the winner is, and remains, Kevin Spacey.


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