MV, 22 January 2019
FIFTH COLUMN
From how he presented himself, Adrian it's a soup of languages, images and overlays, founded on the expectation of a miracle that will not happen: mixing banalities, clichés, even politically correct obsessions, they think an amazing product will come out. As if a pimp of conformism, shaken and mixed, can produce unconventional fruit. Ma Adriano Celentano it has always been like this, he wants to amaze by saying banalities, he believes he is original and rebellious while remaining in the obvious and popular.
Celentano is legendary, starting with his extraordinary voice, then his mimicry and his paleo-rock movements. Sky blue, although signed by Paolo Conte, it is considered the most beautiful song in Italy in the Adrian version and it competes with Volare di Modugno in the title of sub-national anthem or patriotic pop anthem. It was released in May '68 and became the singing symbol of an Italy at peace with the world, with the sun, cabbage sky, with life and with love, against the spirit of '68. Celentano is an extraordinary voice as long as he doesn't pretend to fill it with content, of messages, of predictions. The donkey falls there, or the monkey, which as is known clumsily imitates humans and even God. And by the thunder and lightning that announce it, Celentano believes he is a god, or at least a derivation of it. A God. Redesigned in his perennial youth with comics he wants to become a legend, go from mortal to myth.
Years ago I studied its origin Spring loaded and I compared three dictionaries. Under the heading coelenterate it is written: type of invertebrate with a soft body and tentacles, equipped with a digestive cavity with a disc-shaped mouth opening, but disconnected from the head; in coelenterates the slit for feeding is the same as that used for expulsion. Everything explained. As a singer he was nostalgic (the boy from Gluck street), he preferred grass to blocks of flats, but in the sense of the countryside and not of cannabis and clashed with Gaber who instead preferred urbanization. In times of transgressions he sang Pregherò, in times of divorce it celebrated the united couple, in times of strikes he sang like a strikebreaker who doesn't work doesn't make love, defended femininity against trans people (That point). Then he moved from song to sermon, he discovered himself as a preacher, he became eco-unsustainable and a theologian of himself; he elected his wife not only press agent but also Vicar of Him on Earth and spokesperson of the Holy See, of Galbiate: Mori gives interviews in His Name and announces His Coming. Adriano singing lights up the heart, Celentano speaking turns off the brain. Here he becomes the prototype of the compliant Italian. He smells the air and as soon as he feels which way the wind is going, carries the banner. He sympathizes in a crafty-ecumenical way, he navigates between the right, left and center, more Catholics and ecologists. And to cover even the last edge of his butt, praises Beppe Grillo. Sometimes I think it's him, Adrian, the true precursor of the grillini and of universal ignorance elevated to virtue. He always comes to the rescue of the winners, like when the green left Berlusconian Catholic did. Inexperienced with everything, Celentano discovers Hot Water and pays homage to the sanctuaries of Political Correctness: the fight against homophobia and discrimination against women, the protection of the environment and research, cutting the salaries of parliamentarians and taxes and at the same time the defense of the poor against the rich (Celentani excluded), the tirade against the Nazis and the war. Come on, they hadn't thought about it, Thank goodness Adriano is here.
Bocca had called him "a talented idiot". There is a strong temptation to agree with Bocca only halfway, I won't tell you which one. A few intelligent ones. Musically he remains a dull genius, and takes on regal guise when he forms the queen couple of Italian song with the Absolute Sovereign, Mina, became legendary for its invisibility. Even today the two octogenarians are a prodigy of beauty, united in song.
Seeing Celentano and his way of moving you understand that Darwin had only half studied the problem of evolution: there is also a return round. When he intervenes in the public debate, his compliant and "correct" obviousness is irritating. But then you hear him sing and the Memory of Hadrian returns; you feel transported by his voice to a mythical and loving Italy, blue and green, timeless or of your mythical and perennial adolescence, and you reconcile with him. Come on Adriano, four times twenty years old, go back to singing. And from the closed fist a caress will be born.