Giovanni Ansaldo: The Road of Vinicio Capossela

When I read that “The road of Vinicio Capossela. A journey in the footsteps of Ovunque Proteggi” (Nottetempo, 17 euros) by Giovanni Ansaldo, journalist for Internazionale, would be released, I was a little annoyed. This is the book I would have liked to write, or rather, I would also have liked to give life to a volume that dealt with this album by the singer-songwriter from Irpinia. Then, shortly after, I thought that, all things considered, I was very happy, because I could read this book and, at the same time, share the passion for the work of 2006, which turns 20 this year, with someone who – certainly – shares the passion for these 13 songs. The expectations were all respected and repaid, on all fronts (then, like all the rancors that Vinicio himself sings, I would have focused on other aspects, but it doesn’t matter…), and the volume is a nice guide, and also a map, and a map to follow the journey that Capossela took between 2004 and the end of 2005 to publish his sixth album, “Ovunque Proteggi”.

Ansaldo immediately confesses his love and passion for this work which, in the margin of his reflections, is a seminal album, that is, an album that was able to make the difference, which divided Capossela’s career between a before and an after “Ovunque Proteggi”. Before, in fact, there had been “Il Ballo di San Vito”, and this is already a work that many Italian artists dream of being able to equal. Then came “Canzoni a Manovella”, and Capossela, in fact, was rightfully projected into the Olympus of Italian author music, alongside the tutelary deities of Guccini (who had baptized him), De Gregori, Conte (always seen as the older brother), Fossati, Finardi (due to the less pop and more rock vein of his music, up to that point). That 2000 album showed a Capossela still linked to Tom Waits, but capable of a poetics that brought together high literature, nonsense, theater and cabaret, jazz music and sounds of the world (far and near). In short, an album that had already imposed a change. Doing better – for those who, like me, had experienced those two records and their magnificent tours – was hard, difficult, complex. In short, Capossela was awaited the litmus test.

The time came for a collection, which gave rise to a series of concerts opened by an unusual live performance: Capossela in a ring that clashed with his musical past. I was there, and you could tell that something was changing. “The indispensable”, the title of the collection, went well, it did its job, it brought new life to our work, but in fact that world was now too narrow for him. We needed to leave to look for something new, and Capossela did it. Ansaldo, with a fresh, linear style and without weighing down the narrative with unnecessary digressions, writes a travel diary that follows the 13 stages of this album. Milan and Rubiera, where the record becomes an album, and then all the other stops for processing and creation, such as the Ispinigoli Cave (the caves are dear to Capossela’s music), Calitri, Scicli, Capodistria, Treviso, the Montebello Monastery, with two stops abroad (so to speak), namely Moscow and Beijing. A path of songs, quoting Chatwin, along which Capossela, and the many musicians who helped him, effectively created an album which, Ansaldo clearly underlines, was not there before his departure, if not for some suggestions. This is a nomadic album, and not only for the choice of themes, for the books cited and taken as inspiration, or for the holidays and popular music, but because it is music born from creative urgencies in motion.

Each song is told from the inside. Genesis, anecdotes – perhaps a few more wouldn’t have gone amiss – and precise references. The makings of an excellent journalist can be seen from the progress of the narrative. We advance when there are sources, words, testimonies and certainties. You don’t improvise, you don’t go by hearsay. Facts occur, or confirmation is sought in the words of the creator, or some of his collaborators. Many, and it is incredible that so many minds and ways of understanding art have worked together. From Mauro Pagani to Marc Ribot, from “Asso” Stefana to Vincenzo Vasi, passing through Mario Brunello, and then magicians, instrumentalists, bands, popular songs, floats and cowbells, verses, noises and sounds. Everything put into a great blender – Capossela’s creativity – which was able to extract an excellent, rich and proteinic juice, which then generated this album. All too respectful of the sacredness of this work, Ansaldo decides to intervene only in the final part, in the last pages, where – finally – he puts his own spin on it. Because – and to think that he has also repeated it several times throughout the book – a record, a song and, in general, music, need an audience to be complete.

This part would have been very interesting: to understand how a twenty-year-old (in fact slightly younger than me) had confronted this record in a university apartment in Milan. I say this because I remember well the reactions of my friends and roommates: a record that cannot be sung. This is the accusation that many made towards that record. Until that moment Capossela had been a pianist and singer in smoky halls, ramshackle clubs, nocturnal arches. With “Ovunque Proteggi” we go to conquer theaters and musical spaces that Capossela will never abandon, just as his audience will never go back. He will adapt to those places and evolve with his music. Without a doubt this is the other great miracle of the album: having made the audience grow, taking it far from its comfort zone. Transubstantiation which, in fact, only Capossela managed, and thanks to an album full of grace.

The last challenge of this book was to try to tell the song “Ovunque Proteggi”, a magical text, one of the most beautiful songs written in the Bel Paese since pop music existed. This challenge is also won by Ansaldo, who manages to say what was not yet known about a text that is clearly imprinted in the minds of Capossela’s fans. A chapter where the right amount of anecdotal merges with the ability to reconstruct the magic of a unique creative act (the only precedent is that of Daniele Funaro in “But we’re not the same” – our review – when he recounts the genesis of “One” by U2). All supported by the public release of a private message sent by Capossela to Ansaldo himself. These closing pages are simply perfect, just like the song that closes the album which can now be listened to, after 20 years, with the reaching of a greater age of awareness, which is enriched with an excellent reading and support tool to delve deeply into these 13 songs of pure beauty.

Article by Luca Cremonesi