In Italy there’s a singer-songwriter that holds together Luigi Tenco, and a certain minimalism that we could define to Win Mertens. A formula that has made obvious in the scene yesterday evening at the Angelo Mai in Rome when, with him in nine on stage, and also an accompaniment of chamber music for violin, cello and trumpet, has reshaped its repertoire estasiando the audience of the faithful, and crowded beyond belief, however after a long queue at the entrance.
Andrea Laszlo De Simone is a unique absolute in the scene of Italian music, it doesn’t look like anyone, maybe not looks like it’s not too often to himself. For the music that he writes, in the first place: a song-form elongated, full of caves and trap doors, and ups and downs, ways of escape, without solution of continuity, and who knows them, to where you will end up. And then for the image, which does not grant anything to the logics that apply in the show: if he is on stage with her dress in pastel and the cigarette that hangs on the side, every now and then a breath between one phrase and another, and succeeds well not cough ever. It seems that you use it as a screen defense: shy? Yes, but also very bold, to say the poet.
they Say it is a bit of a perfectionist, but the long hair and the mustache the Rasputin, the absolute love and without hope which sings in his songs I would like rather a foolish, a fool in love, a fool for life. Of course we talk about the songs, and then here are the titles: Come to my rescue, a heartbreaking prayer of love and mysticism, our end, the painful and mertensiana picture of what is there combines life while we are committed to do, a piece here, and this becomes long at well over ten minutes compared to a 3-and-a-half of the original. And then the Shells, a bitter reflection on the human condition, the fragility of everyone and the power to overcome them. And the war of The kisses, the spiral of the meaning of love, and of curves of sound.
One of those rare concerts that are beyond even the rule of the concertos for one and then screams and the artist returns, and there is a because he may stop and the public to ask it to return. There was at the end instead of the same embarrassment to ask that you find in his songs, to follow the rules, to search together for how to force them, and interpret them. Maybe there was also happiness in life. As in a song to finish and then start again without rules, as a suite unexpected. The concert finished with an encore, but could not be there. And also the applause could not be, and indeed there was. In its extreme and simple complexity, Andrew Laszlo cannot be told, must be heard and seen, as all artists at the bitter end, those who express themselves beyond the rule and good sense.
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