4 March 2017.
Lucio Dalla would have turned his seventy-fourth birthday.
But he died on the 1st of March 2012.
Lucio was an Italian musician, composer, songwriter, activist, performer, talent scout, TV producer, and actor.
He was a living legend. A milestone of Italian musical history and heritage.
I have had so many songs of him in my head lately. Lucio’s music is like a story full of adventures.
Each song takes my mind far away. Where I can roam like a fish chasing thoughts.
I miss him so much.
Lucio was the voice of post-war aspirations and frustrations yet his words still sounds so contemporary. His lyrics ranged from the lives of ordinary people to his love for the sea, from issues surrounding environment to issues of migration and injustices. And, of course, he wrote about love.
Love is love. Even if it will not last until tomorrow, he sang.
Lucio’s birthday — March 4, 1943 — became famous , as giving the title to his first wide-recognized success, in 1971, after the original name, “Jesus Child,” was censored. This song was also interpreted in French by Dalida, and in Brasilian by Chico Buarque de Hollanda.
His most-known song, Caruso, sold millions of copies even in the United States and Canada, and it was recorded by many singers, including Julio Iglesias, Luciano Pavarotti and Josh Groban.
My love for Italian music, for the imaginative words and constructions that my language allows, owes everything to Lucio.
I was only 1 year old when Lucio sang the song ‘Beware of the Wolf’ . I was 4 years old when I learned that song’s lyrics, and I was 13 years old when I understood that it was not talking about Little Red Riding Hood.
Nowadays, I keep on telling ‘Call me in twenty-years’ to my ex-boyfriend, because now I do not know what to tell him. But Lucio tells me, by then, I’ll know.
‘If I was an angel’, I would not spend my time punishing all the corrupts, but rather I would sing ‘All life long’ with Lucio.
I would like to think that he is still out there somewhere. Where the sea shines and the wind blows strong like in an old terrace facing the gulf of Sorrento. Or maybe, he is just in a little alley in Rome, waiting for another ‘Evening of miracles’ in the night of ‘The last moon’.
My cousin believes he must be hiding in a wood. Where there is a little small house, with many small and coloured windows, and a little woman with two big eyes made for watching.
If so, beware of the wolf Lucio! Beware!