" I if I were a boy, brings you the guitar. Follows him everywhere. I feel like singing squares, I would see laborers moved, excited, and give him hope he sings, "writes Ignazio Buttitta Pino Veneziano, calling it" a storyteller who makes policy, and with sublime poetry.
Others, such as Ascanio Celestini, would say that Venice is "one of those singers, artists oral culture that in some countries, such as the United States of America, would become a cult object, a bit 'like Woodie Guthrie or fathers of the blues. " Only that Pino was born in Riesi, in the Sicilian-thirties, and would have revealed the existence of America only a few years later, perhaps when a boy herding goats in the countryside of Sciacca, or did the baker's boy to Castelvetrano. Or when he moved to Trapani, in a seaside village, where this story begins.
Lido Azzurro in Marinella di Selinunte, in the seventies, was a place dove, dopo aver mangiato e bevuto, si potevano ascoltare canzoni dal “parlare naturale”: quelle di Pino Veneziano che, dopo aver servito ai tavoli, in certe serate tirava fuori la chitarra. Tra i clienti, oltre a scrittori, giornalisti, artisti di ogni parte del mondo, poteva capitare di incontrare Danilo Dolci, Primo Levi, Fabrizio De Andrè. Il quale, dopo averlo ascoltato, invitò Pino ad aprire il suo primo concerto in Sicilia, nel 1975 a Marsala.
Una volta, in quel posto arrivò anche Jorge Luis Borges; ad accompagnare il poeta c'era il fotografo Ferdinando Scianna che scattò Photo of the meeting. In a Borges is smiling in the foreground and a light in his eyes like a blind man. Behind Pino Veneziano is singing his songs, as he did with friends and clients. At the end of that meeting the poet, says Umberto Leone, wanted to touch his face, "Pino had a face like a gypsy that seemed carved from south-west and the south wind, Borges plumb it to him slowly, barely touching her, to understand every curve, every furrow that had dug that flight. It was a scene of great emotion. "
Marinella di Selinunte, in those years was the focus of many people and many passions. It was therefore natural that, attracted by the sea, from the temples and also by the Sardinian restaurant Don Pino, competed in beauty with the temple of Hera few hundred meters away, the Blue Beach could become, for a certain period of time and a conjunction of time and space that only distracted when they call, in a sort of magnetic center.
Pino Veneziano, from speaking natural
One day in 1972, a musician passing gave him a guitar, "Pino took her hand as if he had lost their entire life," recalls Jojo, his friend and partner in the restaurant and Veneziano, forty years, he learned to play it.
not Arcadia but Sicily, between the sea and the countryside of Castelvetrano, a country where a few years earlier had been murdered Salvatore Giuliano, not far from Cinisi Peppino Impastato or Trapani Mauro Rostagno. These were the years of the barracks in Belice earthquakes, protest marches, and massacres of the Democratic regime of State.
In his songs, sung in Sicilian dialect with a dark voice and old, using attacks and almost spoken storyteller, there are the struggles of the seventies, died on the job, the bomb Piazza della Loggia, the pollution of Gela, the progress "has lengthened the pitch and fool that I'm going below." The invitation to do this, in every land, a garden.
But not only are his songs that sing of the sweetness of September, the beauty of nature, love, cats in heat and whores.
Veneziano embraces the guitar as a sheet of paper on which to write the words of a man "or crazy or criminal, but by speaking naturally." Speaking of "poor" innocent, poor, migrants, exploited.
It becomes, Pino's guitar, an instrument with which to send fascist fuck, priests and masters "son of a bitch and whore mother" shouting "We want all that is ours! Yours? I'll leave! So much nothing. "
His only album, recorded in less than a thousand copies in 1975 for October circles of Lotta Continua, is called "Lu Patruno and suvecchiu", "the owner is too much."
Twelve songs for little more than thirty-five minutes, to hear them now, still shaking, strong, true, dry. Natural essential to a man. Pino, thanks to that gift, he had become what he had always been: a poet who told stories that no one else could see, turning them into poetry in song.
of this land let's make a garden
who died in 1994 when his guitar in recent years had begun to forget, gathering dust and some rope was broken - in addition to its single disc, Pino Veneziano also left half signs that you can see in people who have known him, recognized the passion that is released as a tattoo can be worn with pride.
A Castelvetrano's Association "Pino Veneziano (www.pinoveneziano.it), for example, that over six years to organize the Award intitolato a Pino, porta avanti idee e proposte culturali e sociali; e il nome di Veneziano diventa così, come è anche giusto che sia, mezzo, non soltanto fine.
Solo che da diversi anni questo, che è anche il territorio del boss mafioso Matteo Messina Denaro, è “offeso dal tentativo di cementificazione incombente e reclama il diritto a essere quello che è, un'oasi di pace e di cultura” come dicono alcuni suoi abitanti, in un appello per Selinunte promosso dall'Associazione, firmato da scrittori, musicisti, intellettuali, cittadini e diffuso in occasione della sesta edizione del Premio, assieme ad un libro/tributo su Pino Veneziano e ad un cd dal title of "let's make this earth a garden." In the book, among others, the writings of Vincenzo Consolo, Ascanio Celestini. Ignazio Buttitta, Gaetano Savatteri. Among the musicians who participated in the cd playing covers of Venice, as well as those who attended the concert, Peppe Barra, Moni Ovadia, Mondorchestra, Gabriele Rampino, Roy Paci, Officina Zoe, Sud Sound System.
The tribute concert
It's a little 'effect to hear the songs of Pino Veneziano, born between the plastic tablecloths and the smell of fried fish for his restaurant on the sea, carried out in an August evening in the Archaeological Park of Selinunte in the temple of Hera, Goddess who welcomes us with the embrace warmth of his columns, the background of this outdoor concert. The air smells of thyme, wild parsley, oregano and on our right, in an African sky, the little wagon. All around, a thick bubble humidity envelops us drowning in sweat and liquefying instruments, musicians, audience, plastic chairs and sacred groves.
The sixth edition of the Pino Veneziano opens with a speech reminiscent of Vincenzo Consolo Vincenzo Tusa, archaeologist from the heart of peasant, turning in grave robbers and guards managed to make it to expropriate the land mafia, has created what is the Archaeological Park of Selinunte. The following is a remembrance and a tribute for Gianni Diecidue, poet and agitator libertarian who died recently.
Among the musicians on the bill, even Roy Paci. But, because of a cat met on a bus, causing something akin to an anaphylactic shock, put him offside, the Paci - allergic to cat fur-awaited by all in flesh and trumpet, it was shown on the phone instead of wings Mercury. That is a our mobile phone which he communicated with the audience, apologizing for the absence, thanking those who had invited him and telling the owner of the cat, animal incorruptible, his grievances had sent him to that country in a bad way. Roy has quietly concluded his speech by pointing to a recipe of my knowledge that, due to interference in the reception, did not understand what kind of animal it meant. Of course, cooked with olives and celery: like the rabbit, but not quite.
then appeared on stage is Pino Masi. "And where this check?" Has now asked a man sitting a few rows ahead. "It must have been some unexpected materialization. Time machines are no longer used to be, "he replied absently daughter sitting beside a brat who had not stopped fiddling with the play station all the time of the call and they forgot to Greek temples, music and musicians.
Michela Musolino opens his show playing beautifully a cappella, "A Santu" and after that, some other song from her CD "Songs of Trinacria." Work where the Italian-American singer, thanks to the lightness in the arrangements and her beautiful voice, knows how to remove the shawls blacks, the cypresses and the polls that some misunderstanding-think-should be required reading in all of popular music and of Sicilian Rosa Balistreri in particular.
Then the resounding Umberto Leone, that when one gets on stage to sing as if he had just kissed a nymph in the mouth of a sudden, there among the olive trees.
And again, the Palermo Art Ensemble of musicians who accompanied the singers, Rocco Pollina with some guys of the band of the Master of Asaro Paceco that prefaces his reading of "The Mafia does not exist" by voice of Toto Riina who complains of essere vittima dei comunisti; una applauditissima Clara Salvo accompagnata da Matilde Politi, quest'ultima purtroppo in sordina per scelte della scaletta; Pippo Pollina, Etta Scollo e, sorpresa della serata, Enrico Stassi.
Il quale, con la sua definitiva rilettura di Tom Waits, mischiando l'Orco di Pomona con il Trionfo di Santa Rosalia, usa il dialetto siciliano e le abbanniate come centro dal quale partire: Ucciria, Santuzza e panino cu la stigghiola come riferimenti emozionali e geografici. Il tutto per la necessaria comprensione della poetica di Tom Waits, chiaro. E laddove tutte queste cose non fossero vere, come potrebbe anche essere, la mitica interpretazione di Enrico Stassi rimane in ogni caso una delle cose divertenti di questa serata.
Nel dopoconcerto alla “Zabbarra”, la trattoria sul mare, Pino Masi fa una considerazione: “bisogna morire per essere ricordati”. Vero: non tutti hanno la fortuna di morire al momento giusto e, a volerla dire com'è, alcuni sopravvivono dannosamente a se stessi. Nel frattempo, dopo che tutti chissà per quale suggestione avevano evitato il coniglio con le olive e sedano, arrivano le sarde arrosto di Jojò: standing ovation.
“Come these sardines from the next table takes a customer casually replying to Masi. "Presbyopia is called" cut short a brat - always the same - sitting nearby, without even looking up from his play station and they forgot all : sardines, cats and rabbits.
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