EDITORIAL

T

he beginning of March has brought with it some very bad news: that of the passing of Lucio Dalla. But it comes with some small consolation: the knowledge that our little big Lucio of Italian song was so well-loved.
      From his Bologna to Puglia (“his” too, in so much that he spent his childhood holidays in Manfredonia and had a villa/studio perched on the cliffs of Cala Matana, on the Tremiti Islands, facing the view of the spellbinding sea that inspired songs like Luna Matana and Come è profondo il mare) the news of his death upset, moved and pained the whole of Italy in a way that can only be compared perhaps to the emotions felt on the deaths of two other great Italian artists: Pavarotti and Lucio Battisti.
      The affection of millions of people towards a public person whom one has probably never met, springs from what he was able to give. And Dalla gave us not only unforgettable music, but lyrics that were poems in their own right, and went straight to the heart. And if many of us, despite being cynical and shrewd in our busy daily lives, cannot but feel a lump in our throats on hearing the notes of Caruso, with the words te voglio bene assaje (I love you so much), simple but direct, piercing you like an arrow, or remember how he moved us, at the beginning of the 80s, with songs like Cara, or how his Balla balla ballerino or the lovely autobiographical fable 4 marzo 1943 went right to our hearts, for no plausible reason, then good; it means that our sentimental side, capable of loving, of yielding, of being moved, is still alive.
     And in the wake of the re-discovery of a sensitivity that seemed to have expired, we can insert another item of news in the interview in this month’s edition of Bridge. The life and works of the elderly Apulian-American poet Joseph Tusiani is the subject of a documentary by the young film director Sabrina Digregorio, which is to be screened in Rome for its national preview. A man with a singular experience of life lived on both sides of the Atlantic, of great cultural and human depth, a renowned and celebrated poet and writer, but certainly not a rock star or box office attraction. Despite this, Digregorio has chosen to dedicate her film to him and to his life.
      The message is clear: we are in the year 2012 but there is still room for poetry and a desire to talk about it.
      And the realization that the whole of Italy is in mourning for the loss of a great singer-songwriter is food for thought.
      The bitterness and grief we feel on Dalla’s passing has made us discover how much we loved him. And we loved him because his music and words made us feel strong emotions. His sudden death, just as spring timidly approaches, has reminded us. Reminded us that we are all the same as that tramp in Piazza Grande and, like him, a modo mio avrei bisogno di carezze anch’io (in my way, I need caresses too).