For Lucio (Per Lucio)

Beppe Caschetto and Rai Cinema present

an IBC Movie production in collaboration with Avventurosa

with the support of Regione Emilia-Romagna

with the support of Regione Lazio.

Regional Fund for Cinema and Audiovisuals

in collaboration with

a film by Pietro Marcello.

FOR LUCIO

MUSIC, POET, MASTER IN LIFE

Dear Tobia,

you were with Lucio for many years.

Were you always his manager?

No, I began in 1966

when he came into the restaurant Cesari.

And said to me, ''Tobia, I need to talk to you

because I need a manager.

Because I'm not happy with the one I have''.

I said, ''I've never been a manager''.

''I trust you.''

And then he said...

He left.

He was wearing a bike helmet.

I hadn't even recognized him.

Then he came back and said,

''Tobia, I forgot to tell you something.

I'm broke''.

My first concert was in Gallipoli.

I remember that

at the entrance it said,

''man'', and a price ''woman'', another price.

There were lots of people dancing

so I went to get the money.

Panic.

I went to this guy,

one of the organizers, and told him,

''Listen. Let's count the money''.

''I have no money.''

''But the venue is full.

How can you say that?

You signed a contract,

I set off from Bologna,

for you to tell me,

'Good morning'? I don't think so.

We need to fix that.''

So, what did I do?

I quickly stole his and his friend's Rolexes.

Both their watches.

And then I told him,

''Tomorrow I'll be at Hotel Plaza in Taranto.''

Another Carnival party.

''If you bring the money,

I'll give back the Rolexes. Otherwise, I'll keep them.''

I'm happy to have had this night as my debut with Lucio.

And so she was left alone in the room.

The room overlooking the port.

Her only clothes what she had on.

And the days shorter and shorter.

And though she didn't know his name.

Or what country he was from.

She awaited me like a gift of love From that first month on.

SUBWAY

Lucio told me to go to his house.

I rang the bell and his mother opened the door.

Lucio hadn't arrived yet,

or wasn't there, I don't remember anymore.

His mother asked me, ''So you're Tobia, the manager?

Of what? My son's manager?

Manager of what?

He must find a job, and he must study.

He needs to stop acting like a clown. You understand?''

As the old adage says, 'There is only one mother'.

It's true.

I remember that time with great delight.

- What is happening? - It's a mother with a problem.

- A problem? - Her son has a beard.

I'm so sorry. Do you want me to make it disappear?

- I wish. - You'd be happy?

- The happiest. - Only the beard?

- Does he have long hair, too? - He does.

Long hair, too!

Maybe you need a barber rather than a magician.

I'd love that.

Look, we have a fantastic singer we'll soon introduce,

who has a beard and long hair and yet, he's liked by many.

- What's your name, madam? - Dalla.

Dalla? But...

- Our singer is Dalla, too. - So strange.

- Where are you from? - Bologna.

He's from Bologna, too! Where do you live?

Does he have a beard?

- He does. - Then, it's him.

It's him!

Of course!

Lucio Dalla, here he is!

Come here, Lucio.

You don't want your son to have a beard?

But it's so nice.

She was the first who gave a beard to me.

Oh, it was you?

You could act in a film based on the Bible.

Or on the Risorgimento.

- He vaguely resembles... who? - Garibaldi.

Anyone from the Risorgimento era.

He sings well, though, madam.

- I like it. - You do?

That's bad...

You must be happy, right?

- Is that good for you? - Very good.

Alright, do you want to dedicate a nice song to her?

It's not exactly fitting. It's called ''When I was a soldier''.

Your mother is not exactly a soldier.

It fits well with today's theme: silence.

Madam, you will be escorted...

Lucio was called by Zecchino d'Oro

to sing a song.

And he brought his mother.

He always used to invite his mother,

but she'd never go because,

and I think she was right,

she'd say, ''I don't want to embarrass him while he's working.

There will be other occasions''.

And that was an occasion

because it wasn't a concert, just one song.

That was the first time I saw Lucio with his mother

at the Antoniano.

And I remember a detail.

She slipped.

It was also shown on TV.

And then, the camera panned away and she was helped up.

Everything went well.

It was a lovely night.

His mother would make him the clothes

and the purses he used.

She'd make a lot of things,

and, to Lucio, she was very important. Family first.

His father died when he was six.

All his affection went to his mother.

His mother would always stand by him even though...

initially, she changed her mind later on,

initially she was like any other mother at that time.

They were obsessed with finding a stable job for their children.

But that wasn't a stable job.

The director of this program

decided to compare some of the candidates

who came for the audition,

and who weren't always well-prepared,

with personalities who have had a great success

which is still current and valid.

One of them is Lucio Dalla.

Hello.

I'm very glad to have you as our guest.

Because you're one of the few people

with a very solid musical background.

You have a top-notch jazz background.

Yes, I started out as a clarinet player.

Initially as an amateur and then as a professional.

Where did you use to play?

My first band was based in Bologna,

it was called the Reno Jazz Gang.

Then, I moved to Rome

and played with the Second Roman New Orleans for two years,

as a clarinettist.

I didn't sing back then. It wasn't in my plans.

I see. How come you left the jazz scene?

A big reason was that it wasn't economically viable.

I literally needed to eat.

I was 17 or 18 in a city that wasn't my hometown.

I would often starve and sleep on the streets.

I think I was a predecessor of the hippie culture

because I had no place to sleep.

But the main reason

was that I had already noticed, and lately even more so,

that there was a large gap between the music I used to make

and the recipient of my music: the audience.

After all, jazz is a biologically unknown language.

It's a type of music that we can only perceive intellectually.

We can love it, but we can't understand it.

- We can't make it ours. - We can't transfer it.

Jazz is the technical background

that I use to express myself

and make music that is not underground

and that deals with issues that are Mediterranean,

- almost folkloric. - I see.

Day after day.

Sun after sun.

I’ve never reckoned.

How far I've walked.

When I look around

I don't realize.

Whether I'm in Rome.

Or a foreigner, I am here.

I watch the river and the city.

I watch the water, and watch within me.

Everything is rushing forward

but where does it go?

The river, the ocean, then I don't know.

Roads and alleys, then I don't know.

One always leaves but never arrives.

Never.

I followed a shadow.