“I would like to give him a strong emotion, show him that life is wonderful and full of surprises and emotions even if sometimes he gives us bestial blows.”
A request full of love, pain and hope started from Messina and pointed straight to the heart of Cesare Cremonini. A Fan Messina, just two days before the concert, had launched a heartfelt appeal on social media to the Bolognese singer -songwriter and musician, asking that during the concert in the city of the Strait he planted even for a few seconds “I would like”, one of his most intimate and significant songs.
And Cremonini, consciously or not, made his desire. “Ce, please … sing” I would like “to Messina, as you did in your city. Even for a few seconds.” Thus began the touching message that an aunt had published, telling that he had followed Cremonini in many stages, but that this date for her had a special value.
He would have been in the audience with his nephew, the same one who had cradled as a newborn on the notes of “I would like”. A song that, he writes, for them means a lot, especially today that Life has put them hard to the test.
“I would like to give him a strong emotion, to show him that life is wonderful, full of surprises and emotions, even if sometimes he gives us bestial blows.” And it is precisely that surprise that materialized last night at the concert at the “Franco Scoglio” stadium in Messina. When Cesare, in the heart of his performance, remembering his debut in Capo d’Orlando, intoned “I would like”, the public exploded in a moved choir. A short but intense moment, which touched deep ropes. He dedicated it to all boys and girls who have been following him for 25 years.
So “I would like” in Messina it was not only a song, the “indelible memory” of that first concert, but represented a gift, a signal, a caress. And even if Cremonini probably did not read the message of that fan directly, that gesture on stage had the strength of an answer. Also for an aunt and nephew, “an indelible memory”: a song that has become a refuge, memory and hope. The confirmation that music – the real one – knows how to listen.