A little music...
My dog went out.
Maestro, how wonderful ! I can't believe it!
What a pleasure ! I'm so happy to see you.
89 years old !
Amazing, you look fabulous.
- It was a special occasion. - So delighted to see you. - I am too.
What a pleasure! Come in.
- This is a surprise for me. - For me as well.
Talking, I said: "Maestro Gentile, the one I know ?"
"Yes, the great violinist, and pianist also."
What a beautiful man, and violinist! We performed many times together...
Neapolitan Heart
Give me... We'll do it like this.
..and accept a tiny kiss...
a tiny kiss...
This is the big problem.
Ignoring the origins of the Neapolitan song,
which was born from Arab laments and Spanish folksongs,
there was a dispute over this song
between the poet Ferdinando Russo and Gabriele D'Annunzio.
Russo said: "You are the grandest poet in Italy,
but you can't make the common woman's heart skip a beat."
"You're a poet of the educated people."
This provocation struck D'Annunzio,
who frequented Café Gambrinus but never paid.
They saved the tab with the amount of money D'Annunzio owed.
The honor of having such a great poet... he never paid.
D'Annunzio was to meet Salvatore Di Giacomo,
and wrote on a marble table: "You have a small and withered mouth."
Upon meeting Di Giacomo he said: "Maestro, I stole one of your words."
Di Giacomo, in one of his poems, addressing a middleaged woman said:
"You're like a weathered grape, you're a bit withered."
"My lady Carmela, believe me,
"I'd never exchange you for a young lass."
This song was particularly lucky
because it was written by D'Annunzio with Di Giacomo's word,
sung for the first time by Enrico Caruso.
When a song is born lucky...
You're like a flower,
you have a tiny mouth, slighty... withered.
Give me it, give me it.
It's like a rosebud,
give me a tiny kiss, give me it, Cannatella.
Give me it and accept a tiny kiss.
A tiny kiss
like this small mouth
which resembles a rosebud...
a bit withered !
Yes, you have a small mouth
a bit... withered.
You saved yourself by holding that last note.
We're prepared to forgive you.
Let's do "Voce 'e notte", "Torna a Surriento", "'0 Sole Mio" ?
Do "Voce 'e Notte".
Eduardo Nicolardi, when he wrote it, was engaged to a woman who loved him.
Her father said, and economically speaking you can't blame him:
"You're marrying a songwriter ? Will you eat the songs ?"
America, I've been going there for 25 years for work, I sing.
I have friends who host me.
They come get me at the airport.
I wait for my booking agent to call me
and tell me where we'll perform.
It could be in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, Atlantic City.
We go to casinos, private mansions,
taverns, eateries, restaurants, everywhere.
Come in, please.
The museum owner called me and said:
"Luigi, come here because there's a movie man
who wants to film some things on Caruso."
"Would you like to come sing ?"
I said: "Sure".
This is the Caruso Museum.
We opened it ten years ago.
My father came to America in 1920.
When he got here, he heard Caruso,
he liked him so much because he played the piano too
and my mother sang arias.
My father bought all of Caruso's records.
When he came here Italians were looked down upon.
When Caruso arrived in America he helped them progress,
because they now had a big shot like him.
He was great and had a good heart.
Heart, ungrateful heart,
you took my life,
and now it's in your past
and you don 't think about me... anymore.
This is a Neapolitan song that only Caruso sang so well.
It's so beautiful.
Caruso had a heart that was bigger than his voice.
This is such a beautiful song,
they sold a lot of copies of this record in New York.
No one sings this song the way he does.
My pal Luigi Todisco has a voice like Caruso.
Thanks, Aldo, what a compliment.
Heart, ungrateful heart,
you took my life...
I don't remember the rest.
- Let's do a folksong. - A folk tune. This was a folksong.
Let's do one that you and I both remember...
- "Comme facette mammeta" ? - A quick number ?
If you sing, I'll start...
I can say this, after many years.
They say I'm the bearer of Neapolitan songs, and I am.
Even if there are 10,000 people singing in Italian in a theater,
I'll go out and sing in Neapolitan.
When you come to the rendezvous,
look at the sea and the foliage,
when I speak, you don't respond...
I began playing the violin at WV, the radio, TV didn't exist yet.
Then I started doing Italian theater which was better money.
Now you're forgetting me...
I performed in America and Italy with Mignonette.
Then I was with Ria Rosa much more often.
Each of her songs was like a novel.
This is the beauty of the songs of my time.
She sang a song but described an entire life.
When I arrived aboard the steamship, "Constitution",
my first time in America, it was raining.
A newspaper says: "Rita Berti brought a bit of sunshine to New York."
Good thing I brought sunshine!
And she spoke French like this,
Reginella...
Yes sir, Reginella of Toledo.
I cared for you,
you care for me.
We don 't love each other anymore sometimes though...
... you absentmindedly think of me.
He'd say: "At home we speak Neapolitan."
"Speak what you want outside, but at home, Neapolitan".
Italians are good for loving and singing.
They're good at singing and making love.
What beautiful fresh air
that smells of geraniums
but you're asleep
above these rose branches.
The sun peers out over this garden.
The wind passes by and kisses
this curl on your forehead.
I would like to kiss you,
I would like to kiss you,
but my heart doesn 't tell me to wake you up.
I'd like to fall asleep as well...
I'd like to fall asleep as well...
next to your breathing...
for an hour!
Come down, Luciana ! Silence please.
Make room for Luciana.
Your hips are like a little mouth, my little Luciana.
What do you say, do, think, will you give it to me ?
I'm dying...
I'm dying for you!
How beautiful it is to make love to you,
I want to kiss you.
How beautiful it is to make love to you,
I want to kiss you over and over...
This pretty braid full of beauty
drives me crazy, I can't even look at it.
What do you say, do, think ? Will you give it to me ?
THIS IS AN IMPORTANT DAY FOR US.
I BEGAN LOVING YOU 6-29-1994 AND NOW I'M MARRING YOU.
ON THIS JOYOUS DAY, 6-30-2001 WITH ALL MY HEART.
I'm dying for you!
How beautiful it is to make love to you.
I want to kiss you over and over...
Is on your forehead...
There were seven cafes here.
We'd remain until 2:00 AM talking.
It was the songwriters' circle. Songwriters were here too.
First they were at Gambrinus, then they came to the Galleria.
First came the songwriters, then singers, then actors...
A classical singer must study, he must read up.
You can't just sing things.
Once we were here on the first floor, Mimi Giordano's school was here.
When a singer wasn't suitable: "Leave, go learn the trade !".
You can't say that anymore,
there are big shots who want their kids to be artists.
- Now it's being destroyed. - No, classic songs won't die.
- There's nothing new. - Never mind.
When they ask: "What point is Neapolitan music at today ?",
you must say: "It will never die, it's universal."
- But there's no continuity. - That's another issue.
There are no more composers.
Neapolitan music is melody,
even if it's cheerful, it's still a melody.
It's always a melody.
My daughter sings modern songs.
For me, classic Neapolitan songs will never die,
they'll always be the most beautiful.
These days, singers sprout up like mushrooms.
Even if my daughter sings,
I believe classic Neapolitan songs will never die.
When there was the Festival, Mario Trevi and Milva sang.
Mario Trevi sold in the south and Milva in the north.
The song was well known in the south and north.
Instead, if they sing in Neapolitan only, the song remains here.
No way, Pavarotti's last concert was in China,
he sang Neapolitan songs and the Chinese applauded,
even though they don't understand a word of Neapolitan !
He's a Maestro, Mario.
I have to yank your ears, you said something you shouldn't have.
You spoke too soon !
There's no continuity.
When I hear Neapolitan songs I like,
I get this feeling, like clockwork, in my stomach,
something emotionally powerful.
Maybe it only happens to me, but I sense a great love.
Not love like in sentimental songs. Love like energy, something...
The words always contain a universal theme,
there's never the banality of the relationship itself.
What do we care if people leave or love each other ?
Instead, through this means,
poets were able to go beyond.
- Let's not do this intro. - Let me hear this.
This is how I like it. If you kill me, I won't say a word...
For example, "Indifferentemente"
is a composition made with great pride
because you can feel the pride, it's gypsylike yet noble at the same time.
There's a filter of pain
and "Indifferentemente" is exactly that...
He's exasperated because of a woman, but she is merely a means.
Oh please...
She doesn't understand a thing...
A passionate song like this is a means! He kills himself!
A woman could have written this for a man.
In this case, a man wrote it for a woman,
but it's a means for expressing a feeling, the essential.
Do what you want with me,
it doesn't matter,
because I know what I am to you,
I mean nothing to you anymore.
So give me this poison, don't wait for tomorrow,
because it doesn't matter
even if you kill me I won't say a word.
I sing about love.
The classic Neapolitan song
allows me to express this yearning, passionate feeling.
Love has no limits. He kills himself!
He says: "Kill me, you have to be the one to kill me".
It's an idiom.
He doesn't say "I'll kill myself" but "you must kill me", it's different.
I don't agree, anyway...
Do what you want with me
it doesn't matter.
Because I know what I am to you,
I mean nothing to you anymore.
So give me this poison, don't wait for tomorrow,
it doesn't matter,
even if you kill me,
I won't say a word.
Go ahead and laugh, you 've stolen my heart.
I no longer feel pain
and I have no more tears for you.
Do what you want with me
it doesn't matter,
because I know what I am to you,
I mean nothing to you anymore.
So give me this poison, don 't wait for tomorrow,
it doesn 't matter,
if you kill me, I won 't say a word...
So give me this poison, don 't wait for tomorrow
it doesn 't matter,
even if you kill me, I won 't say a word.
Make this fever pass...
"Flatter me a bit more..." Is it true ?
Love, affection, helps us live, doesn't it ?
Affection helps us live !
When you embrace the man you love, you live more,
because you have hope of loving him tomorrow,
being near him, embraced... a kiss...
Oh life, oh my life...
Oh, heart! Oh, this heart!
You were my first love, you'll be my first and last.
Would you like a glass of cold water ? Want a drink ?
Toto sang "Malafemmena".
I clapped my hands!
Wonderful !
Beautiful !
I've gotta give you a kiss !
I would like, and I hope the others agree,
for you to sing "Canta pe' me".
- Do you know it ? - Of course! Sing me a song...
There's a sort of freedom, not exactly a Iicentiousness
but borders on it, that Neapolitan allows you.
Neapolitans are capable of talking
about "two old accordion teachers who go play in heaven".
In Naples, poets follow current events.
For example, Libero Bovio.
In the Sanita neighborhood, people cry: "What happened ?"
"He slashed the face of his lover, he's crazy !
Libero Bovio writes:
"Punches and razor cuts in the face, this is love in the Sanita area."
But even if I chop you to bits I have proof that I'm crazy."
Neapolitan daily news becomes poetry in Naples.
Sing me a song tonight,
you who are beautiful and have a golden voice...
Libero Bovio, like all Neapolitans,
was enamored of that giantess of Neapolitan music
named Elvira Donnarumma.
Like the great Caruso, she had throat problems.
The great Antonio Cardarelli, who was her doctor,
told her: "Lady you mustn't sing."
Then came the moment when Donnarumma had to confess this thing
and during a night of applause,
turning towards the proscenium, she said:
"I want to please you but I can't please everyone.
By now, you all know I am ill. I want to please one person."
A shout, like an explosion: "Canta pe' me" !
Libero Bovio wrote:
"Sing me a song tonight,
you who are beautiful and have a golden voice."
- You're lazy. - I only know half of it! Forgive me.
You're stingy! You should've skipped over...
Strum. Same key.
Why do you cry if the night is beautiful ?
You, a girl with a golden voice.
Sing for me, because I die,
I die when I hear a beautiful song.
Sing, my distant one, who has... returned.
Sing, my distant one, who has... returned,
you've returned and will never leave again.
Sing, because I have enchained you.
Sing, because I have enchained you,
because only you
can see me... die!
Sorry I'm not a fag, you were good.
MayI?
- Who knows if this song will come out ? - What's happening ?
Peppino Turco and Luigi Denza are composing a song
for today's cable car inauguration.
- In there ? - Yes, in the back of the shop.
The first Neapolitan song to have a publisher.
Magnificent!
They wrote the words, now they're writing the music.
Let's go, let's go up above... Let's go, let's go up above...
Funicoli, Funicola. Funicoli, Funicola.
Let's go, let's go up above... Funicoli, Funicola.
Let's go, let's go up above... Let's go, let's go up above...
Funicoli, Funicola. Funicoli, Funicola.
Let's go, let's go up above... Funicoli, Funicola.
Let's go, let's go up above... Let's go, let's go up above...
Funicoli, Funicola. Funicoli, Funicola.
Let's go, let's go up above... Funicoli, Funicola.
In 1880 Mt. Vesuvius' cable car was inaugurated.
But not enough people used it, because it was barely advertised
and because of the onset of a sort of cultural... idea
that this cable car would ruin the poetry and silence of the mountain.
So a journalist, a friend of these entrepreneurs, Peppino Turco,
decided to write a song and dedicate it to the mountain,
encouraging the residents to use the cable car.
In the hall of Hotel Quisisana, at the foot of the mountain,
he met Denza, a cultured musician, who came from classical music.
Legend has it that in one night the two wrote "Funicoli Funicola"
which was the emblem of Naples for many years.
If you're sleeping or awake, my dear,
listen to this voice for a moment.
The one who loves you is out in the street
singing you a sweet song.
But you're asleep and haven't woken,
these windows don't want to open.
This mandolin music is like Iacework,
wake up, my love, and sleep no more.
The derogatory term would be "posteggiatore",
someone who entertains you in places where you go eat.
Derogatory because they've bastardized it,
they use the same word for a parking lot attendant.
The vulgar term is posteggiatore, I prefer the French term, "tapeur".
You certainly will never know,
but you were born to bewitch me.
I'd like to sing a tune by Viviani,
before we were talking about less popular folksongs.
It's very beautiful. It's called "Concett'I".
It's all over, you can be happy, your heart satisfied.
You wanted everything: hats, objects, letters and portrait.
If, for another man you barbarically broke our bond,
maybe I'll suffer,
maybe I'll cry,
but then I reflect and say: "I pity you".
Concettina, Concettina,
I was the first to receive your kisses.
The kisses you gave me, I saved them
to give them back to you as a gift on your wedding day.
It's pretty much the same every night.
We're there to liven people up.
They come for a business dinner, then realize there's a talented singer
and they appreciate it, they become interested.
The emotions are almost always the same,
even if they ask for the same song three times a night.
If you see the person is interested in what you're saying,
it becomes more enjoyable.
It all becomes one, the place, the clients, and the music.
Concettina, Concettina,
I was the first to receive your kisses.
The kisses you gave me, I saved them
to give them back to you as a gift on your wedding day.
Antique, but also modern.
Some modern tunes convey that sensation, that reality.
Neapolitan songs are about the truth of every day life, of what happens.
Listening to them always does you good.
Especially if you're a bit... depressed,
it can be helpful, a distraction, listening to a good song.
It was May
and into your lap fell, bunches of red cherries.
The air was fresh and the garden smelled of roses from afar.
It was May, I can't forget,
a song we sang, our two voices,
the more time passes, the more I remember it...
The air was fresh and the song sweet.
She said "Love, love ! My heart, you go far away."
"You leave me and I count the hours,
who knows when you'll return !"
I replied: "I'll be back when the roses return."
"If this flower comes back in May,
I too will be here in May..."
If this flower comes back in May,
I too will be here in May..."
One Sunday I went to a restaurant with my daughter.
I don't like posteggiatori, I don't like listening to music while eating,
out of respect for the singer too,
with silverware clanking, people don't pay attention.
But I heard a voice with a strange accent.
I love her,
I care for her,
you tell her that I can't forget her...
When I was looking for work here...
I worked as a dishwasher, a waiter,
and when this job ended,
I didn't know what to do.
Once I saw there was a nice place, the Chiaia cable car.
I got my guitar and went there.
At first it was difficult.
I'm no very famous but, I'm used to different standards.
Street artists for me...
I know it's nothing to be ashamed of,
but it's tough to forget I'm a professor...
I pushed myself anyway, I went there
and after I was very happy, because I met many people, like Ciro Amoroso,
a policeman, who's now my professor of Neapolitan pronunciation.
He said: "Where did you learn it ? You sing well."
His words.
"You sing well, but you're missing something pronunciation-wise."
He showed me where Roberto Murolo lives...
How lovely the mountain is tonight, Iovelier than it's ever been.
Now you seem downtrodden and tired,
under the covers...
I'm Dino Rosi, I've lived in America for many years,
but my heart's still in Italy, in Naples.
I'm a singer in America and I stress that,
because in America there are still many Italo-Americans
who love old Neapolitan songs.
Every weekend I sing at a different venue
and in the summer I sing at outdoor festivals.
I must thank Padre Pio and all the saints,
and my Japanese producer who has a Neapolitan ear.
I've had great success, this sold over 10,000 copies in stores.
At my concerts, I always sell at least fifty.
I am honest, but all my booking agents,
except for the ones in New York, where I've lived for so long...
Outside of New York booking agents say:
"Be a bit dishonest. Tell them you've just arrived from Naples".
Thank God, with intelligence and Neapolitan slyness,
but innocently, I introduce myself, saying I've just arrived.
I'm Neapolitan-Calabrian.
Jerry Vale is a dear friend.
But besides for that, he has a great voice.
Even today, when he sings, his voice is...
That voice has something ! Who knows, a sort of...
What a beautiful sight it's a sunny day,
serene air after a storm.
But another sun even more beautiful,
my sun shines on your forehead.
The sun, my sun, shines on your forehead...
Of course you have to be Neapolitan !
If you're not Neapolitan, how can you sing it ?
Before pronouncing a word they should go to Naples and try to...
The Neapolitan language has its own syntax and grammar
like the Italian language.
Studying the text of Neapolitan songs
means taking punctuation into account.
Because one comma changes the sense of the song.
I have a great dream, for me:
to translate some Neapolitan songs into Russian.
There are translations
but the people who did them are more in line with opera singers,
who think that only the music is important,
so they do a formal translation of the verses.
Now that I understand it, it's great poetry to me
and it calls for the appropriate words.
This dark alley is so long.
Even the sun flees from it.
And you are there, rose, stone, and star,
Carmela...
And you cry only when no one's looking.
And scream only when no one 's listening.
But blood in your veins is thicker than water
Carmela...
The second part I heard in that restaurant.
It struck me
because he does his own rendition which grasps the text.
This is the first time I heard his Ukrainian version.
I don't understand it,
but he assured me that it's true to the original.
The sounds are good...
One day Libero Bovio, the great Neapolitan songwriter,
asked what these songs are.
His great poet's heart replied:
"All Neapolitan songs are doves with wings of gold
and above each wing, they hold a tear."
"And know what it is ?"
"A farewell to Naples from those who can't stay."
If this voice wakes you up at night
while you hold your husband tight near you.
Stay awake, stay awake if you want,
but make believe you are sound asleep.
Don't go to the window to play the spy.
Because you won't be wrong, this voice is mine.
It's the same voice from when both of us
shyly spoke as strangers.
I got into it slowly, first I sang an international repertoire.
Now I realize it was wrong, but I snubbed Neapolitan songs,
even though I'm from Naples.
They helped me get acquainted with real Neapolitan songs,
and I fell in love.
I decided to lend my voice to these songs
that made the history of Naples.
Don't shove !
What's your name ?
Let him write it.
It was like a canary in love this heart that sang day and night.
"Wake up", I say, but it doesn't want to wake up,
and now it doesn't even sing in the spring.
The one I love doesn't make me happy,
maybe it's written in the stars, it's fate:
"You can't give orders to the heart".
And so I keep my mouth shut!
Yes, I keep my mouth shut !
I love you, I love you and you're killing me.
Weddings are more commercial, you do them for money.
This is what I live off of.
My favorite events are ones like tonight, concerts, theaters,
but weddings, in terms of money, give you the most...
A lot of people get married ! Communions, Baptisms...
There's a saying that justifies us:
"If you're good, forget about it. If you're bad, think about it".
Think it over well, think it over well.
I love you.
I love you and you are...
killing me.
Someone told me that in Caruso's times,
singing at weddings was a great honor for a singer.
Now, it's within everyone's reach, it's become fashionable.
With these parties, they love calling in a singer,
having fun and listening to Neapolitan songs.
For us singers, for all of us, not just Maria Nazionale,
financially speaking, it's good that these events exist,
so singers can support themselves and produce their own work.
I would have never guessed
that going to restaurants to hear the songs of the posteggiatori
I too would've started doing it,
but giving it a turn that no one ever imagined,
bringing this tradition to weddings.
You go to each table without a mic.
I'm talking about "Reginella",
"Uocchie ch'arraggiunate,", "Palomma 'e Notte", there are so many.
Cheerful to melodic, they're part of a beautiful repertoire.
Psychologically you must seize the right moment at each table,
the requests, the age groups...
There are many issues that spur you to dedicate a song.
Let's hear more applause!
Following yesterday's serenade, Jenny's great love for Luciana,
a song from the Naples Festival from the 50's.
Maestro ! "Suspiranno na canzone".
Thousands of stars shine for me tonight,
the brightest of all the nights.
I'm carrying a mystery in my heart,
a blend of flowers, tears, and sighs.
Thousands of stars shine for me.
I want to walk through the alleys sighing a song with a mandolin.
The windows open
and the one who was sleeping deeply leans out.
Someone looks out and says: "Give it a rest ! "
"People are trying to sleep ! ".
Forgive me, my friends, I must let you know
that I 'm happy, that no one 's happier than me.
Friends, loud and clear I must tell you:
the most beautiful woman in the world said "yes" to me !
Let's hear it for the newlyweds !
Some more applause for Luciana's father, Don Renato.
I dedicate this song to your father and he dedicates it to you:
"Ninuccia", Ia rosa di Toledo.
They say there '5 a rose in Toledo
as beautiful as the sun.
Always fresh and sweet smelling,
so beautiful, I have to tell you about it.
I don 't want much, I 'm not looking for a kingdom,
but I 'd just like to smell that rose.
Let's hear it for Gennaro's parents!
The song is "Funicoli, Funicola".
Come on now, they need you, they do !
Hands together!
It goes and then it comes...
Pulled by cables.
It goes like the wind through the ravines, it climbs...
Let's go, let's go up above... Let's go, let's go up above...
Funicoli, funicola... Funicoli, funicola...
Let's go, let's go up above... Funicoli, funicola...
The groom !
Hands!
Pulled by cables.
It goes like the wind through the ravines, it climbs...
Let's go, let's go up above... Let's go, let's go up above...
Funicoli, funicola... Funicoli, funicola...
Let's go, let's go up above... Funicoli, funicola...
Mama!
Mama!
Mama, Assunta's calling you.
Assunta, did you see ?
Mama's back and won't ever leave us again.
The Gardenia show was a great Neapolitan melodrama.
There were many artists who performed great works,
like "Lacreme Napuletane", "I Figli", many beautiful songs.
There were artists from New York, and some singers from Italy.
I joined them,
as did Nunzio Gallo, Fiume, many Neapolitan artists.
But the Gardenia melodrama was famous,
they came from all over by bus!
We had over-the-top bad guys.
They were purposely selected for those roles.
Someone like me couldn't be a bad guy.
There was the bad guy who acted out this role.
People in the audience yelled: "Kill that bastard !".
Once there was a bad guy, while falling to his death
he pulled on a tablecloth with all the settings.
Someone from the audience said: "Kill him again !".
The dead guy: "How many times do you want me to die ?".
I cried tears of passion.
I wrote for you
this... song!
They'd save up for a week and come to the "2000",
they'd come and camp out, with the whole family.
They'd hide the small kids under their coats and would bring food.
Entire families would enter at noon and leave at 1:00 at night.
There were women nursing their babies... It was wonderful.
Answer !
Love ! My love !
Hiding in the alleyways at night I dance on top of a table.
I see the police and run away immediately
and if they catch me, they just let me go...
I was lucky.
I assimilated the roots, the colors the parents, the grandparents,
the life, the smells.
I can identify with many of the songs
that songwriters wrote for great women,
great artists, male and female.
I can identify with my character, with my emotions.
I'm the woman of "L'addio".
I experienced that moment described in "L'addio".
The man I loved was sick with TB,
I intensely experienced this story, as if I were the person in the song.
At the same time, I'm Catari from "Serenata Napulitana",
a different dimension, less inclined towards aggression.
because I have a vitality which covers up my shyness.
I am, without a doubt, the woman from this song.
I've felt these emotions since I was a child.
I'd hear these songs and cry, and my mother would hit me.
She said I was crazy, that I had to go to school and study.
But I always felt the intensity of these songs,
many were written for a "me", who existed previously.
Who wallo ws in sin has to keep a lover near
immediately after a discussion he has to know how to fight.
And every night he beats me !
He loves me to no end but doesn 't show it.
It's been three months since he '5 been sick.
What I spend on his cures !
But the doctor has fallen for me and treats him for free.
There's even a warrant for his arrest,
soon the police will come for him.
I told him: "Don't worry, I'm here for you !".
With my good manners I corrupt the captain.
I sell him my trade so he has time to flee.
For me the important thing is when he kisses me with carnality.
He makes me forget all the bad
he made me do.
A song is a mystery.
A vehicle for everything that belongs to us.
Through songs we can identify
and characterize ourselves.
We say the things we cannot say and do the thing we cannot do.
It's like an element God gave us
to release all the problems of our city,
to give light and joy to unhappy moments, dramatic moments.
Even death is an element of songs.
Tomorrow ? But I want to leave tonight !
Distant, no, I can't stand it anymore.
They say only the sea remains that it's the same as before,
that blue sea.
In '44, Naples was a pile of rubble.
The city was on its knees,
because material decay often became moral decay as well.
The first thing to be reborn was the music.
Between '44 and '45,
four extraordinary songs were born which described those times:
"Simmo 'e Napule, paisa",
who got and got and got, who gave and gave and gave,
forget the past, we're from Naples, paisa".
This illustrated the Neapolitan resilience.
Then "Dove Sta Zaza": the shock of having lost something,
like we all had, during the war,
and the unconscious happiness of refinding it, because this "Zaza",
a childish refrain, even for the Allied troops,
it felt like bread, home, children, town celebrations.
The other great song is "Munasterio 'e Santa Chiara",
this cry of pain from a Neapolitan who's far away,
who hears of the horrors that took place in his city
and is afraid to return.
Then there's "Tammurriata Nera".
"Tammurriata Nera" by E. A. Mario and Nicolardi, the last of the great.
They too, moved closer to the people's cause, the people's culture.
With the passing of time, "Tammurriata Nera" was transformed,
I transformed it, I rendered it modern.
We're talking about...
It took 10-15 years to arrive at this "Tammurriata Nera"
which is far removed from Nicolardi's song.
Apart from the text, ironic and inviting,
just think, this song was written in 1945,
when Naples had suffered not only from war,
but from daily violence against its women.
They were raped and after nine months black babies were born,
to whom Neapolitans gave traditional names:
Peppe, Ciro, Antonio.
Behind the happy facades of the people
were hidden rage, desperation, and anguish.
We are protected by these rites, by these "tammorre",
which are magic, our voodoo, things which have always belonged to us.
The skin of the drums is stretched before a fire,
and represents our energy, our vitality.
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
And one, two, three, four...
Madonna...
Madonna...
Run, Carmelina, run away!
Run, Carmelina, run away!
The war...
Madonna...
I am the war...
I am the war...
I am the cannon... the missile and ship,
I am the creatures,
the ravished land.
Because war is always the same, always the same.
I am the war, and I wanted it.
It was born in my heart, I thought of it.
I dreamt it.
We're afraid of love and sex, as I eat I see death.
I am the war,
the ravished land,
the missile and ship,
my blood,
I am the war, only me, always me...
Sometimes I don't understand what happens
and what we see is unbelievable...
A black baby was born,
his mother calls him Ciro, yes sir, she calls him Ciro.
Any which way you turn it,
if you call him Ciccio or Antonio, or Peppe or Ciro,
the baby is black, black, absolutely black.
Run, Carmelina, run away!
Run from the Moroccans, Carmelina !
Madonna! Madonna!
Madonna! Madonna!
The neighbors explain this fact,
these cases aren't rare, they see thousands of them.
Seems all it took was just one look
to get the woman knocked up.
Yes, just one look !
Oh, what a sight!
Go find who did it, who hit the target,
the baby is black, black, as black as black can be.
Carmelina ! Did you see what happened ?
What...
What happened ?
The fruit seller says: "Let's talk about it."
"Because if we reason, we can explain this fact."
"Where you plant wheat, wheat grows,
good or bad, it's still wheat that grows."
Go tell mama, go,
go, tell me too, tell us what happened
Ciccio, Antonio, Peppe or Ciro,
the baby is black, black. as black as black can be...
Yes, just one look !
Oh, what a sight!
Go find who did it, who hit the target,
the baby is black, black, as black as black can be.
The ladies of Capodichino make love to Moroccans,
the Moroccans charge forward and the ladies end up with big bellies.
American Express give me some dollars, hurry up,
or the police will show up and grope me all over.
Take off your pistol,
take off your pistolpackin',
pistolpackin' mama,
take off your pistol...
American Express give me some dollars, hurry up,
or the police will show up and grope me all over.
Take off your pistol, Take off your pistol...
Carmela, run from the Moroccans, run !
Neapolitan Heart
- You're doing great. - Better alone than in bad company.
Octopus, cuttlefish, squid, swordfish, starfish...
It's obvious, right ?
You can hear its blues.
We're in contact with Mayor Bassolino,
he now holds an important position.
I shook his hand.
The Neapolitan song's ingredients ?
Heart, a bit of brain, and balls.
Same genre, but we're independent.
Occasionally, I accompany him. Or vice versa.
I knew a few, the kind opera singers sing.
Salvatore's not one of them.
Neapolitan-Calabrian.
I must thank my producer, Mr. Jeff Lin, of Chicago.
The bride, at night, puts on rollers,
ready to make herself up.
I say something truly powerful,
and I get goose bumps all over.
"Take off your shirt", "No, mister, no!"
"If you don't, I'll leave !"
Not having touched Libero Bovio. I would've liked to.
When the Chinese found out it warded off illwill,
they began singing like crazy.
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