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Non rappresento che me stesso perchè questo sono, se sbaglio mi perdono, prima di essere MC sii uomo mi ripeto, fa 1000 passi indietro e il risultato è che non mi sento per niente arrivato, anzi sto bene anche a cibarmi degli avanzi dei padroni sazi e mi piglio spazi se me li concedono, sennò me li lascio fottere: detesto combattere, che vuoi farci? E' carattere! Sbattere testa contro le porte è il mio forte, sono il gallo da spennare per chi bara alle carte, giullare di corte messo a morte e poi salvato da una chance; lascerei la musica ma sta stronza mi fa le avances e non resisto, mi do in pasto alla lingua che mastico, investo in testi che vesto di stracci e mi riduco al lastrico, nella testa un mistico richiamo, poema indiano che mi prende per mano e mi dice: "Andiamo!" Se non rispondono al tuo appello, cammina solo, cammina solo. Detesto l'odio ma l'ho visto venir fuori dagli occhi di alcuni interlocutori, hanno motivi loro e i loro sguardi sono come lastre di ghiaccio, si scioglieranno a poco a poco al fuoco di ciò che faccio. Se il rancore resta onestamente non mi resta niente da fare che alzare i tacchi e andare, menare, via, cullarmi nel tepore di ogni mano che ha stretto la mia, avere Dio come terapia: sarà la miopia ma faccio fatica a inquadrare la retta via, voglio te per compagnia, portami in balia della gente, dove c'è amore, lì sarò presente anch'io. Ti cedo il posto mio: non è per vincere che vivo ma per ardere, perciò se dovrò perdere lasciatemi perdere e avrò perso, cosciente che non sono né peggiore né migliore di nessuno finchè sarò diverso. Se non rispondono al tuo appello, cammina solo, cammina solo. Se mi ritrovo sull'incudine, sotto un martello di solitudine, colpo su colpo come un polpo sullo scoglio muoio, ma ci farò l'abitudine. Se non lo sai cominciai per scherzo, come un bimbo immobile nell'automobile con le mani sullo sterzo verso nuovi orizzonti, sopra e sotto i ponti, davanti a piatti pronti, pagato con assegni fatti di saldi e sconti. Tra re, regine e fanti cercai clemenza, mò non vado in vacanza prima di aver lasciato una testimonianza di ciò che sono, coi miei tanti nomi, le contraddizioni; appartengo ad una strana scena: quella degli esseri umani. Credo ai meriti che conquisto, credo in Cristo perchè l'ho visto, credo al rischio dell'incomprensione, credo nelle persone, nella consolazione, nella mia devozione, in ogni azione pacifica: detesto l'astio che ramifica, la cassa che lo amplifica, canto il mio Magnificat come un pazzo a mare e monti, ignoranti e colti, sperando che qualcuno ascolti. Se non rispondono al tuo appello, cammina solo, cammina solo. Cammina solo © 2000 Caparezza Some comments from Caparezza on "Cammina solo": "In the lyric, I wrote several references to the Mushroom Jam and my refusal of combat as a means of self-improvement. I wrote that for these rappers I'm just a rooster to pluck, . . . that I'm a jester robbed by the courtiers and saved by music . . . I invested all my money in equipment to make base tracks so rough that they seemed tattered on my lyrics. For the chorus, I cited a repeated phrase from Gandhi during his struggle for the independence of India . . . If I'm not accepted for who I am, for sure I won't pretend something else so they accept me, instead I'll go away. I'll frequent only environments where you don't put your art form into competition like an athletic race, because I'm not interested in being the best, I'm interested in being myself." |
I don’t represent anyone but me because this I am, if I mess up I pardon myself. Before being an MC, be a man, I repeat myself, take a thousand steps backward and the result is that I don’t feel in the least like I’ve arrived. Indeed, I’m fine even feeding on the leftovers of the sated bosses, and I grab spaces if they grant them to me. If not, I’ll let them fuck me: I detest fighting, what do you wanna do? It’s character! Knocking my head against doors is my specialty, I’m the rooster to pluck for whoever cheats at cards, court jester put to death and then saved by a chance; I would leave music but this bitch comes on to me and I don’t resist, I feed myself to the language I chew, I invest in texts that I dress in rags, and I take myself to the cleaners, in my head I recall a mystic, Indian poem that takes me by the hand and tells me: “Let’s go!” If they don’t respond to your appeal, walk alone, walk alone. I detest the hatred but I saw it coming out of the eyes of some interlocutors - they have their motives, and their glances are like sheets of ice, they dissolve little by little in the fire of what I make. If the rancor remains, honestly there’s nothing left for me to do but show my heels and go, kick some ass, scram, cradle myself in the warmth of every hand that clasped mine, have God as therapy: it may be myopia but I work hard to frame the right road, I want you for company, bring me to the mercy of the people, where there’s love, there I too will be present. I’ll cede to you my place: it’s not to win that I live, but to blaze, so if I have to lose, let me lose and I will have lost, knowing that I’m neither worse nor better than anyone as long as I am different. If they don’t respond to your appeal, walk alone, walk alone. If I find myself on the anvil under a hammer of solitude, blow upon blow like an octopus on the rocks I die, but I’ll get used to it. If you don’t know it, I started in jest, like a child immobile in the automobile with hands on the steering wheel towards new horizons, over and under bridges, in front of prepared meals, paid by checks made of sales and discounts. Among kings, queens, and infantry I searched for clemency, now I don’t go on vacation before having left a testimony of what are, along with my many names, the contradictions; I belong to a strange scene: that of the human beings. I believe in the merits that I conquer, I believe in Christ because I’ve seen him, I believe in the risk of incomprehension, I believe in the people, in the consolations, in my devotion, in every peaceful action: I detest the malice that branches out, the cash register that amplifies it, I sing my Magnificat like a madman to sea and to mountains, the ignorant and the educated, hoping someone listens. If they don’t respond to your appeal, walk alone, walk alone. English translation © 2017 Dennis Criteser Michele Salvemini began his musical career in 1995 as Mikimix, trying unsuccessfully to break into Italy's pop mainstream as a rap artist. From 1998 to 2000 he reworked his image and his music at home in his garage, and ?! presented the fruits of his labors, unveiled under his new nome d'arte - Caparezza, which means "curly head" in his local Molfetta dialect. |
I began exploring Italian popular songs as part of learning Italian. Here are my translations for some of my favorite "canzoni" by Italian singers, songwriters, and bands whose work I admire. It's a work in progress that can serve as a curated introduction to Italian popular music, with an emphasis on the 1950s through the 1990s. If you speak Italian, send me a message if you see lyrics I've misunderstood.
