potrebbe essere sera *

Italian song | Electronic music cover by Style Disorder

* For those who do not know, the music is by Lucio Battisti and the lyrics by Pasquale Panella.

The collaboration between the two outstanding artists, between 1986 and 1994, produced five albums, in my opinion among the best ever in Italian music, although little known and much criticized (negatively) by the solons of the time.

Panella’s exceptional, surreal poetics, already expressed by Enzo Carella and other performers, in the five albums met Battisti’s voice and music, finally free from the dictates of the music industry and Mogol’s national-popular narrative.

In this remake of“Potrebbe Essere Sera,” taken from the central“La Sposa Occidentale” (1990), only the sound and voice are mine – the lyrics of the song follow the video.

It could be evening
It could be an alabastrine evening
With its veins and a serpentine
Slit to pass from evening to night
With our little girl

Purple the color of evening
The hour in which everything remains
Not so much as it was, but as it will be

Postponed the splinters
Shatter like stained glass
The shutters
As if they should never recover
To rise again, to reopen tomorrow

And the avenues go on in two rows
Out of pure politeness, so out of courtesy
It doesn’t end the way
Despite having several
Reasons to stop
Look for the reflective adjectives
Shattering and shining

But with politeness and with courtesy
There is to be careful among the avenues and on the way
In the hour when it comes true
Only the complexion of evening

Purple pained, the girl is alone
To her great relief to enjoy with me
She allows herself a tail, twirled around
If she puts it on, levers it
It may be evening

The leaves do their homework on the branches
The budgets, the reckoning

Reading with brown eyes
It may be evening

And you might laughingly say
“I have no change, winter remains
Nor of springs, I really don’t have any
And I can’t change, sorry
Neither autumn nor summer.”

Purple, plump the girl is alone
She runs over and over the pink tongue
Over the question of her exquisite lip

And how she resists, but how she resists
To the optimistic lament of a happiness
She allows herself a refusal with her chin raised
More beautiful more haughty
It could be evening

As one who in sleep would say such a sentence
Day after day, such a noise
To dissolve to fade a sentence like this
“It is not as it is, it is not as it was”

You yield to the sweet and purple insistence
Following the slope of evening