twelve o’clock, 19 March 2021 – 20:25
Victim of the virus, the animator of the extra-community Napoli group disappears at 65. Amarcord of the writer friend
of Nino Leone
What a sad tammurriata in Pomigliano d’Arco. What sad castanets did viral Evil ring out! The pandemic monster has devoured Pasquale Terracciano, the comedian and multifaceted animator of the musical group “Naples extra-community”, our big and out-of-this-world puppet, the companion of popular joys. Here, in this creative square that is self-gifted a cultural Trojan horse, stuffed with non-worker peasants and non-rural workers, it was simply “Pascale Pisstto”, from the nickname of his father, also of considerable size and sympathy, and so remains in the memory .
Since the 1970s, like all the young people from Pomigliano Alfasud, he had grown up in the Zezi Worker Group; the primeval one, the one brought up to spontaneistic struggles and disproportionate intellectual projects, to songs and searches in cellars and farms, addicted to the comings and goings from student collectives, to the passing protagonists as travelers of the rapid 905 Milan / Naples or as distributors of flyers in a procession of students or factory workers. Stuff that if we had been adopted by the French grandeur we would certainly have been given the counter-name “Ceux l de la Zezarie”. And “the Land of Zezi” was the memorable invention of that generation and Pasquale was its unmatched Pullecenlla, and that will remain. Not the mask of the city theaters, not the Neapolitan bulimic of the extraordinary Antonio Petito, but the other, ancestor and ancient great-uncle, the peasant and popular one: Signure mieie, mind that vaco adderto Don Nicola, m’appzo e caco … and how much fiti !; the lazy and foul-mouthed malopillo from Campania, Atellano or Acerra, … and from Acerra he came, cu stu my turcetro, for fun to all these beautiful signures !; our Pazziarillo, wandering and recognizable auctioneer: Watch out, fight him … se n ‘jito Pissetto! but without having fun. This time.
No, he did not make us laugh, his tiptoe exit, although it was difficult to escape his exuberance. I was born a character, like many of that group, Marcello Colasurdo, Matteo D’Onofrio, Tonino Stocco, Angelo De Falco, Sciasci, Giginillo De Falco and other two thousand not mentioned, whose forgiveness is invoked; people destined to be protagonists and never appeared, always in the midst and in front of everyone, tangible reverberations of Gascon struzi and dandies outlined by the nibs of Collot or by the portrait, beautiful and painted, of Vardiello, as thought by Giambattista Basile: Here I am leaving you , my beautiful Naples! Who knows if it will be possible for me to see more bricks of sugar and walls of royal paste, where the stones are of manna, the beams of cannamele, the doors and windows of puff pastry. … Goodbye parsnips and soft leaves, goodbye zppole and milacci; goodbye, cabbage and tarantello; goodbye caionze and a hundred daughters; farewell, spicy and ingratiate! … I’m leaving and I will remain a widower of married pots; eviction from this beautiful farmhouse, my broccoli, I leave you behind !.
In the same way Pasquale left behind Pomigliano, an atypical farmhouse where people grew up with drums, sticks, brushes, bongos, drums and tammorre, and the rolls of some virtuosos who drilled their eardrums without the clangs of traffic in the near future, or parading entire days behind Castiello’s wagons still wearing short trousers and wide-open mouths, packed faces, luver eyes, impervious bodies, anchovy arms and thighs, hands for drums, fingers for guitars, lent and never returned – not out of greed but out of passion – , obeying the ethics of those who never knew the superfluous, seconding instead for an unaware attitude the precepts of Professor Aristotle: “Leave it to those who have talent”.
This is because what few know and little is heard of this industrial farmhouse in the Nolan plain that here we study and go to school not for the piece of paper but to graduate in the future, and he knew how to do it brilliantly, remaining the son of his father at his manner and father of children, Carmine and Salvatore, guitarist and flutist, educated graduates, who were able to transfer into the Flobert, and other upcoming popular music, the tubal tremors of the Anzalone, brothers too, and the airy trills of Debussy with their latest almost family-run formation. A few weeks ago, he wanted me to preview newly recorded music, stuff from mature artists who know how to transform the inexperienced experiments of yesteryear into amazing masterpieces.
A hug to Lina, his wife, shy musician, crying and knowing, with Zezi Gruppo Operaio, that everyone and not only Pomigliano lose a great interpreter of a popular sentiment that he shared with many and throughout his life giving joy and happiness in a social antagonism that is always too difficult with the music and popular theater of the last of this land … Thanks ‘Piss’, stay in our hearts !.
March 19, 2021 | 20:25