In these days a lot has been said and written about Giancarlo. I don’t really know what to add to the fact that he was a great artist, one of the greatest in Italian music, the author not only of lyrics, as most people have said, but also of music, songs which have left their mark on our lives. “Luglio”, “Montagne Verdi”,  “Se brusciasse la città”, “Gloria”, “Self control”, “Eternità”, “Si può dare di più” , “Gli uomini non cambiano” and so on, we might go on for hours and with each song associate an image which has certainly become part of our lives. We might look at the faces of the singers of his songs, the famous ones like Mina, Morandi, Vanoni, Celentano, the ones made famous by him like Ranieri, Tozzi, Raf, Masini, Baldi and so on.
We might think of the Squallor team, without knowing their faces,  and I think of Giancarlo’s voice and hear it again repeating obsessively in one of their very particular performances “Maremma maiala” (Tuscan profanity) whenever they said “Guatemala”, I think that was the title of the song. I don’t know if it was the only time, but I think it was one of the very few times he actually “sang” in some way.
I also think of a brief appearance by him in the film “Metello”, where Ranieri played Metello, and I don’t know why and how they managed to convince him. But Giancarlo also leaves memories in many of us which are somehow linked together and somehow all to do with music, but are also part of a more private sphere which just as accurately represents the character he was.
When I think of Giancarlo, I think of his house in Settignano, of Cingallegra, but also of the sea, and I associate with the house some people in particular who somehow satisfied his pleasure in food and dining. I mention just one of them, my mother. Pig’s liver “alla Nella”, Nella being my mother’s name, was Giancarlo’s super-favourite dish. And I also remember the huge quantity of mandarins he managed to get through while he talked or smoked.
Ah yes, smoking was Giancarlo’s great passion next to music. Smoking, the main cause of his illness, but also his workmate, companion to his talent. I think nobody who knew him ever saw him without a cigarette in his mouth or in his fingers, but this too was Giancarlo. He dedicated his life to work or rather music, achieving the results we all know, and in that very particular world he was almost an anomaly, he didn’t like the limelight or socialising or “being there” just for the sake of it.
 He was a shy, almost surly man. Even many of those who have loved his music and know his songs off by heart do not know him or his face, because he never appeared, never wanted to appear, even for example when one of his songs won at the Sanremo Festival. Once that song was over and done with, he started thinking about his next success, always out of the limelight.
Anyone who knew him certainly has his voice carved in their minds: hoarse from too many cigarettes but very particular, unmistakable even when he called his wife, my sister, for his breakfast or to play her a new piece……that “Gia-n-n-a” which was difficult to understand but unique in its expression and tone. Now in these moments our thoughts are running through a life which has ended but leaves a lot behind it.  To me it leaves the image of a unique, particular and great man.
I remember the day when Giovanni, or Gianni, my nephew was born. We were together at Villa Donatello and Giancarlo never stopped talking through all the hours of waiting and we smoked God knows how many cigarettes together, to the point where I felt ill. I was a smoker too then. I remember Giancarlo seated at the piano in his studio, I remember the music we could hear even from the garden, I remember the jokes and anecdotes he told incredibly well, with that special sense of humour which only Florentines can understand.
Yes, his Florentine-ness, which was part of him in a way which made him famous for that character which people called brusque, but which was instead just straightforward and spontaneous, a bit  argumentative like all Florentines. His Florentine-ness, which made him joyfully accept the request of the president of the Mediaeval Florentine Football Club, Massimo Mattei, to write their anthem, and in those words we can perceive his love of his town.
Yes, words - he had such a rich expressiveness, a mastery of language and an infinite vocabulary which made his songs immediately recognizable and attributable to his particular genius. As soon as a person dies they become good, clever and beautiful. Giancarlo was like all of us, a bit good, a bit beautiful, but there’s no doubt he was clever, very clever in his special field of work of course.
And not all of us manage to make such a mark in our chosen field, not even politicians, if I may say so. His family Gianna and Gianni, the people who accompanied him along the last tormented, difficult stretch of his life, his friends, are left with memories of him and with his music. Have a good trip, Maestro Bigazzi, “Rose rosse per te” from all of us.