Alessandria
It’s 1994 and we choose Italy as our holiday destination again, as we enjoyed our stay so much the previous year. We’re renting a bungalow at the ‘C’era una Volta’ campsite in Villanova d’Albenga, on the Italian Riviera. The local radio stations surprises me as much as they did the the year before.
With the revival of Italo, and Italo House music, it is a pleasure to listen to some stations. I always end up tuning in to Radio Liguria 103.
Before I’d left, Eddy Kreischer told me that he had completely drained Albenga a few years before. I am aware that I was very lucky last year. There is only a very small chance it will happen again.
In the centre of Albenga I find a record store which sells the latest Italo House. There I buy the tracks I hear on Radio Liguria 103. Like Rush To The Moon by Baffa and Electro Woman by Einstein Doctor Deejay.
Unfortunately, everytime we are too far away from Albenga, we cannot receive our favorite radio station anymore. And we leave this area a few times during the holiday, because we left Holland with two missions. The first one is to visit Claudio Accatino and Federico Rimonti in their Live Music Studio in Alessandria on behalf of I Venti D’Azzurro. The second mission is to retrieve records from the SELF and Disco Magic distribution offices in Milan for the Venti store.
Over the years I have heard many stories from Marcello about various studios. He met Roberto Zanetti in his own Casablanca Studio, Farina and Crivellente in the Time Records Studio, and so on… In the homes of our heroes, Marcello was treated like family. When he had told me these stories I’d hung on his every word.
This time I am going to experience it myself. We are welcomed into the soundproof studio under a building in a suburb of Alessandria. Once inside, I see that the doorbell is a big bright flashing light. Of course, a regular ding-dong would never be heard over the studio speakers. The two producers let me hear their latest products. It’s not my cup of tea. I am obviously ten years too late to be in an Italian studio. Despite the year, the housey music and the fact that they are not my greatest Italo heroes, it is fun to be here. After all, I do have records at home, produced by them. Even here in this studio.
Accatino points to a black Curver box with records in the corner of the room. ‘Take a look. Maybe there’s something you like.’ I have no idea how the items are priced. Hesitantly, I grab a couple of nice-looking records. Rome by Night by Dhuo and Dream by Steely ‘Chuck’ McDonald, and demos on white labels: Miko Mission (I can fly) and DJ Miko (Rhythm).
“How much?” I ask.
“No no, it’s yours,” Accatino replies.
I am happy with every item, but most of all with Steely ‘Chuck’ McDonald. On our way back, I tune into one good radio station after another. Everytime I find a great station, the radio signal starts getting weak after one good song. I love the liberal radio policy in Italy, but on the highway it´s horrible. Fortunately, just before we reach Albenga I find my favorite station of the last two weeks again: Radio Liguria 103.
San Siro
Today, three days after my visit to the studio, the highlight of our trip finally arrived. This date has been highlighted in my diary for a month now: September 11, 1994. Today we are going to Milan! I had read about it at home in the soccer magazine Voetbal International. On September 11, Internazionale is playing against AS Roma. Beautiful poster! I am planning to get tickets for this match in Milan.
I want to see the fabulous San Siro stadium, also known as Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, both inside and out. This is the Holy Ground where my club, Feyenoord Rotterdam, won the European Cup by beating Celtic Glasgow in 1970. This is where, not so long ago, Gullit, Rijkaard and Van Basten played in a fantastic AC Milan team with Maldini, Donadoni, Costacurta, Baresi and Ancelotti. The Golden Dutch Trio has now fallen apart. Ruud Gullit is back in Milan after a good season with Sampdoria, Marco van Basten has a chronically injured ankle, and Frank Rijkaard transferred to Ajax Amsterdam. It doesn’t matter that Gullit or Van Basten are not playing. Anyway, it is Inter playing at home this weekend, not AC Milan!
Whoever is playing, whoever the opponent is, it is all irrelevant. It is about this beautiful stadium. I have to see it. Today this dream will come true. I really must get tickets.
It is very hot at Piazza Duomo, but it’s cool inside the Duomo. I should not allow myself to make time for this cultural activity. I must get tickets! Tickets for the match!
Tonight Internazionale, with Dennis Bergkamp and Wim Jonk, is playing against AS Roma. Tickets are probably available at a tabaccheria, just like in the Netherlands. Despite the harsh sunlight in my face, my eyes follow the facades of the shops on Piazza Duomo. Virgin Records!
“I want to look in the Virgin Record Store,” I tell Natasha.
“I thought your highest priority was to get those football tickets.” It’s impossible to ignore a record store in Italy. That just can not happen. Should I explain it? Would she understand it? Even after all these years. Does she realize that whenever I drive our car through foreign cities my eyes focus on shop windows more than on the traffic lights or other road users? Does she even know how a football game compares to my passion for Italo? Probably not. In a daydream, Richard Branson shows me a door to a secret attic. He tells me the attic has not been visited in about eight years and that I may look around. I can take whatever I like. There is one condition though: I have to do it tonight. I see the racks filled with vinyl. Thousands of 12″-singles. In the same daydream, my wife asks me if I would rather see the match. The match? I couldn’t care less about the match!
“We still have enough time,” I reply, “Virgin probably doesn’t sell vinyl anymore. This won’t take long.”
Richard Branson is not here. There is no door that leads a secret attic either. But I find a box with new releases on vinyl. I buy two records: Je Suis Lulu by Karl featuring Linda, and Think About The Way by Ice MC. I also buy the latest CD by the Rolling Stones: Voodoo Lounge. I’ve had a soft spot for the London band ever since I had seen them in concert at the Feyenoord stadium when I was sixteen; my brother had bought me tickets for my birthday. While I was waiting to pay for the records, I thought about the daydream again. I know where this dream is coming from. We are in the centre of Milan, the city where the distribution offices of the Italian record labels are located. There have to be record stores here, or people who have dusty attics, or basements full of vinyl, I’m sure of it. I also have an IKEA rack with 1,600 12″-singles back in the Netherlands. And in Dutch record stores and record fairs I often find Italo records. Admittedly, Piazza Duomo is not the most obvious location for an undiscovered record store.
With the Virgin Store bag under my arm, I get back to the main goal of today. Not every tobacconist sells football tickets. After trying a few places, I find out that I have to look for a particular logo on the shop window. Something with “Calcio”, I am told. The English of most shopkeepers is as bad as my Italian. But in the fourth tabaccheria I enter, it’s jackpot! Everything indicates that football tickets are sold here. But are there still tickets for tonight? Or is the match sold out?
“Biglietti Calcio?” I ask in my best Italian, “per Internazionale, stasera?”
“Si,” a fat man behind a curtain of magazines and shirts says, “quanto?”
“Two please … eh … due.”
Once outside, with the two tickets in my wallet, I have a huge smile on my face. It worked! In about five hours I will be sitting in the sanctuary. Mission accomplished.
“We have to get to the car before the game, because of the a bag of records. But we have plenty of time. Maybe we can find a restaurant near the stadium.”
There is no pressure anymore. We walk slowly through a warm Milan, and after an hour we are on an escalator to take a subway to the car. On the escalator I see a shop window getting closer and closer. It’s a record store! I recognize it from the advertising posters. Yes! But soon the euphoria turns to disappointment. The store is dark. Shit! Closed. What idiot goes to Milan on a Sunday? I look into the shop through the window. In the dark I discern boxes containing vinyl. Lots of boxes of vinyl. I hardly see any CDs, it’s mostly vinyl. This sucks! Who knows what records could be in here? Do I want to know? The wet dream of every vinyl sleuth is to find a record store. Finding a closed one is a nightmare.
“Do you have a pen?” I ask.
“Yes,” my wife says, while her hand disappears into her purse. On the back of the receipt from Virgin I start to write.
“What are you doing?” Natasha asks.
“I’m writing down the name of this subway station. To be sure. For next Wednesday … “
“But I didn’t think we were coming to the centre next Wednesday?” she interrupts me. Wednesday is the day before we leave. Eddy Kreischer asked me to combine my holiday plans to Italy, with picking up some orders for the Venti store. Eddy frequently asks visitors to Italy to do so. It saves large sums of money in transport. Of course I agreed to it. First to help Eddy, but also because I want to see the distribution center. As these distributors are on the outskirts of Milan, the day in the centre was planned for today and not for next Wednesday.
I decide not to answer. I just write down the name of the subway station and tuck the receipt away into the bag. I know she is right. If we have to pick up Eddy’s orders and also return to this store on Wednesday, it’s going to be a full day’s program. But shit, there is vinyl here! And who knows how many rare Italo records? Am I being selfish? Yeah, I probably am. On the other hand,we are also going to the beach. I do that for her, because I don’t like the beach. To visit a different city every day, hunting for vinyl, the black gold, that would be a holiday! But that is not what I do. I go to the beach with her, as she goes to San Siro and to the record stores with me. The holiday balanced.
I give the pen back to Natasha and unfold my map of Milan to see how far the Via Mecenate, where Disco Magic is located, is from this subway station. We’ll see on Wednesday, I think to myself.
During the 215 kilometer back to Albenga, an hour after the game, I play cassettes Peet Need recorded for me. Just before Albenga I tune in to Radio Liguria 103 and to my surprise I hear Only You by Savage. On my bucket list (the things you should do before you die) I check off ”watch a football match at the San Siro“. Inter lost 0-1 to AS Roma. Bergkamp and Jonk were unnoticable. Big freaking deal! I was there. Check!