Demetrio Stratos e i Ribelli
After the summer of 1966, the group went through a period of crisis. We decided to look for a new voice. We had the name of a guy from Vicenza, Bruno Canzian, but we arrived too late.
Celentano had taken me to the Santa Tecla, one of the most important clubs in Milan, for the first time; that night Chet Baker played, and in ’59 we had rehearsed there before the shows in Ravizza Park.
For some time, it had been the best venue for beat groups. One evening, with Pocaluce and Natale, we went exploring. As we went down stairs of the Tecla, we could hear the opening bars of Give Me Some Loving. In the shadows, behind the Vox organ, was a kid singing extraordinarily well. I’d never heard a voice like this before. At the end of the first set, the musicians went to the bar.
“Who’s the singer?”
“It’s him? said the barman.
He had a navy blue English college jacket, and was in front of me.
“I’m sorry, are you English?”
“Oh no, I’m Italian … let’s say that!”
“But was it you singing?”
“Yes.”
“You’re really good!”
“Thanks. Thanks… What’s your name?”
“I’m Gianni. That’s Natale. This is Giorgio, called Pocaluce. We’re the Ribelli.”
“You’re the Ribelli! I know you. . . ”
“Listen, you’re really good. I’m also speaking on behalf of the others. Do you want to join our group? We’re looking for a singer who also plays the organ, like you.”
“Great! I’d like that. Listen, I’m going to drink something and start playing again. Stay and listen to me some more. We’ll talk later, okay?”
He had a Lombard accent with something of Emilia. He had sat down behind the organ with his trio and started singing again. After a few pieces we were euphoric. We couldn’t take our eyes off him. He had an impressive power.
At the end of the second half hour, he came over to us at the bar.
“Guys, if you haven’t changed your minds, I’ll come!”
We were so happy that we started planning the new repertoire that same night, discovering that we had the same musical tastes. He also loved Tamla Motown and with his voice we could do everything.
“My name’s Demetrio.”
“But… aren’t you Italian?”
“No, no, I speak Italian really well. I have a girlfriend from Salsomaggiore. I live here in Italy. I study architecture but I’m Greek, born in Alexandria, Egypt. My life is a bit of a mess. I also studied in England.”
At the Santa Tecla it was like waking up from a dream and discovering that it was all true.
“Then it’s agreed, Demetrio, from now on you’re with the Ribelli!”
We rehearsed at Ezio Sancrotti’s in a former gym on Viale Brenta. There was immediately a great feeling between us. A musical understanding was immediately created. We played enthusiastically. We worked well together. Demetrio had gentle ways and a joyful character; he almost always sang without a microphone, managing to be heard by all of us in the rehearsal room. In a piece by the Four Tops, he was so good that with my eyes closed, I jammed for a bit like a black Tamla Motown musician!
He introduced us to Daniela, his girlfriend. They were both studying at the Faculty of Architecture in Milan.
With the arrival of Demetrio and his organ, we discovered new sounds and creative stimuli. The Ribelli found their identity in Demetrio’s voice.
The day he bought the Hammond C3 at the Ricordi shop I was with him, in that unbridled joy. It was paid for in ten installments of fifty thousand lire a month, and signed by him.
The first time with the Hammond was in a venue on an upper floor. It weighed a ton. We all helped push it up that narrow staircase, careful not to scratch it and at the same time, save our fingers!
With all the enthusiasm possible, we introduced Demetrio to Adriano. Now he was officially in the Clan.
Excerpt from: Dall’Aglio, Gianni – Batti un colpo. Due metri quadrati di paradiso – San Pietro in Cariano, Gabrielli, 2014, pp. 116-118.