Wrap yourself up, it's cold, I'll give you my jacket. It seems Damiano, aka EroCaddeo, wrote it specifically for yesterday evening at the Opera Music Forum at the Cagliari Fair, when the thermometer in the city was ten degrees Celsius (50 degrees Fahrenheit), and stepping out for his live show, organized by the L'Unione Sarda Group, was an act of faith. And with that jacket came a roar and a hug, strong, sincere, from the crowd, when he took the stage ten minutes before 11 p.m. Before him, singer Donato Cherchi and the warm-up by Radiolina with DJ Manuel Cozzolino and Ruido.
Damiano had started out on a stage, always with Radiolina: the Contest, a launching pad for emerging talent, where he also met his current team. He started from afar. He searched for words and music, delving into personal stories, making them universal. Then he landed on "X Factor." Yesterday, under different lights, he rediscovered the island that supported him. A return that feels like home and gratitude, in a special event filled with anticipation. The response from the crowd—the packed house—revealed a bond built over these months.
"We're here, we have all the time in the world," were his first words. The simple and spontaneous dialogue with the audience lasted throughout the live show. The tempo expanded. Then came the songs: "Parlo ancora di te" (I still talk about you), "Metti che domani te ne vai" (Metti that tomorrow you're gone). The lyrics on the giant screen, the crisp white T-shirts, and more signs among parents, children, and many, many young people. "Marry me," "I would like you as a brother," "You're my Christmas present." "Gravità zero" arrived, followed by covers of Battiato's "La cura" and Battisti's "E penso a te," leading to the resounding successes "Punto" and "No potho reposare."
There was a piece of his story all around him. His mother, his loved ones, his friends before the spotlight. And then so many who knew him through "Luglio." The climax, that simple and direct phrase, "You'll be like Cagliari after seven...", became more than a musical fragment for a reel: an emotional crossroads, one of those that touch the heart with their fingers.
Damiano isn't just a phrase. And everyone saw and heard him, even at the Opera. His words create points of contact, shared worlds: the journey, the struggle, the pain of absence and distance, the overwhelming love and the promise. "But what does it matter to us," he recalls with the boldness of someone who isn't thirty, of someone who is enjoying the moment, knowing—as he said months ago, also on these pages—that everything lies in the work and love you put into it. "We kept going because that's the right thing to do." The road is long, but he knows he's not afraid, even more so after this embrace.
Nicola Montisci