I remember the first time I heard his voice. I was sitting in the car with my summer romance somewhere in southern Italy. We had driven to a forest next to the sea, revelling in that  euphoric teenage anticipation. As we parked among the pine trees, my fling turned on the  radio. The air was instantly caramelised by the music which was fed through the speakers–Fabrizio De André’s “Il Pescatore”, my first taste of his brilliance… 

All’ombra dell’ultimo sole 

s’era assopito un pescatore 

e aveva un solco lungo il viso 

come una specie di sorriso. 

(In the shadow of the last rays of sun 

a fisherman was dozing off, 

and he had a groove along his brow 

which almost seemed like a smile.)