At the start of last summer, a friend introduced me to the mellifluous music of the Italian singer-poet, Bruno Lauzi. I was instantly captivated by his commanding voice, emotive lyrics and stylistic versatility. The inclusion of Lauzi in my music library inspired a deeper inquiry into the catalogue of popular Italian music in the 50s, 60s and 70s.
While going through the salient singers and songs of those decades, I discovered the catalogue of a former bandmate of Lauzi’s called Luigi Tenco. His impassioned performances, laconic lyrics and brooding demeanour on stage turned this shy and sincere songwriter into a romantic icon.
But in 1967, before his 29th birthday, Tenco’s astronomical rise was tragically ended by his mysterious and premature death. The inconclusive circumstances of his supposed suicide still divides his friends, contemporaries and fans to this day, with many asserting that the beloved artist was actually murdered.
Even Tenco’s birth was an enigmatic event. Sources close to the family claim that he was possibly fathered by the sixteen-year-old son of a wealthy family for whom Luigi’s mother worked as a maid. His childhood was spent moving from town to town with his mother and brother until they settled in Genoa in the 50s, where they managed a wine shop. While at school in Genoa, he met and befriended Lauzi, and the two formed a band with some fellow classmates. I’m sure neither knew that they were both destined to be amongst the most celebrated singers of their generation.
Towards the end of his teens, Tenco started to record songs under pseudonyms and received some critical praise. Emboldened by his early success, by his early twenties Tenco was releasing albums under his own name and began to generate the attention his talents were due. When I first listened to Tenco’s music, I was surprised how young he was when he died.
His world-weary voice evinces a haunted soul that should have belonged to a person far older than him. Conspiracy theorists have leapt at Tenco’s peculiar reasoning and many maintain that his tragic death was more likely murder than suicide.
By 1967, Tenco had released three albums and was famed throughout Italy. Despite his initial reluctance, Tenco’s management insisted that he participate in the popular music contest in Sanremo. He sang a duet with his lover, the singer Dalida (who was also to commit suicide some years later).
On 27 January, after hearing that his submission to the contest had been eliminated, Luigi Tenco allegedly shot himself with a pistol to protest the decision. The note found in his hotel room reads: “I cared for the Italian public, and I dedicated in vain five years of my life to them. I’m doing this not because I’m tired of life (I’m not) but as a gesture of dissent against the public who chose Io tu e le rose for the final night and against the commission that selected La rivoluzione. I hope this will clear somebody’s head.”
This egregious response to an ultimately unimportant disappointment begs the question – was his failure at the contest the true reason for his suicide? Others have ventured further in their reappraisal of his perplexing demise, contending that foul play must have been at work.
Prominent figures in the Italian investigative press have stated that the real cause of Tenco’s death was “collective murder”. However, all proceeding theories have yet to gain any lasting official traction. Nonetheless, in 2006, Tenco’s body was exhumed for examination after courts revealed that no autopsy had been conducted on the corpse and no calligraphic assessment had been performed of the purported suicide note.
This latest evaluation reaffirmed the official belief that Tenco did commit suicide, though few can explain exactly why. His own note is so unconvincing that conspiracy theories will likely abound for as long as he is remembered.