1970s. A guitar bought with the last spare coins. Worn-out cassette tapes. A courtyard filled with endless afternoons where you learned to face life and the glances of girls. That's where it all began: rehearsals in a small practice room, calluses on the fingers, riffs picked up by ear, and the first concert - in a girls' boarding school run by nuns.
This is a book that plays: fast rhythm, clean words, stories of stage, life, and love. Pol Paxx tells the rise of a small-town musician who never chased glory but the truth inside every song. There's the band, the first bass, nights in the van, bar fights, and the intimacy of small things - with her voice answering the phone and holding together the messiest days.
Military service was the detour that broke the familiar road: the New Year's Eve ball played in tuxedo, the major-label contract, the tours on free radio, the dreams and hopes; and finally the stage that proved all the sweat had a reason.
A memoir that's direct, full of energy, with details that stick in your mind - Sicily, fairground rides, vinyl records, long hair and flared pants, the electric baptism, Milan between fog and opportunity, the rise and the roots. And for those who believe that a song can change the course of a life - just past the bend, though.