Paolo Enrico Archetti Maestri: recensione di Amorabilia

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by Luca Paisiello – rockshock.it

The singer and guitarist of Yo Yo Mundi makes his solo debut. Amorabilia by Paolo Enrico Archetti Maestri is a testament to the sensitivity of an artist who is always positive and who, in recent years, has encouraged people to fight for their dreams.

It seems a little strange to describe Paolo Enrico Archetti Maestri as a “newcomer,” given that after 35 years of recording and performing with Yo Yo Mundi, he is now making his solo debut with his first release, Amorabilia. Singer, guitarist, and founder of the famous band from Acqui Terme, Paolo has been writing since he was the 8-year-old boy pictured on the cover and has composed 11 songs combining stories linked by memories and the wonder of rediscovering authentic beauty.

It is an album that does not stray at all from the melodies we have heard on Yo Yo Mundi’s albums, who have not broken up at all and here the band members participate in some sessions on this album, such as on the radiant L’Estate in Piscina. Many songs should have ended up on their next studio album, but the band from Monferrato intends to experiment with new sounds and so Paolo wanted to make some of those songs his own.

Yo Yo Mundi, in an expanded line-up with Michele Pracca on cello, Luca Garino on trumpet, Maurizio Castagna on tenor sax and Donatella Figus on backing vocals, accompany Paolo on I Cani Sognano Di Noi, a lovely song about freedom and ‘a thousand corners to smell, a hundred chains to break’. La Bambina che Sognava Maradona (The Girl Who Dreamed of Maradona) stems from the Piedmontese artist’s connection not only with soccer, already recounted in some of his band’s songs, but also with his half-Neapolitan origins on his mother’s side. It is a cheerful and dreamy song, with Paolo Bonfanti on guitar, inviting us to let ourselves be carried away by the current of imagination: “A kick to life and one to magic.”

Archetti Maestri masters a style of writing made up of metaphors, memories, and judgments expressed with class, always with the elegance of De Andrè, De Gregori, his friend Fossati, and that great generation of songwriters, poets, and intellectuals capable of shaking consciences. This can be seen in songs such as La canzone delle distanze (The Song of Distances) or the beautiful L’Amore Trova Sempre la Sua Strada (Love Always Finds Its Way), songs full of feeling and a great ability to penetrate through delicate melodies, sometimes with the acoustic guitar in the foreground, sometimes with a piano and a host of non-electric instruments, but all exuding energy with refinement.

He also enjoys playing not only with the soft Central American rhythms in Curcuma e zenzero (Turmeric and Ginger), but also simply listing the foods used to flavor dishes, turning them into a fun song. There is also the tragic and touching memory in the dialogue between Iaio and Fausto, written for a play dedicated to the memory of the two young men brutally murdered in 1978 outside the Leoncavallo Social Center in Milan. “A terrible story of hatred, indifference, violence, and deviance that cannot and must not be forgotten,” writes Paolo.

We also find a couple of songs already donated to two artists: Stelle Nere for C.F.F. and Nomade Venerabile, a paratheatrical rock group from Gioia del Colle, and L’Ennesima Canzone sul Tempo given to the Milanese duo Cri + Sara Fou. This song, written at the time in collaboration with Cristian Soldi, features vocal accompaniment by Cecilia Lasagno in this version, but it is not only her harp that can be heard: Cristian himself plays classical guitar, Paolo plays the charango, while the late Alan Brunetta plays the glockenspiel and… even a chandelier.

Il cigno e la rosa celebrates the hard work “of crickets, woodworms, and ants, all this small life, in the paradise of toil, which from morning to night unscrews the screws of time gone by and gives us the spring we have so longed for.” A metaphor for tireless nature, very similar to the lives of the rest of us, who manage to embrace each other and enjoy memories together after tiring days spent surviving and doing our best. Enrico Pesce is on piano, with arrangements by Lucio Costantinni and the ever-present YoYo Andrea Cavalieri on bass.

Baionetta, one of the four songs performed with Susanna Roncallo on guitar and Simona Colonna on cello, is a sweet and melancholic anti-war fairy tale inspired by Paolo’s maternal grandfather. It tells the story of a soldier stabbed by the enemy who saw his heart escape from his mouth. A doctor and his nurse watch helplessly as life ebbs away, but as the vital organ escapes, a word remains on the soldier’s lips, which, wet with the tears of the two healthcare workers, causes the heart and the word to explode in a song of love.

Some writings by Paolo Enrico Archetti Maestri accompany the booklet attached to the disc, and the mixes are by Dario Mecca Aleina, created using Dolby Atmos immersive technology, which can only be heard with suitable equipment and certain types of headphones capable of creating a three-dimensional sound environment. Amorabilia is a testament to the sensitivity of an artist who has always been positive and who, in recent years, has encouraged people to fight for a dream, for an ideal, for a world that may not be perfect, but is better.

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Paolo Archetti Maestri – Amorabilia (Nota, 2024)

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by Marco Sonaglia – blogfoolk.com

“Amorabilia” is the first solo album by Paolo Archetti Maestri, singer, guitarist, and founder of Yo Yo Mundi. It is not just an album, but also a book that defines, expresses, and preserves eleven songs and eleven poetic compositions, as if they were two soccer teams competing on the field of creativity and imagination. The album opens with “I cani sognano di noi” (“Dogs dream of us and we dream of falling, we have a thousand stars in the puddles of our hearts and a hundred moons to bark at”) with the stubborn strings arranged by Lucio Costantinni and the double vocals of Donatella Figus. “La bimba che sognava Maradona” (“A kick to life and one to magic, son of talent ignites volcanoes and waves, song becomes wind, genius, madness, the madness that loves you, the darkness that hides”) is marked by Luca Garino’s trumpet, Maurizio Castagna’s saxophone, and Paolo Bonfanti’s electric guitar. It continues with the delicate and intense “Il cigno e La Rosa” (“Listen to the breath of the swan and the cry of the rose, the fog that envelops the forest when it rests, watch the river glide slowly over the thighs of the plain, if the sickle mixes pain, let the hammer nail fear”) cradled by the piano and cello, and “L’ennesima canzone sul tempo” (“Time that inclines the planets and the silent run of the antelopes, adjust the wing of my song, turn the propeller of the wind, move the propeller in the wind”), written with Cristian Soldi and sung together with Cecilia Lasagno, who also plays the harp. Simona Colonna’s cello and voice intertwine with acoustic guitar arpeggios in “Baionetta” (“A song is born softly, the word and the heart, slowly they make love, a song is born softly, the heart and the word, finally they are one”). “L’amore trova sempre la sua strada” (“Love always finds its way”) (“The day tears the eyes from the moon, rags are lost in the cough of the wind, lick my hand, calm my torment, Euripides stops, sniffs and barks”) has a backdrop of strings, piano, and vocals by Marialuisa Ferraro, Daniele Gennaro, and Alice Cavalieri. Maestri’s militant anti-fascism can be seen in “Iaio e Fausto” (“Fallen at the dawn of spring, I slap them in the dark, black tarantula, two twin flowers lost in the shadows, the hand that kills, the voice that overshadows, dying young does not make you grow old, but dying murdered does not make you forget, Iaio see you soon, Fausto we’ll be in touch: Two tears falling slowly, slowly”) where we find Simona Colonna and Susanna Roncallo (vocals and guitar). “Estate in piscina” (“May summer in the pool bring all this happiness, leaving a sprinkling of stars on our skin, may summer end its run here at the bottom of this pool like a smooth stone to caress in your pocket”) has a folk-rock sound and is played with the entire Yo Yo Mundi band. “Stelle nere” (“Abandoned by the moon, rare stars dive into the sea, twin lights dancing freely in the reflection on the precipice of the abyss”) is a song written for an Apulian group, C.F.F. and Nomade Venerabile, re-proposed in an excellent version with the melodica in the foreground. “Curcuma e Zenzero” (“Cook aphrodisiac music, fantastic notes will nourish us, cook heavenly music, ethics and sustainability”) shines with ethnic influences thanks to Simone Lombardo’s bagpipes, Maurizio Camardi’s duduk, Laura Merione’s violin, and Elisa Testa’s intertwining vocals. The album closes sweetly with “La canzone delle distanze” (“I drank hunger, I ate thirst, digested tears, stole comets, my gaze rises and falls, in front of the horizon, the song stretches out”). With this work, Maestri highlights his entire human universe, confirming himself as a champion, thanks to refined writing combined with convincing sounds. “Amorabilia” is a succession of emotions, as well as being an excellent debut and a happy confirmation.

“Mi ritrovo debuttante a 60 anni i musicanti devono schierarsi”

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di Paolo Ferrari, La stampa

 

De Andrè, un genovese mediterraneo a Napoli

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‘Na strada ‘mmiez’o mare. Naples for Fabrizio De André reinterprets Crêuza de mä in Neapolitan

by Guido Festinese – giornaledellamusica.it

Various artists.
‘Na strada ‘mmiez’o mare. Naples for Fabrizio De André
Nota Records
2024
We have been using the term ‘classic’ to refer to something related to the world of art, or in any case to human ingenuity, for almost two thousand years. In the second century AD, that controversial little word was coined by Aulus Gellius, and the reference was, in fact, ‘classist’: it was classic and worthy, therefore, of what a ‘class’ well endowed with wealth and economic presence could afford.

Through various curious twists and turns, the word has come down to us. The meaning closest to our intentions and purposes today (and since Goethe) is that a classic knows how to live comfortably in the present, while not forgetting the past and keeping an eye on the future.

In fact, this is how the works of Shakespeare, Dante, Borges, and Virgil work, innocent inhabitants of different eras. It works the same way in music, and even in popular music, at least the kind that is most receptive to influences that are not popular, or are only partially so: think of Sgt. Pepper by the Beatles, or that disturbing masterpiece, now in its fortieth year, that was and is Crêuza de Mä.

Now that the austere and reifying museum aura that long haunted De André has vanished, as has been well noted by some attentive scholars, we can take stock and make observations, but also talk about the present. Crêuza de mä was truly an unwitting classic, created in the heart of the years of ‘Reaganite hedonism’ and ‘Milano da bere’ (Milan to drink), in a stubborn and contrary direction, to quote Faber, or rather, his mentor Álvaro Mutis.

Crêuza de mä was a turning point, a new beginning, a point launched into the infinity of pop and singer-songwriter music to build a straight line made up of infinite points.

It was a turning point, a new beginning, a point launched into the infinity of pop and singer-songwriter music to build a straight line made up of infinite points. Its two limitations, referring to a language that no one understood, an almost invented Genoese dialect, and music that no one knew, a bunch of Mediterranean aromas that were also (almost) invented and that no one in the general public suspected, became strengths.

Here, the discussion could end: because finally, Nota Records is releasing the recording of two memorable evenings held in the courtyard of the Maschio Angioino on September 14 and 15, 2015: ‘Na strada ‘mmiez’omare / Napoli per Fabrizio De André. Crêuza de mä sung and played in its entirety.

The architect of it all is Annino La Posta, who oversaw the cultural direction of the project and co-directed it artistically with Dario Zigiotto. All under the auspices of the Municipality of Naples, Club Tenco, and the De André Foundation.

The protagonists, for Faber / Pagani, re-sung and re-played, but translated into Neapolitan: Teresa De Sio, Francesco Di Bella, Gerardo Balestrieri, Enzo Gragnaniello with Mimmo Maglionico, Maldestro, Nando Citarella, and the Nuova Compagnia di Canto Popolare. A fine group of artists: at that moment, a good balance between historical names and emerging talents.

Remarkable, interesting, and in some cases sensational results. And the technical note that ‘Na strada ‘miezz’o mare is a translation much closer to the true, literal meaning of Crêuza de mä than one might think.

Here we return to the ‘classic’ point: what has become classic allows, welcomes, and relaunches every reinterpretation, mysteriously preserving its unique essence and endlessly relaunching the possibility of multiple, plurivocal, and perfectly legitimate identities. An increase in beauty, not a diminution.

 

 

Franco Giordani – Ressenàl (Nota, 2023)

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by Salvatore Esposito – blogfoolk.com

Multi-instrumentalist and composer from Claut (Pn), Franco Giordani has a long artistic career behind him, during which he played in various local bands such as Klautans, Top Secret, Lollipop and Bottle of Smokee, before beginning a fruitful collaboration with Luigi Maieron in 2004, as well as trying his hand at different artistic fields, including literature with his collection of short stories ‘Il profumo della brina’ (The scent of frost), published in 2019 for the series ‘I quaderni del Menocchio’ (The Menocchio notebooks), and theatre, working on various shows such as ‘I Turcs tal Friùl’ by Pier Paolo Pasolini and ‘Tre uomini di parola’ (Three men of their word) with Mauro Corona and Toni Capuozzo. In 2015, he released his debut solo album, “Incuintretimp”, which reached the finals of the Targhe Tenco awards, followed in 2017 by the remarkable “Truòisparis”, dedicated to Valcellina and sung in five different variants of the Friulian language. Five years on from the latter, Franco Giordani returns with “Ressenàl”, the third album of his career, in which he has collected fourteen songs sung in Italian and Friulian, including original compositions and lyrics by Federico Tavan, Barbara Floreancig, Giuseppe Malattia, Aldo Polesel and Rosanna Paroni Bertoja set to music for the occasion. As the title suggests, which in the Claut variant of Friulian literally means arsenal but also disorder or confusion, this album is a snapshot of the musical and poetic universe of the singer-songwriter from Claut, in which his passions for poetry, art and sport are intertwined, but also the importance of memory, the urgency of social song and civil protest. The whole thing is embellished by the substantial booklet, a must in the valuable publications of the BlockNota series by Nota Editore, in which Maurizio Mattiuzza’s poetic introduction serves as a prelude to all the lyrics on the album, followed by contributions from journalist Toni Capuozzo and Udine painter Giordano Floreancig, author of the evocative cover and the works that punctuate the pages, and a story by Giorgio Olmoti. We are, therefore, faced with a work in which different art forms converge and which moves across different expressive registers and atmospheres, ranging from the most pungent irony to poetry, from profound reflections on life to historical memories, often forgotten. A collection of suggestions that is only apparently chaotic but which reveals the coherence of a creative “arsenal” that is always in ferment, animated by lively inspiration and a vision of art open to all its forms. All this is also reflected in the arrangements, with echoes of American folk, bluegrass and roots rock, but with forays into pop and rap, and a nod to the musical tradition of Friuli with the villotte. ‘Ressenàl’ came to life between December 2017 and October 2021, with the last few years marked by the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdowns, but during which Franco Giordani (acoustic guitar, vocals and backing vocals) never stopped making music and composing new songs. The album features a large group of instrumentalists who take turns alongside him: Massimo Gatti (mandolin, mandola), Alessandro Turchet (double bass and bass), Elvis Fior (drums), Leo Virgili (trombone, keyboards, synth and electric guitar), Chiara Trentin (cello), Francesco Mosna (acoustic guitar and dobro), Jimmi Bressa (electric guitar), Paola Selva (acoustic guitar) and Alvise Nodale (acoustic guitar), joined by the voices of Leonardo Giordani and Gabriele Della Valentina. As you listen to the tracks, you get the impression of leafing through the pages of a notebook or a musical diary, with the Friulian singer-songwriter delivering the intensity of poetry, the fun of the more ironic episodes and the evocative power of memory in an often intimate and direct way. The album opens with the acoustic folk-rock of the title track, in which the dialogue between the Claut singer-songwriter’s guitar and Gatti’s mandolin envelops meditations on the passing of time and the future. It continues with the touching and nostalgic “Spietame”, based on a poem by Federico Tavan dedicated to his late mother, in which Leo Virgili’s trombone stands out, cutting through the melodic line woven by the acoustic guitar and mandolin. While “Soldato del carbone” (Coal Soldier) is poignant, with lyrics by poet Barbara Floreancig, collecting the memories of a miner, “Via Lontano” (Far Away) is an elegant and delicate love song accompanied by guitar. Then comes the lighter segment of the album with “Campagna elettorale” (Election Campaign), which combines rap and singer-songwriter style, mocking politicians seeking votes for the elections and portraying a bizarre tennis player to the enthralling bluegrass of “La Ballata di Ivan” (The Ballad of Ivan). Quan’s need for peace from his hectic everyday life and the scorching, ironic rock blues of ‘Sindaci autovelox’ introduce us to the delightful ‘Villotta green pass parte I’ and the rock invective of ‘Il falò più grande del mondo’, in which Giordani sings of the constant destructive tension in society, culminating in ‘Villotta green pass parte II’. Towards the end, we see a look at our nation and its chiaroscuro with ‘Oh l’Italia’ and the thoughts of a man who is ‘figlio di un altro mondo’ (son of another world) in “Jeir”, leading to the confessional ‘E iò?’ in which the Friulian singer-songwriter reflects on the meaning of existence and seals what is more than just an album, but rather an articulated conceptual work to be listened to, read and watched, in order to fully understand its richness, beauty and poetry.

 

 

Carmine Torchia NON C’È PIÙ NIENTE

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Ardisc.it

1. At the school of poetry (Préface) (Ferré-Medail)
2. The anarchists (Les anarchistes) (Ferré-Medail)
3. The bad seed (La mauvaise graine) (Ferré-Torchia)
4. Oppression (L’oppression) (Ferré-Torchia)
5. Muss en sein? Es muss sein! (Ferré-Armellini)
6. Memory and the Sea (La mémoire et la mer) (Ferré-Torchia)
7. The Anarchists (theme) (Ferré)
8. Hope (L’espoir) (Ferré-Torchia)
9. Thank You Satan (Ferré-Torchia)
10. Solitude (La solitude) (Ferré-Medail)
11. La Marseillaise (La Marseillaise) (Ferré-Torchia)
12. No, thank you (Sans façon) (Ferré-Torchia)
13. There is nothing left (Il n’y a plus rien) (Ferré-Medail)

Producer:

– Matteo D’Alessandro – production
– Mathieu Ferré – executive production for La mémoire et la mer
– Daniele Fiaschi – production
– Matteo Frullano – production
– Filippo Grilli – reduction and performance of the original score for voice and piano (7)
– Adriano Modica – post-production; co-production (12)
– Carmine Torchia – production

Arranger:

– Léo Ferré – conducting sampled orchestra in the finale (13)

Musicians:

– Alessandro Bartalini – backing vocals (3)
– Matteo D’Alessandro – drums
– Luca De Carlo – trumpet (8)
-Mattia De Minicis – thunder (4); clarinet, bells and shaker (5)
– Daniele Fiaschi – electric guitars
– Matteo Frullano – organ, synthesiser and electric piano (10)
– Enrico Gabrielli – tenor sax, clarinet and strings (9)
– Filippo Grilli – piano (7);
– Adriano Modica – electric guitar, Farfisa organ, synthesizer, vibrafonette, percussion (12); Mellotron (5, 8); synthesizer (13)
– Carmine Torchia – vocals, bass, classical and acoustic guitars, some electric guitars, synthesizers, piano, electric piano, programming

Recordings:

– Lo studiolo – Barberino Tavarnelle – Florence  recordings (April 2023)

Sound engineer:

– Matteo Frullano – recordings

Photographs, graphics, image:

– Enrico de Angelis – preface (Senza bavaglio, senza museruola)
-Mathieu Ferré – preface (Paris-Sersale A/R)
-Linda Fierro – graphic design, graphics and layout
-Michela Franzoso – studio photographs
-Tommaso Le Pera – cover photograph
-Leonardo Sani – photograph on page 29 of the booklet
-Andrea Satta – preface (Ferré sul 38° parallelo)

Notes and Curiosities:

– Book-style packaging with 70-page stapled booklet.
– Tristan, Nicolas and Charlotte: voices in Il cattivo seme.

Where to find it: go to the Block Nota shop

Review:
The more they shouted, the more breath they had left… Ferré’s emblematic banner, which Torchia interprets with great passion in his new 13-track album released at the end of November.

An album that is both political and poetic. In addition to the songs, there is a booklet with lyrics and prefaces by Enrico De Angelis. It is like entering Ferrè’s world of recent years, that of Chianti, with bare hands, revealing all its expressive power through a refined reinterpretation, a penetrating and often recitative tone, and a sharp and full-bodied sound. An album conceived with Ferrè’s son, Mathieu, with meticulous selection of lyrics and arrangements. Seven songs that did not exist in Italian were translated by Carmine. An architect of words, a rock heart that looks to the sky and often speaks through his dog Rùanzu, a design that over the years has become a faithful companion to whom he entrusts his soul.
An eclectic personality who creates harmonisations of the highest quality, permeating all his works with elegance.
Rossana Ghigo (Vinile 38, April 2024)

Carmine Torchia was born in Catanzaro, grew up in Sersale and lives in Milan. He writes songs, produces records and shows, and sets poets to music. These few lines serve to frame a multifaceted artist and help us present his new work. In December 2023, he published the book-CD Non c’è più niente – Carmine Torchia per Leo Ferré, played and sung with Daniele Fiaschi and Matteo D’Alessandro (and featuring several guests). A “political” album, born from a collaboration with La mémoire et la mer, which produced it together with Nota, Valter Colle’s Friulian record label, and Edizioni Peermusic Italy. A work of translation and musical reworking supported by the family of the French singer-songwriter, who was also a composer, writer, artist committed to freedom, an anarchist with a capital A, who was inspired by the French “maudits” such as Baudelaire, Verlaine and Rimbaud, but was also fascinated by the Italians Pavese and Testori; authors whom he set to music and brought to the stage in his recitals over the years.
And it is precisely in the context of the recital, alternating with singing, that this tribute takes place, the result of careful and heartfelt study and immersion in the universe of one of the giants of French songwriting. The opening track is the preface Alla scuola della poesia (At the school of poetry). Torchia (pictured below) seems to channel Ferré’s soul, giving us a vivid and contemporary portrait through the words that shaped his works. The listening experience is intense and attentive; the meaning of the lyrics creates a variety of images and sensations that break down the walls that open the doors to introjection.
Thirteen songs have been selected by Mathieu Ferré, Léo’s son. They have been translated into Italian, some for the first time, such as Il cattivo seme, Thank you Satan, No grazie, La Marsigliese and La speranza. These songs are faithfully interpreted in Carmine Torchia’s original and personal style. Perhaps it is not an album that is easy to approach, especially for those who have never encountered Léo Ferré’s work, which, with its restlessness, has always recounted the strength and melancholy of a rebellious, visionary, outspoken poet who did not mince his words. But on a second listen, you begin to enter his world more fully, and to make things easier, the small book that accompanies the CD contains the translated lyrics (in addition to the original ones) plus three essays that aid understanding. The first is “Paris-Sersale A/R” written by Mathieu Ferré, who introduces, explains and “blesses” Carmine Torchia’s choice, comparing him to Charon, who ferries the listener to discover words, “Love and Freedom”. This is followed by Edoardo De Angelis in “Senza bavaglio, senza museruola” (Without a gag, without a muzzle), which allows us to connect more deeply with Léo’s world and thinking, recounting the nuances that characterised his lyrics. Finally, Andrea Satta, in “Ferré sul 38° parallelo” (Ferré on the 38th parallel), reveals how Torchia managed to interpret him through an unconventional poetic reading.
Some argue that “translating is a bit like betraying”, yet these lyrics manage to retain their original connotations in the linguistic exchange and are emphasised by a soundscape and elements that create an electrifying atmosphere. This is the case, for example, with the (recited) track La solitudine, accompanied by the sound of electric guitar, which gives it a rock soul. And Non c’è più niente, a surreal text, which in the original version lasts over 15 minutes. Torchia extends it to about 18 minutes, offering an evocative reinterpretation that flows on a loop created by a psychedelic harmonic progression, leading us to discover (or rediscover) words that seem to have been written today and that invite us to understand that in that “there is nothing left” there is actually everything. A concept that we find in the words of Léo Ferré (pictured above in a stock photo), which also appear on the back cover.

Annalisa Belluco (L’Isola che non c’era, 2024)

This marvel is undoubtedly one of the best albums of the year. Carmine’s approach is one of true love, careful and meticulous manipulation, and deep respect and attention for this dark, powerful, and desperate lava-like material that starves and feeds you, tears your skin and bottles of blood, gives you goosebumps, and forces you to rethink your models and beliefs, behaviors, and approaches. It’s something that very few people can achieve. To the translations by Enrico Medail and Guido Armellini, the Calabrian singer-songwriter, putting his whole self into it, adds his own hand, for the first time in Italian, under the careful supervision of Mathieu Ferré, Thank you Satan, La Memoire et la Mer, Sans Façon, L’Oppression, L’Espoir, La Marseillaise and, never recorded by Léo, La Mauvaise Graine. Carmine Torchia is authentic, genuine, he does not interpret but makes the songs, the words, the concepts his own; he sings with passion, pain, and involvement; he expands and compresses, adds targeted rocking shoulders to that impetuous and overwhelming river, softens and sharpens visions and landscapes, and gives us back a formidable author who is irremediably contemporary and current; he confirms our belief in how amazing the magical combination of music and poetry can be. Introductions and explanations by Mathieu, Enrico De Angelis, and the equally enamored Andrea Satta.
Alberto Marchetti (Ardisc, June 2024)

Lino Straulino – Lino Straulino cjante Ermes (Nota, 2023)

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by Salvatore Esposito – blogfoolk.com
A profound connoisseur of Friulian culture and tradition, particularly that of Carnia, Lino Straulino has often combined his songwriting with the poets of his homeland throughout his forty-year artistic career, dressing their lyrics with the elegant musical textures woven by his guitar. This is the case with his debut solo work, La Faire, released only on cassette in 1990 and dedicated to the lyrics of Emilio Nardini, later reprised on the 2005 album Al Soreli, but also with other subsequent works such as Tieri Neri in 2001 with the poems of Maurizio Mattiuzza, Ogni sera. Lino Straulino al cjante Leonardo Zanier’ in 2018, in which he set to music the ‘multifaceted narrator of Carnia’, to use the words of Valter Colle, who edited the publication. A central album in what is now a veritable strand of his extensive discography is certainly the album “Lino Straulino cjante Ermes” from 1997, the result of intense study and research on the work of Ermes di Colloredo (1622-1692), in which the Carnic singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist reinterpreted eight compositions in the Friulian language by the poet-soldier, adapting them into music. The album came ten years after his debut as a solo artist and echoed the musical approach of the latter, as he told us in an interview a few years ago: “It was the beginning of my career, because in 1990 I released a cassette at my own expense with Nardini’s songs, which then became an album. A few years later, ten to be precise, because it was 1997, this experience also led to the album dedicated to Ermes di Colloredo, which was something I had been working on for some time, but it was very quick to produce because for me it was like tackling Dante, he is in fact the greatest Friulian poet. I was very pleased that Rienzo Pellegrini, who is a university professor but also a great scholar of local literature, greatly appreciated my reworking of the material, because despite being an album for guitar and voice only, it received great acclaim, and not only in Friuli. Considered one of the most significant poetic voices in Friulian literary history for his poetry, which is dense with realism and not without satirical and burlesque accents, Ermes di Colloredo used a wide variety of expressive registers, ranging from love lyrics to theatrical texts in dialogue form in prose and verse, in which he often recounts the customs and society of the late 17th century with pungent irony, all permeated by a strong sense of realism. On the occasion of the fourth centenary of the Friulian poet’s birth, the distinguished label Nota has reissued the album in CD-book format with the addition of a substantial booklet containing all the texts revised and translated by Rienzo Pellegrini, based on the first Murero edition of 1785, appropriately revised and annotated. Returning to listen to this album is an opportunity to rediscover it in a new light thanks to the valuable work of Remastered by Luca Brunetti, curator of the 1996 recording, allowing us to appreciate all the poetic nuances of the songs, enhancing the guitar textures and Lino Straulino’s voice. “Seventeenth-century poetry does not claim authenticity of feelings, freshness, or sincerity of emotions,” writes Rienzo Pellegrini in the album’s introductory note, “Instead, it demands technical skill, a display and proof of virtuosity. I tend to insist that writing should be considered in relation to the time in which it was produced. Lino, his voice, and his music adopt a different perspective: an Ermes di Colloredo in relation to the time in which we live, to the human constants that do not change. These are two approaches that can coexist: complementary and not antithetical.” All this can be fully appreciated in this reissue, with the music enveloping the verses of the Friulian poet, enhancing at times his lyricism, at times his pungent irony, and at times his ability to recount the chiaroscuro of the late 17th century. The album opens with the poignant “Niccolò, lassi al fin l’amor tiran” (Niccolò, let love be tyrannical at last), in which the Friulian poet recounts his lovesickness to the young Niccolò Madrisio (1656-1729), framed by Straulino’s guitar arpeggios evoking Baroque music. It continues with a reflection on art in “Che al cil presumi d’innalzà” and the enchantment of nature sung in the invitation to his friend Girolamo in “Jaroni, i rusignui dal mio boschet…”. While the refrain song “Mè saltat in tal capriz” presents a brilliant musical architecture that highlights the peculiar structure of the verses, the following “E un arbolät cu dis” is striking for its metrical construction and the irony of the text, which Straulino renders in music in a brilliant and engaging way. The bitter reflections on a world full of presumption and arrogance in “Tas plen di presunzion, tas arrogant” and those on life in “Cappi, copari, cheste sì chè grande” lead us to the long, intimate ballad “E ben reson, s’hai di chiantà dal sec,” which closes the album. Credit where credit is due, then, to Nota for giving us this new version of the album, which can rightly be considered one of the high points of Lino Straulino’s discography.