Agorà
Ichinen

<<Three thousand realms in a single moment of life>> (T'ien t'ai 6th century)

ICHINEN. One. An instant. But also a mind. A thought.

It is life manifesting in every moment of our existence.

Step by step.

Moment after moment.

Ichinen. A jewel that feeds on the Lotus Sutra. A re-education of the individual as a means to create value respecting the sacredness of life.

The Agoràs play a somewhat educational role in the swamp of existence by oiling those survival mechanisms within which one must learn to dwell..

It is mainly about life. But also about death and rebirth. A circular loop between soul and body, between body and soul.

An escape. But also a return. The enigma of the uncertain step, of doubt. The search for the unknown within ourselves.

Ichinen flows clear like spring water to collect in a twelve-track chalice.

Liquid atmospheres that give way to more soulful phrasing. There is a Mediterranean essence interspersed with ethnic openings, elements oscillating between fusion and electro-acoustic jazz escapades. Occasionally, there is a nod to raga rhythms and Canterbury flavors.

An explosion of color. A three-dimensional chromatic experience. Ichinen disorients through its undulating forms shattered in kaleidoscopic debris of meaning.

The guitars, often in technical dialogue, dominate with almost drunken sulfuric arpeggios. They entwine but do not unravel with a mood that sometimes hints at flamenco (Work in progress).

A small forest gem, perhaps a wildflower, exudes sap and passion (Wood of guitar).

They are salty globules and sweet aromas over which the soft lines of the cello stretch. The incursions of sax and guitar further paint and decorate this intense and melancholic fresco (San Quirico).

It is combustion of dreams in the absence of weight and gravity.

Everything remains suspended. Everything floats.

The vibrations of the acoustic bass are soft clouds seeking rain and caressing the sky.

While the winds settle like sand on the skin (Star strings) only then does the earth open its chest, nurture and reassure.

Now the wind tightens like in the mouth of a master god, vocal supports collide with the rhythms always with stylized elegance and the melody overflows on sound carpets never intrusive (Sensei).

The piano chimes are murmurs within an Ocean of silence, sometimes icy flames of light (Tre maggio).

And this light is a fiery claw that grabs the still half-closed eye.

In the end a dive on the diaphragm and in the belly. Silent and deaf.

This is the place of awakening, of doubt, of duplicity that becomes balance.

Darkness and light.

Substance and spirit.

Body and soul.

Anyone can feel too dead to live or too alive to die.

A pleasant surrender

that fades

in a single moment of life.