Alessandra Celletti
Chi mi darà le ali

"In the dream, I float without any weight. Everything is deep blue, all around. I roll like a child among heaps of clouds, hold her hand, smear myself with light, shout an infinite "I love you" till I lose my voice. I don’t kiss her. I wish I could, but I can't. I almost want to bite those childish lips, so beautiful, sometimes pouting and always so fresh, always sweet. Forever bright and smiling. Good and tempting as if they were made of cream. Chocolate and desire. And cane sugar. And the world a hollow of shadow filled only with one light, hers. And that slight silence around where, without any sound or noise, you can still hear her smile. Because it’s like that. You feel her smile, in that golden-like light, bright in her eyes. Mischievous loves.

Princesses and frogs.

Outside, the wind cuts and pushes, but the body is more alert, tense and light. The thought of her is like a dandelion lost in a monsoon. And the world is outside and inside, streaked with wind.

Uncertain.

Suspended.

And I, in the dream, float without any weight".

It’s a prayer in music, this album by Alessandra Celletti. But it’s above all femininity, with all its immense salvific power. The piano unwinds throughout the album with a delicate and intense thread, a whirling musical Penelope’s web, a discourse woven with notes and silences that now makes and now undoes, where the soul, sown with love and desire, waits, patiently, for a sort of return to itself. To its own authenticity. As a woman. Bright, with light. Confused at times, uncertain maybe, but always, unshakeably lost and burnt with love.

Droplets like perfume falling in silence, precious. This is the opening of the album, where "By the grace of Your name, with love", the hands paint on the piano a delicate and melancholic pattern that slowly envelops you, like silk. And in which your pain, as a man, gently transforms. A piece scented with peach like a child’s skin. A fragile and tenderly anxious piece like a mother's kiss. A multifaceted musical femininity. That now becomes a cat and purrs in the murmuring flow of "O Good God, let the dew fall". Or that loses itself trembling in the uncertain and rarefied atmosphere of "Gather us together from the four corners of the world“.

But this album is above all a prayer, a dialogue with God, and perhaps, in general, with man, with "the other." These are songs without words, prayers without words, in "Who will give me wings". And it is especially Psalm 54, "Give ear to my prayer, O God”. It is on this Psalm, in fact, on its verses, that Alessandra Celletti climbs the ivy of her musical discourse.

It’s the rocking bitterness of "Lo, wandering, would flee far away”. A piece that leaves, like wrinkles around the eyes, in the morning, the bitterness of too short a sleep and a dream lost too soon. A flight from oneself, before from the world, from others. An atmosphere suspended in the void of one's uncertainty of a childish acrobat. Or it is the gusts of notes in "Scatter them, Lord, confuse their languages". Extremely delicate musical thoughts, bittersweet miniatures of sharp notes, tasted like in the silence of a tight-lipped kiss. Up to the tenderly obsessive, pale lunar glimmers of "Day and night they go about on its walls”.

"We were bound by a sweet friendship”, and here the chant becomes a flow, an undercurrent of the soul that drags you towards the abyss of the bond between two souls. Simple and unexpressed as an everlasting blood pact. To then lose itself, a Theseus without the thread, in the hallucinatory and dissonant atmosphere of "Let death seize upon them”. A steep and rugged piece like a descent taken too fast, without brakes. A piece of sound sensations that quickly run from the nape of your neck down your back, shivering. Bend after bend, diving down the slopes of the heart. Against the wind. Up to the omega of the arpeggios in "Cast thy burden upon the Lord”, with its stolen time, in which the notes die and crumple onto themselves like a last stolen kiss that overflows, canceling itself in silence.

An album that now sounds easy, now unpredictable, now delicate, now incandescent and inextricable like a half-spoken sentence. A record that surprises you, teases you, offers you the green apple of sin, and that saves you with its woman gaze. That redeems, and absolves you, unexpected, unanticipated.

"And I, in the dream, float without any weight".