Barbapedana
Yol

I don't care that music is nothing more than a wave and that its psychotropic effects derive from the ability of our brain to "tune in" to the same frequencies of these waves, which can make us alert and attentive if we listen to a piece by the Prodigy or relaxed when we are lulled by delicate new age melodies. I don't doubt science, but I pretend not to know, I like to think that music is a divine instrument capable of coursing through our entire being and clothing us in grace. Many things you will never be able to explain. Fortunately.

The magic doesn’t need to be sought afar; sometimes it's enough to wander through the Trevigiano, make a stop in Caerano San Marco and discover a group of minstrels (in Lombard “barbapedana”) who digitally record centuries of wisdom and mos maiorum of the nomadic populations of Eastern Europe. Like alchemists in search of the philosopher's stone, they have wisely fused in a great cauldron sounds, atmospheres, kletzmer, Balkan and gypsy flavors, thus forging an intense, precious, ethereal, extraterrestrial product. The power of the Magic of Music.

In "Yol" the Barbapedana rely for the first time entirely on this genre, leaving aside the local folk that had inspired them until then. The result is almost an hour of pure ecstasy: the exhilarating melodies of violin and accordion envelop you body and soul and lull you into a cry of joy akin to what Sandro Penna felt when watching the calm and blue sea, but this time the emotion lasts much more than a moment!
The first track, "Opa Tzupa", is perhaps the most "commercial" of the album: a whirlwind violin riff in the old-fashioned Modena City Ramblers style, awakening the innate instinct that drives man to dance to free himself from worries.
But the real magic begins with the second track, "Maiko Maiko", instrumental, where the initial delicate guitar arpeggio flows into a majestic second part, in which the violin’s bow dances swirlingly among the four strings.
From here onward it is a river in full flow: Music strikes you and sweeps you away on its path ("yol" in Turkish means road); it is difficult and pointless trying to grasp its essence: one would be committing a sin of hubris against what is the queen of the arts.
Perhaps the only flaw of the album is the excessive repetitiveness of the sounds, which however still contributes to creating that state of enthusiasm about which I have abundantly digressed before. Perhaps too abundantly. Perhaps I overdid it. Perhaps the real flaw of the album is me, deluding myself into being able to describe Music by writing an outrageous amount of nonsense. I apologize.