Carmen Consoli
Amuri luci

Hi Cammela, but why did you do it? Can’t you see it’s not worth it …

“Honey, did you hear the latest by Carmen Consoli?” This is how the story begins, and I’ll tell you straight away how it ends: with 2 tickets for the concert at the Teatro Regio in Parma, where on November 13th, 2025, the “Cantantessa” presented her latest (master)work: “Amuri Luci”.

In an age that tends to oversimplify everything—first and foremost the everyday language, as if we were all playing that little song we used to sing as children where the words were gradually replaced by silent “mmmmm”s (“La mmm del capo ha un buco nella gomma ...”)—someone like Consoli is, at the very least, out of step. Even the impersonations by various comedians—first and foremost Checco Zalone—play on the use of sophisticated terms in her lyrics. And this is, along with many other things such as her desire to disappoint the wishes of her audience out of respect for them (yes, the phrase is from Battiato), one of the reasons for my Love for “Cammela”. But also small gestures, like the theatrical move with which she tosses away her pick to start fingerpicking, or when she kicks backward to emphasize a change in rhythm: gestures that express the organic unity between artist and art. Therefore, as someone who adores the songwriter and is a visionary dreamer, I can also imagine a world where “Amuri Luci” tops the charts and becomes a topic for bar and street conversations, eventually reaching talk shows: “...so, dear minister, you were just telling me how ‘La terra di Hamdis’ was at the center of the debate during the latest party meeting...”

Ma quali, ma quannu, ma unna?!?

Minchia Cammela, can’t you see the way the world is going? What made you think of singing in Sicilian dialect or, at most, in Latin or Ancient Greek, defying all the logic of the market? And, superchiu, during the concert not a word, not a single caption; only the songs, one after another, entirely self-sufficient. Yet I think the message is clear to everyone—Sicilian, Sicanian, and conquerors: it takes effort, it takes time, it takes culture to get into the soul of these eleven splendid new songs. Those who want to can draw from them a compact and coherent overall vision that expresses a precise political stance; take off your hats to the master, keep quiet and listen, and, if you’re not very familiar with the Sicilian dialect, trust a friend who had to leave Trinacria—we’re everywhere on this earth, persuaded that “cu nesci rinesci”. I know, it’s not enough, you’ll have to do more, and journey through the Sicilian poetic tradition in search of Ignazio Buttitta and Nina da Messina; you’ll have to admit your high school teachers were right when they explained that Theocritus and Ovid are universal authors, you’ll even need to go back to the early Middle Ages to find traces of the Arab-Sicilian poet Ibn Hamdis.

U sacciu, pi tia u sulu fattu di viviri comu vivi e di fari chiddu ca fai è ‘na cosa politica!

Or you can let yourself be carried away by the emotions unleashed by these tracks, reflecting one of the three souls of the “Cantantessa,” the folk one—the one that leads the author’s pen to write about universal themes in a visceral tone. “Every language brings out a different soul in me. For example, Italian has always brought out an introspective Carmen who speaks about herself, whispering. Sicilian, on the other hand, is polemical, it makes me raise my voice. It’s a whole different Carmen; I just can’t write love songs in Sicilian, rather more politically engaged songs.” After all, what is sung here is an origin that doesn’t belong to a land, but to a shared memory: that of those who keep seeking meaning in their roots, even when the present asks us to forget them. All is accompanied by acoustic textures interwoven with balanced orchestrations, through a multiplicity of rhythms that transcend the Mediterranean folk imagination, while electronic parts crop up here and there to remind us that we are in the 22nd century. Yet, everything remains coherent, because at the center is the word, the love and respect for the word as a living material: even if it’s a language you don't fully understand, you feel it belongs to you, in your body, in your veins, and in your guts. You sense myth turning into a contemporary metaphor, telling of wars, migrations, betrayals, abuses. A present where love is a light that doesn’t console, but rather cruelly illuminates the world in its ultimate, mad declension.

For the record, let me point out that “Amuri Luci” is the first chapter of a trilogy which will explore the three souls that have always characterized Consoli: Mediterranean roots, rock, the singer-songwriter tradition. Personally, I can’t wait to hear the rock one, especially since a collaboration with some members of Uzeda is announced!

• Amuri luci
• Unni t'ha fattu 'a stati
• La terra di Hamdis (Ft. Mahmood)
• Mamma tedesca
• 3 oru 3 oru
• Bonsai #3
• Γαλάτεια (Galáteia)
• Parru cu tia (Ft. Jovanotti)
• Comu veni veni
• Qual sete voi? (Ft. Leonardo Sgroi)
• Nimici di l'arma mia