Franco Battiato
Sulle corde di Aries

THE REVIEW

"The teacher in the summer gave us lessons in her courtyard; I always sat on a small wall watching the sea. Every now and then a ship passed by....."

This is the album where our Battiato flies over his memories and pays them tribute...

Here it is! He has found the right "sequence" of airy and glassy sounds and begins to wander over it. Anyone who has stopped to reflect will have stumbled upon that sudden "frequency" that brings you back at once to that moment, that smell, that taste. Like in "In Search of Lost Time", Proust describes how the protagonist, through a taste, finds himself young again, so our Stranizza d'Amuri sees himself years ago contemplating the majestic and placid waves of the sea of his Sicily, in a sort of undefined and placid sphere, and perhaps insecure.... and this journey is a journey laid on evocative sounds, on bells, percussion, oboes, small organs, sticks on glass, sea waves, time, and on that scent that doesn't go away.

That scent probably never existed, or it was captured too quickly, and it is now being sucked out of the drawers of memory. Now it was ready.... now it was ready.... Our mind is something incredibly cryptic, but Charles Sherrington had already spoken about the "magical loom" of neurons, that is, that weave of nerve cells whose function is to transmit messages. And memory is a whirlwind that extracts honey and magical sequences of celluloid, and dances to tribal rhythms, to an unexpected saxophone, to the East and the West, to voices coming from afar...

"The sky is cloudless, Father let me depart...."

...the eye observed, the eye observes. And it is difficult to withstand the heart in the face of infinity. Our body is a spaceship and it often happens in the early afternoon that it moves on luminous trails, people!