Höstsonaten
Höstsonaten

"The Dream" and "The Illusion"

The shadow cast by the towering columns behind her, upon which the warm rays of the sunset relentlessly beat, seems to have no effect on her. Her skin, so white as to suggest it might glow with its own light, turns even the dazzling array of jewels surrounding her dull, completely encircling her graceful body, lightly resting on a throne too cold and austere to harmonize with the warmth and gentleness of her gaze. She doesn't even lean against the backrest, preferring instead to lean on the instrument through which she usually sings her profound love for the valiant Othello, the relentless leader at the service of the Republic of Venice, while her hands, perhaps at the thought of him and his temporary absence, run towards her shoulders, revealing a modesty and devotion so absolute that they can only be stigmatized by the deceitful insinuations of the ensign Iago, a slimy individual with a soul more perverse and repulsive than any other character ever appeared among the sordid intrigues and rending dramas of a Shakespearean tragedy.

It is thus through the neoclassical taste given by master François-Édouard Picot, the stylistic hybridization of the constructions, derived from the cross-study of Roman and Eastern architecture, and the dreamlike atmosphere, overflowing from the totality of his canvases, that Gustave Moreau decided to pay homage to the sweet Desdemona, a romantic and tormented literary figure, among the most representative of that privileged catalog of subjects that greatly inspired the work of symbolist painters at the end of the 19th century, of which the aforementioned French artist is the ideal and direct precursor.

Thus, bucolic landscapes and pastorally flavored scenes corrupt in the darkness of macabre hallucinations and indecipherable allegories, outlined by the brush of followers of this pictorial formula, an occult source of certain later surrealism, consecrated to the metaphorical representation of the dark recesses of the unconscious and characterized by that decadent aesthetic, derived from the demise of the positivist dream and the collapse of scientific and industrial ambitions until then immortalized, for better or worse, by the naturalistic technique of photographic rendering realism and immediate visual perception impressionism.

More than a century after the development of these expressive branches, the Genoese composer Fabio Zuffanti, to celebrate the release of the first album he entirely conceived, indeed turned to the art of master Moreau (something he would also do for "Mirrorgames") and decided to feature on the cover an alternative version of the splendid painting illustrated earlier, inscribing on it the Swedish phrase "Höstsonaten" (Autumn Symphony) which, from that moment onwards, besides paying homage to the homonymous Ingmar Bergman film from '78, would name his entire project.

It is not at all simple to talk about this debut dated 1997, because its controversial structure, added to an undeniable vocal uncertainty, raises some questions about the routes, at times bold, taken by Fabio and the many friends and collaborators who accompanied him on this venture, still decidedly valid and interesting. While indeed the fairytale and "autumnal" airs sought by the band openly manifest in the melody intoned by Francesca Biagini's flute, retracing ancient paths, previously traced by the keyboards of Mugen ("Sinfonia della Luna, Part I"; it's interesting to note how this Japanese formation also relied on Moreau's genius to represent its early works), the same cannot in any way be said for the incomprehensible remake of one of the least successful tracks from Cinderella Search's 1993 self-titled debut ("Remember You...", to which a far more preferable majestic and touching lament of "Siberia of Snow" or the brief and more appropriate acoustic interlude of "Interlude" would have been).

The backbone of the album is a mastodonical suite of over 40 minutes which, like a multi-headed hydra, branches into various melancholic scenes, introduced by the deep notes of the piano ("Sunset") and portraying now the poetic serenades, with enchanted Phillipsian echoes, of Stefano Marelli's guitar ("Starfields"), now the nightly walks of Fabio Casanova's minimoog ("Forest"), then pausing on the introspections of a subdued song, framed by Marco Cavani's skilled drum incursions ("Ghosts of Summer Evenings"). The journey, however, is far from over and still dispenses vivid suggestions, ranging from the twilight visions of Boris Valle's keyboards ("Watersong"), to the swirling dances of Edmondo Romano's sax, then blurring into the rapt contemplation of nostalgic horizons in the company of Osvaldo Giordano's mellotron ("Spirals", "Seascape"), until reaching the unpredictable evolutions of a solemn procession composed of the full ensemble of musicians ("Morning").

The conclusion is entrusted to what is perhaps the highest and most fascinating point of the work, if not even one of the undisputed peaks of Fabio's entire compositional career, where a continuous rhythmic metamorphosis unfolds through sinuous melodic spirals, generating a whirlwind of emotions, converging in the pained and bitter confession of the old sailor by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, impeccably reproduced by Carlo Carnevali's narration and Claudio Castellini's singing ("The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part I").

The calm, following the massive storm that sinks the last notes of this intense musical journey, invites the listener to rest and reflection and so, perhaps thinking of the recent release of the sixth chapter of the Höstsonaten saga, dubbed Autumnsymphony, it becomes spontaneous to wonder whether its prolific creator, after having divided himself for years among Finisterre, Maschera di Cera, Rohmer, Aries, laZona, solo works and you name it, might decide one fine day, as already did in the past Moreau with his own home, to gather the numerous fruits of his extraordinary art to make a prestigious and invaluable museum.