Lino Cannavacciuolo
Segesta

Often forgotten, Italian music flows, vilified, disqualified, deprived of what, on the contrary, it manages to express. We often look "outside" for those emotions we consider "pure" only if they come from abroad. We often forget that our way of feeling is complete; we often forget that our emotions are studied and exchanged for mediocre records built at the table with the sole purpose of selling as much as the music season allows them. Yet, in the midst of this fervor made of flashy clothes, improbable looks, luminescent outlines designed to attract the palate of the "aesthetes", there are those in the underground who dream of music as communication and sharing. There are those who are not ashamed to be part of one of the oldest cultures the world knows, those who do not forget their "disappeared", "blurred" origins, but ready to return to manifest their greatness and poetry, but also the frivolity that only those who are able to embrace "their own flesh" can achieve.

Thus, the ancient city of Segesta rises again, a bastion of Hellenic Sicily... destroyed too many times... rediscovered too many times. But who is Cannavacciuolo? But how can you sell a record by a person with such a... southern and Neapolitan name? What hope does he have on the market? None? No, that's not the case. A talented violinist and fabulous musician, Cannavacciuolo is active in the Neapolitan underground, supporting artists like Barra, Sepe, De Filippo, and so on. His violin vibrates, digging deep, marrying melody and technique, speed and love... that Mediterranean love that only we can communicate.

Stylistically, Segesta is a world music contaminated by electronics, a convergence of all that the southern musical culture can offer. Segesta alternates moments of regret and sadness with tarantellas mixed with rock-like 4/4, to moments of absolute introspection reaching orchestrations worthy of Oscar-winning films (like the marvelous Memento) until it reaches a soul of flamenco mixed with jazz and rock. It often transitions from movements that could remind one of our national Morricone to embracing the melody of Madredeus. In every situation, the 'tumultuous' violin of Cannavacciuolo stands supreme, accompanied by the percussion of the excellent De Piscopo and other greats of the Neapolitan scene such as Daniele Sepe.

The album opens with the sweet and melancholic "Segesta", inviting us to follow the eclectic violinist along the path chosen for us. The music flows slowly with barely perceptible voices, almost lyrical that underline the violin passages. The journey of rediscovering ourselves has just begun. "Sa Lughe" echoes Madredeus and like Madredeus it imposes silence on you, that silence that amazes you and begs you to isolate from the disturbing world. "Abballabà" is a true tarantella that flows, imposing the rhythm upon you. It is followed by the electrified violin of "Il Viaggio" which strongly recalls Neapolitan music imbued with lustful Arab rhythms. "Serapis" flows, merging electronics made of "heavy" basses and insistent percussion with Arab tradition. The album triggers "Memento"... a fabulous soundtrack... for life. "Kasba" revives Neapolitan traditions by blending them with harmonious visceral rock. The album continues revealing traditional dances (in "Danze"), traditional Neapolitan song mixed with plucked guitars in rhythms vaguely samba and flamenco (nu poco e bbene). "Nanadiè" unveils itself to the listener in an almost Celtic and reflective atmosphere, until the insertion of African percussion. Segesta closes with "Las Ramblas", a world piece with a pronounced jazz fusion character.

This Segesta is an album for few people... an album that suffers from being music too "mature" to be listened to, too Italian. But a strong reflection imposes itself after listening: Segesta is rediscovered from the buried years, it has always been there, it's up to us to find it again in our hearts.