Marco Castelli
Stato Brado

First of all, let's set a code: I would say Swing, I would say Boogie, a bit of funky and things like that.

Next, let's point out some sources; not that they are needed as crutches: we indicate them more for clarity; so I would say Conte and before him Buscaglione.

We have already written enough to give an idea of this latest work by Marco Castelli, which I like right from the title: "Stato brado".

It's a record, his third, that soars high, travels fast, never loses its way.

I saw him play live once, here, in my area (he's from Fino Mornasco). He won me over, I talked to him, I interviewed him. Then that was it, left in some nook, one of those lovely June evenings: light air, green grass, blue sky on the line of the sunset, deep blue in the vault. Music intertwining swing, blues, and old jazz fans; New Orleans stuff, basically.

For a couple of years, that's enough. A memory in the database and nothing more.

A few days ago, I find him again, I meet him again in his places, in Cantù, I meet him again in the round form of a record.

I put it on and I hear inside a lot of things, references, atmospheres, and none of these. I hear Conte, with that taste for pronunciation, with that somewhat Spartan speech and easy evocation, and, even earlier, I hear Buscaglione, his verve, the farce, the atmospheres pregnant with consequences. Arbore, why not. But inevitably, even further back, you can hear Basie and Ellington, the old school of Italian swingers, the rhythms of popular dances. And then more, much more: all superbly brought back under a unique style: his own.

And then the stories of Castelli, vignettes that capture with few words the complex lives: well-defined and a bit quirky, a bit like Benni, if you will.

It can't help but make your foot tap, it can't help but move your heart: the record sounds mature, without discomfort: I feel great understanding, the musicians' taste for playing, light and skilled musicians, stories that are small lateral literatures.

From the damp and gray Cantù lands, musical metamorphoses, escapes into exoticisms of various depths, they seem to open many doors, escape routes, pleasant roads that fly away to the listener.

Worth listening to.