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«the Mazapegul... are one of those completely unknown realities that, however, are the seeds of future music»
«what we wanted to do was... put our ear to the belly of folk sensitivities and disturb them, somehow drive them crazy... like what happens to mayonnaise»
Imagine a day in the countryside, in summer. The hut of Crêuzä de Ma seen from afar... and some elderly person near you reciting, without too much attention, snippets of rural poetry and peasant epic. All around, earth and dust, a lot of dust, the kind that cleanses souls and defines smiles. "Controdanza" is nothing more or less than a revolution: a new, unconscious birth of Italian music which is now no longer (only) Italian. We become Balkan, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, we skip the East and go down to South America.
The Mazapegul were this and much more: those who don't know them have missed the most important group of the so-called Italian "alternative" music in the much-maligned, mythologized, and controversial Nineties, and I accept no arguments. Such is the scope of their music, so many are the "high" references (starting from the title), so great is their ability to rework them, opening doors never even glimpsed before.
But the Mazapegul, who is he? For those like me who are unfamiliar with the Romagnola culture, bassist Valerio Corzani comes to the rescue:
«Mazapegul is a goblin from the Romagnola tradition, a creature half-monkey half-child, with a hat on its head, wandering the countryside on certain nights and sneaking into women's beds, absolutely wanting to sleep on women's bellies».
By analogy, I might venture then that Mazapegul is Dido di Domenico, the singer who cannot sing, the madman who dances with dolls on stage, the one discovered by Massi Amadori – a young guitarist who will be called to replace a gentleman whom we will talk about shortly – literally found in a ditch, early one morning down in the plains of Romagna, between a dance hall and a "liscio" after another right kind of night. And that's where it all started. Enough to make a novel, and the protagonist would not look out of place in any fantasy tale... Dido is a wild genius, a harlequin tramp with the desires of a king, as he would have sung a few years later. He is the soul of Mazapegul because he is the only one capable of giving life to Valerio Corzani's words as no one else ever could, and indeed with him, the Mazapegul will die too. Of course, there wasn't only Dido. Mirco Mariani and Valerio Corzani are the two leaders and the essential gears that conceive and structure the sound of Mazapegul: the first behind the drums and any other type of object that can be struck to create real and magical worlds, the second behind – it is appropriate to say – his huge bass balalaika.
We were talking about the album. It opens with the superb Chiedi alla polvere, reminiscent of Fante, in which all the cards are laid on the table... and things made clear at once. The atmosphere is tense, the voice sharp and aware, and all around the band "revolves" mixing what will be the hallmark of the entire album: an extensive blend of winds (soprano and baritone sax, trumpets, clarinet, and bass clarinet) entwined with poly-a-tonal electric guitar bursts, all resting on Mirco Mariani's percussive imagination (who, besides traditional percussion, enjoys beating, at his discretion, coins, shells, and assorted ironware). Acoustic and electric making love through a long journey to South America. The rhythmic base mocks folk and reggae in turn, upon which the markedly blues solos of the winds graft themselves (take the stunning Sudore and Amore Lasco, the only track that at the time gained a bit of fame). Above all this rises the disturbing tone, swaying as it follows dub steps, of Valerio Corzani's immense bass balalaika, which finds its raison d'être in that timbral search we talked about earlier. Tromba d’aria is overwhelming and irresistible and calls to mind, not too distantly, the sounds of contemporaries Mau Mau, with whom Corzani, by the way, had worked during the times of "Sauta Rebel" and "Bass Paradis". Tana and Controdanza, where "the hall wavers and is not the same anymore / and the guitars are there pushing", are instead not-so-hidden tributes to the gentler and dreamier Paolo Conte in his imaginary transoceanic voyages. Episodes like La lunga estate calda and Guru are suspended between Tom Waits and the Balkans. Round and round we are always there: Paolo Conte, blues, jazz, and "liscio", Tom Waits with all his post-Swordfishtrombones worlds, the Balkans, and it’s just a moment to arrive at Capossela. It is through these lenses that we can also understand oblique strokes of genius like L'Ira del Delfino or the palindromic Aim Angamor, in which Our characters manage to unite Armenia, Sardinia, and Arabia into a single chorus...
The most attentive would have noticed there is a link that connects (almost) all the elements above. Who? Well, him, Marc Ribot, end of suspense. I don't think introductions are necessary.
Now, how is it possible, I say, that a group of slightly over twenty-year-olds, with practically no pedigree outside the mentioned Romagna dance halls, manage to have as a guest on their debut album a guitarist who, I throw it there, until that moment had played among others with Waits, Lounge Lizards, Chuck Berry, Wilson Pickett, and Caetano Veloso? The story, incredible to tell, is this: Valerio and Mirco are in love, what am I saying, obsessed with Tom Waits, and one day they decide to send a little tape (!) with their demos to Mr. Ribot, a few demos and they are the only ones they have, without any hope, just for the sake of saying - well, we tried. Attached to the tape, a note with their phone number. The fact is, Mr. Ribot picks up the receiver and answers, and even congratulates them, and asks to play with them. The result, besides the various bruises that Valerio and Mirco will have gotten by falling off the chair, is that Marc Ribot brands "Controdanza", the first album of the unknown Mazapegul, AD 1996. Capossela is sharp and targets him between one concert and another, it doesn't take long for him to woo him and make him one of his most loyal collaborators. But when he goes around telling the story that he brought Marc Ribot to Italy, let him tell it, he knows it’s a load of bull.
The story of the Mazapegul is essentially all here. It will all end with a terrible car accident, a car in a ditch just as it had all begun, and Dido leaving this world to everyone's dismay. Two fantastic albums (retrieve "Piccolo Canto Nomade", more focused than this and also more easily obtainable!) and the Mazapegul leave without making too much noise. Mariani will then be involved in several other projects, from Daunbailò – the most attentive will catch the reference – to the more contemporary Saluti da Saturno and Extraliscio. I finally allow myself to suggest you watch the splendid "Sul Ventre Della Musica", a short documentary by Stefano Bernardeschi on the history of the group: you can easily find it on YouTube and from there come most of the quotes for this writing.
And ask it
Ask the dust
Crossover of soot
Ask the dust, learn from things
Not to give up if they are not completed.
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