Michael Brecker
Pilgrimage

The Testament.

While recording "Pilgrimage", Michael Brecker knew that his leukemia was already in a severely advanced state. By the time the album was released, he was already dead. Fully aware that it would most likely be his final album, Michael, a quiet man but with firm intentions, must have had only one thing in mind: to leave in style, now more than ever (if not now or never again). There is (forgive the colloquial expression) a barrel of style here (not only metaphorically: it’s 80 very rich minutes): one can live with style and die with style, and in this dichotomy, "Pilgrimage" perhaps represents more than anything else the passage, the connecting link: the last passionate, romantic, desperate declaration of love for life, for that thing called music which for many great musicians like Michael, ultimately coincides with life: the last act of attachment to everything that has been loved. Desperate perhaps, but more stylish than ever.

"Pilgrimage", in fact, does not speak of death. Yes, okay, maybe there is a resentful dedication to "the stingy time" (in "The Mean Time", a masterpiece of vortices and melodic ascents and stunning syncopations) a romantic and desperate "When Can I Kiss You Again?"; there is also the moving tearjerker ballad that closes the album and shares its name, and if we really want to, we can connect it to the idea of death. But, in short, what am I referring to? The titles of the tracks? I mentioned dedications, but dedications are something that has to do with words, a method of human communication that is inadequate, unclear, obsolete compared to music: here there are no words (excluding the chanting in the background of "Tumbleweed"): there is only her, she who speaks of herself and thus of life, always and in any case. That she speaks with style and class, with imagination, always saying new things, is beyond question: look at who played on this album (Metheny, Hancock, DeJohnette, Patitucci) and the idea that immediately jumps to mind is that of a feast for our ears, but it is also a feast in honor of Michael, and I have the impression of participating in it myself.

So let us not think of the other world while listening to this record: a testament means death, but a testament leaves a legacy. Life.