IVANO FOSSATI - LUNARIO DI SETTEMBRE
Unfortunately, I can't find a live version that matches the one I would like to describe to you.
Teatro Verdi, in Pordenone, late '80s.
"Discanto" had just been released, following the masterpiece "La pianta del tè."
Ivano shows up with two others and starts playing some old stuff. "Okay," I think, "what a drag!"
Then he says, "Tonight we’ll go a little ways; together with these and other musicians." And he kicks off "La pianta del tè," with the guy from Intillimani—yes, that very one!—materializing on stage, playing that stuff beautifully with those pipes that, perhaps, weren’t a vuvuzela.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Celtic harp, a mandola, a whistle appear.
Diobòia!
An acoustic setup, a sound system, a sonic balance among the highs, the louds, and the silences (yes, music is also made of unplayed notes, just ask Miles Davis) beyond perfection: even those who understood nothing of all this didn’t dare to breathe.
The flight of a fly would have been disturbing.
Returning to this piece, after having laid down the law, he launches into a diatribe about justice, cites Judge Carnevale—who at the time acquitted mobsters—and explains why the "witches" were burned alive.
Then he concludes:
"And, still, today, justice is administered... LIKE THIS!"
BUUMMM!, with the lowest piano key.
Normally, when someone tries to explain things, it drives me crazy (it happened to me even with the latest De André, who I think talked too much), but that time it was just right!
P.S. For dates and technical details, specifications, tunings (except for the mandola, which was in Open D major), please refer to those in the know: I prefer the guts.
Unfortunately, I can't find a live version that matches the one I would like to describe to you.
Teatro Verdi, in Pordenone, late '80s.
"Discanto" had just been released, following the masterpiece "La pianta del tè."
Ivano shows up with two others and starts playing some old stuff. "Okay," I think, "what a drag!"
Then he says, "Tonight we’ll go a little ways; together with these and other musicians." And he kicks off "La pianta del tè," with the guy from Intillimani—yes, that very one!—materializing on stage, playing that stuff beautifully with those pipes that, perhaps, weren’t a vuvuzela.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Celtic harp, a mandola, a whistle appear.
Diobòia!
An acoustic setup, a sound system, a sonic balance among the highs, the louds, and the silences (yes, music is also made of unplayed notes, just ask Miles Davis) beyond perfection: even those who understood nothing of all this didn’t dare to breathe.
The flight of a fly would have been disturbing.
Returning to this piece, after having laid down the law, he launches into a diatribe about justice, cites Judge Carnevale—who at the time acquitted mobsters—and explains why the "witches" were burned alive.
Then he concludes:
"And, still, today, justice is administered... LIKE THIS!"
BUUMMM!, with the lowest piano key.
Normally, when someone tries to explain things, it drives me crazy (it happened to me even with the latest De André, who I think talked too much), but that time it was just right!
P.S. For dates and technical details, specifications, tunings (except for the mandola, which was in Open D major), please refer to those in the know: I prefer the guts.
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