Paolo Fresu quintet
Mélos

Is it possible that only a few sites dedicate two lines to this masterpiece? Is it possible that an artist like Paolo Fresu can be acclaimed in France (where, when "Melos" was released in 2000, they were shocked by its beauty) and not in Italy? Why, dear readers, let's be clear: Paolo Fresu is, in my opinion, not valued enough in Italy. I am convinced you will have something to say about my statement, as you should, but how can such an album go unnoticed here? Digging through the network archives, I found articles in German, French, Spanish, Portuguese speaking wonderfully about this masterpiece by Paolo Fresu, while in Italy, on music sites (I repeat, except for a very few that specifically deal with jazz), there is no trace of a review or even a simple mention of "Melos." So I wonder if these critics of the web truly know an artist like Paolo Fresu! Surprisingly, dear ladies and gentlemen, if you go on Rockol, one of the main online music magazines, there is no trace of a review about our artist. But what truly disappoints me is that I must write a blessed review about "Melos," even though I am a music review amateur and not from the field. So, forgive me, but I will start this arduous task myself.

It is difficult to put into words all the emotions I experienced while listening to "Melos." You find yourself in a different, magical world, where an aura of sensation envelops body and mind, relaxing and magnificent, with a Mediterranean sound that comes from the sea and afar. But what is "Melos"? "Melos," as the word itself implies, is song, poetry, melody, a divine breathless chase among musical notes, depictions of vivid solitary and melancholic days, lost and broken love ("Que reste t'il de nos amour?"), a multitude of little scenic portraits that tell about us, our origins, an overview of all our moods. There is so much sweetness and simple harmony in this choral work by the fab four (besides the legendary Fresu on trumpet, there's Ettore Fioravanti on drums, the attentive and precise Roberto Capelli on piano, Attilio Zanchi on double bass, and the understated saxophone of Tracanna) but above all, there is the joy and desire to invent new simple melodies, light, sumptuous, sighed, whispered, where even breathing has an important and melodious sound. "Lester," a tribute to friend Salis, is moving; while the homage to Nicola Arigliano ("Così") is nostalgic. But, in my opinion, the highest peak of this work is represented by the interpretation of "Que reste t'il de nos amour," a loving reinterpretation of a classic by Charles Trenet that always fondly reminds me of many scenes from Truffaut's delightful film "Baci Rubati."

When I listen to and re-listen to this album, I forget about the world around me, the problems, the university, I prefer to listen to it in complete solitude contemplating a fixed point in the room, starting to wander with the mind towards desolate, welcoming, soft lands, and I allow myself to be lulled by the sound of the trumpet. If I think about how many followers the undisputed genius Miles Davis has left around the world, it gives me goosebumps. But I also think that, among all, a young man named Paolo Fresu deserves the top positions.