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Rating: Background
I read in the local newspaper that on August 6th, Pat Metheny will be at the international festival "Ai confini tra la Sardegna e il jazz" in Sant'Anna Arresi, as every year. I curse and get as mad as a hungry hyena because I realize in a flash that, for one reason or another, I will miss his concert once again.
A couple of days later, in the same paper, I read that the show Fiorello was supposed to perform in Alghero - 30 km from my house - has been canceled and will be replaced on August 7th with a concert: Enrico Rava Quintet with Pat Metheny.
Everything falls into place, I can go, heaven's opened, God exists and listens to jazz.
Waiting
The evening is cool, and a strong maestrale wind blows, lifting the sand from the Maria Pia coast, in front of which stands the open-air amphitheater where the concert will take place. However, this doesn't seem to discourage the many enthusiasts - still incredulous - gathering in front of the box office. A look around and a realization: we all know each other a bit. After all, at these concerts, it's always the same faces; perhaps it's better this way.
We line up for tickets, ironically discussing the theological reasoning regarding the fortunate circumstance that will allow us to listen to the American guitarist, not to mention in such an unusual but exciting context, thanks to the skill of Enrico Rava's quintet. Talking, we realize that the emotional tension is gradually increasing.
Before taking our seats - after securing the necessary beer supply - I stop to chat with a guy selling jazz CDs at a stall. He's a great music enthusiast, whom I know by sight for some time because he attends all the jazz festivals on the island, selling his CDs, which are often highly sought after. While eagerly browsing the merchandise, he tells me about the concert Metheny held in Sant'Anna Arresi the day before. Electrified, he anticipates that we will certainly witness a great musical show: "It's people who want to play, who don't hold back. You'll see... if it’s even half as good as last night's concert, it will still be splendid." Wow! Before, I was curious, now I find myself in a frenzy.
The Concert
Around half-past nine, the evening is opened by Paolo Angeli, who disorients the audience with pleasure for about half an hour with the sampled sounds of his prepared Sardinian guitar, ranging across a myriad of genres: folk, rock, avant-garde, free jazz, ethnic, psychedelia. An interesting musician and a great appetizer. I memorize the name.
Just after 10 pm, the band takes the stage to applause. The lineup is stunning: Enrico Rava (trumpet), Andrea Pozza (piano), Gianluca Petrella (trombone), Roberto Gatto (drums), Rosario Bonaccorso (double bass), and Pat Metheny (guitars).
Few formalities, lots of smiles, and the music starts, going strong right from the beginning. They don't need warming up; they're already on fire. The two pieces by Enrico Rava, that open the evening, are hyper-extended among repeated solos, duets, and trios, highlighting immediately in the frenzy of vibrant sounds the characteristic hallmark of the entire concert: the immense personality of all the musicians, who perform as equals. In reality, there isn’t one star on stage, but six, and this is even more surprising considering - for example - the trombonist is really young (born in 1975). But Gianluca Petrella shows no sense of inferiority because he is a real star capable of continuously plunging into jam sessions, alternating the search for high notes with those heavy. Extraordinary, a musician to keep an eye on. Enrico Rava... what to say. A true gentleman: few words, ironic look, plenty of music, and the ability to do simple things without losing control, always remaining measured and warm, both in meditative moments and more exuberant ones. There might be better trumpet players, true, but honestly, there hasn't been a single concert of his that I've attended and regretted. Then everyone knows that Roberto Gatto is the best Italian jazz drummer, a musician of international stature, who never misses a beat and almost always shows that smile that lets you know how much he enjoys playing. In short, he’s certainly not someone who just punches the clock and understands wonderfully with everyone, managing to be the engine of the evening: a guarantee. Rosario Bonaccorso, on the other hand, accompanies his solos with his voice. He sings, thus, and makes the double bass sing. I had never heard him before, but his vitality surprised me, besides the sophistication of his performances and the timbre of the sounds he is able to produce. Andrea Pozza, on his part, elaborates rich geometries on the piano, intelligently supports the development of the winds, always providing an important and significant note of his presence in the group with expressive melodic lines, attentive and effective progressions. An intelligent, imaginative, and talented musician, moreover also young and to be watched with attention. Pat Metheny, on the other hand, we all know him well enough, but listening to him live is a truly different experience: he is simply a prodigy. He does what he wants with the guitar, always giving the impression that it's the simplest thing in the world. The executions he performs in sync now with Rava, now with Petrella, now all three together at lightning speed, are, for instance, mind-blowing.
Great technique, but at the service of melody, not self-referential music. You have a more concrete test in the middle part of the evening, when with only Rava, the guitarist starts unraveling an interpretation more beautiful than the other, alternating for each one a different guitar. Thus, moving from wonderful yet famous standards ("My Funny Valentine", "Summertime") to a real gem, which is a captivating Jobim bossanova: "Insensatez". This breaks the concert rhythm, truly giving you chills.
And time keeps passing, without it being possible to realize it, as the six musicians extend to infinity an homage to Duke Ellington ("Sand"). The evening is closed with a composition by Metheny ("When We Were Free"), which allows the Missouri musician to go literally beyond imagination, continually working on the pedalboard to produce a torrential rain of notes that literally overwhelms the audience, now standing to cheer the musicians under the stage.
Conclusions
Moral of the story: three and a half hours full of music, a train of true and visceral passion that swept everyone away. A unique evening, worthy of a stage like Umbria Jazz, but occurring due to a fortunate circumstance, a coincidence, a sign of destiny in Alghero. In short, Fiorello I love you.
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