Rava Sellani
Radio Days

A recent and far from negligible trend is that of exploring the vast repertoire of Italian songs in a jazz style. I remember when, in the 1980s, one of the first products of this kind appeared—namely a double LP in which great classics (and others) from Battisti's repertoire were interpreted in a jazz style. At that time, Lucio was wonderfully still among us, producing the unmissable "bianconi panelliani" every two years, and we all wondered what He thought of the operation (which involved figures of the caliber of Rava and that other caliber of Mango...). From then on, following Miles' dictate that the repertoire of "standards" needed updating (remember, also in the fabulous and underestimated eighties, the interpretation of "Time After Time" and "Human Nature"?), almost everyone has tackled the so-called "light" repertoire (which, when well-written, is not light at all).

And so here are the splendid albums by Renato Sellani, the vintage and gigantic pianist, dedicated to Paoli, Tenco, and Lauzi (whom I've talked about elsewhere), and here are other albums (like Tiziana Ghiglioni, for example) dedicated to Tenco or Battisti, and many dedicated to the great classical Italian song. In short: our excellent jazz musicians have tackled repertoires that harmonically lent themselves more to the interpretation of "Afro-American" canons. It is, in fact, rare to find interpretations of giants such as "De André" or, especially, Paolo Conte. The latter, despite being steeped in the best swing to the core, has always followed "pre-bop" rules, openly admitting his little interest in everything we might define as "post-Miles". Classical songs, however, like those of the aforementioned singer-songwriters, especially the Genoese school, are very suitable: the harmonies are born from the boundless love for America that was present in all European composers of the mid-twentieth century.

Thus, the jazz musician revels in it. Happily. And here, in this splendid 2000 duo album of woodyallenian memory (the title is an explicit homage, born from a shared feeling between cinema and music), the ultra-professional pianist Sellani, capable of playing almost anything excellently (probably the best "accompanying" pianist Italy has ever had), meets the trumpet of Enrico Rava, which is today the most important and representative instrument of Italian jazz. However, the schools (it must be said, despite Sellani's histrionic mastery making everything seem simpler) are very different. Renato Sellani indeed grew up "eating" Hines and Peterson, but also, probably, Powell and Tatum, with a long background as an accompanist of singers, player of luxury backgrounds, and the like, while Enrico Rava knows very well the language of Miles and Chet, has lived through a long and famous "free period" before moving away from it and dedicating himself, like all the greats (especially Jarrett), to the cult and "cultivation" of the only "necessary notes", as he would say. But the two schools, although so different, here integrate and dialogue perfectly. Rava avoids "screams" and focuses on a more "respectful" phrasing, as well as a rigorously theme-exposing style on the borders of the originals, while Sellani does his job as best as he can.

The repertoire found them certainly in agreement since the two are not exactly youngsters. But it is also explicitly dedicated to a time when music came from the Radio, and people sat before the Radio waiting for the loved notes, and there was no alternative to Radio and Concerts, except the first "vinyls," which were not cheap. The most recent piece is indeed a tribute to the highly underrated pen of Bindi ("Arrivederci"), while the rest dates back in time and is in the Italian collective imagination, like "Ma L’Amore No," "Parlami D’Amore Mariù," "Amore Baciami," etc. Perhaps a bit inconsistent, though not bad, is the album's closure with two "live" tracks. One is a repetition of the debut track, alternative but pleasant, while the other is an interpretation of "The Man I Love," beautiful but rather off-theme, as well as a bit "overheard." The presence of these two concluding "live" tracks, beautiful and unnecessary, even in terms of total album duration, confirms that if something is missing in Italy, it is a serious, and perhaps rightly slick, marketing strategy. Nonetheless, the album is beautiful, nocturnal, suitable for listening to as well as background music for a lovely dinner that deserves the music...something like a Castelmagno with good honey and the right kind of dessert wine would be a good idea.

Then, sitting on a nice sofa, in front of such Musical Wonder, a nice cigarillo wouldn't hurt.