Stefano Bollani
Les Fleurs Bleues

The guy is eclectic: collaborations ranging from Irene Grandi to Gianmaria Testa. And above all, he has class (and what class!) to spare: guaranteed by none other than Enrico Rava. Born in 1972, talented and ironic, Stefano Bollani is certainly one of the most beautiful (kept) promises of Italian music. And in these 70 minutes or so of "Les fleures bleues", Stefano proves it to us. Twelve tracks and a multimedia track, most of which are inspired by the novel of the same name by Raymond Queneau, which enchant and purify, moving at times in the territory of irony, sometimes in that of disenchantment, and sometimes in that of nostalgia.

The beginning, with the solo piano of "L'histoire qui avance", is explosive. After a surge of dissonances that express an incredible "vis vitalis," Stefano launches into a swirling "moto perpetuo" that resolves into an exaggerated crescendo of energy. A business card that guarantees the subsequent pieces. Then we move on to "Rever et reveler", where Stefano introduces us to the excellent "rhythmic" team that supports him on some tracks of the album: Scott Colley on bass and the excellent drummer Clarence Penn (whose delicacy and touch are reminiscent of the great Paul Motian). The track is amazing, light, and delicate like a butterfly that rests its musical wings on light rhythms and exotic, Latin-infused atmospheres. After the meditative "Cidrolin", irony takes the lead again in "Il duca", a jewel, a track that conveys good mood like the smile of the girl you like.

But it is the next track that once again reveals how the inventiveness and art of our Stefano can be so surprisingly flexible and consistent. A "standard" like "Se non avessi più te" is reinvented in such a passionate and enchanting way that it brings to mind Keith Jarrett's "Mona Lisa" or even Bill Evans' "When I fall in love". After a calm start, the next track, "L'arca," sets sail among the waves of music that also pays tribute to the exuberant pianism of Chick Corea. The blues of "Bar Biturico" and the wild and powerful rhythm of Ornette Coleman's "Chippie" introduce the album's new surprise: Stefano discovers himself as a singer. And in "Si Tu T'Imagines" he takes us by the hand and leads us into a fairy-tale atmosphere, with those splashes of tender piano like a music box, which, let's say it... really feels "parisienne."

Credit is also due to the bassist Scott Colley, who in "Dans Mon Ile" reminds us that among his teachers was none other than the good Charlie Haden. The piece opens with a truly tender and passionate piano-double bass dialogue, where Scott shows us he is on the poetic and musical level of such a master. After the tribute of "It could happen to Queneau", the album closes with a second "standard": "Un giorno dopo l'altro", the timeless hit of the great Luigi Tenco. Just the beginning, with those few bars of a disenchanted and melancholic piano, is enough to put the sweetest (bittersweet) cherry on this sumptuous musical cake.

What else to add? Chapeau, Stefano.