Travis
The Man Who

THE REVIEW

Music is with us everywhere: it accompanies us in traffic; it's with us while writing a review and with us when we're with our partners... on an October evening in 2004, I reflected on how to say many things to a person I didn't see often; and how to tell them everything at once?

It was then that I embarked on writing the first letter of my life, and "The Man Who" was there while my pen wept ink and the paper absorbed feelings and emotions like a sponge... 45 minutes, perhaps too long to write simple words, but enough to express the immense joy I had inside... and he was there; "I'm writing to reach you..." said Fran’s timid voice as I moved the pen closer to the page; and a smile crossed my lips because indeed I was also "writing to reach her...". And then, the fear translated into words, the fear of losing her, the only person worthy of my attention, the fear of "The Fear." The music molded with my words, the songs created a sort of plagiarism: it was as if I were writing what they told me to write... "this can't happen, these are MY emotions" I told myself, meanwhile my pen described the weak points of my character... "is this how you are, Stefano?" I thought to myself while a guitar seemed to weep on "As You Are"... "As you are... how are you?!"

Yes, the music was plagiarizing my writings... my text began to have sudden mood changes: it was a continuous jump between moments of naive joy and moments of melancholic reflection... and from the speakers of my stereo emerged the same feelings at the same time: the joy in "Driftwood" followed by the melancholy of "The Last Laugh Of The Laughter" and then "Turn", "Why Does It Always Rain On Me?"; the immense sadness that a simple harmonica could emanate ("Luv") and the great joy that an acoustic guitar could convey ("She's So Strange")... and so it went for all 45 minutes... "Blue Flashing Light" smelled of anger and it wasn’t necessary to reach the conclusions of my letter, I didn't have space for anger, or maybe I didn't want to create space for it... it had to line up behind the great amount of joy that still waited to be written; but the end of the cd seemed to coincide with the end of my inspiration: like hypnosis that loses its effect and brings you back to the real world... it was then that I realized that for 45 minutes my pen had never stopped, it never hesitated nor made a single mistake... the person who received that letter was "astonished": the same guy she knew was the same one who wrote those words... from that day our relationship is unique and even today I don't believe it would have been the same if there had been another album keeping me company... but I never told her...