1998 – 2008
‘The Swimmers’ does not give encore simply because it does not have a repertoire.
For those who choose improvisation, it is a sentence and a privilege.
Listen. A sound, a second sound.
Suddenly, one melody, one dissonance, or a long chord. Making others listen to what is happening. Far from the jazz sound alike, nothing is known before, how to begin, nobody knows when it will end. And it ends, as a love action ends. The logic of one unrepeatable ‘truth of the sentiment’ has been completed. Of that time, that distance.
To join the spirits and the instruments, a story is needed a priori. Just a title is not enough. It needs to be told behind the scenes, hardly before exiting. It can be told also to the audience.
It’s a fog or a vapor, a narrative matter to know where to be and just in order to slowly begin to reveal the shape that clothes the course.
Like expert swimmers, virtuosos relax to increase the speed and stamina. The oceans can be crossed and in the metaphor the improbable becomes the truth of not written but rather lived music.
Perhaps there is something of John Cage’s thought but also the desire to watch highly backwards. I like to think about native Thrace, the ancient mountains where the highest musician found and lost his echo. In the oscillation between before and after – and never turn around – music, time, the first sound, the answer and the disappearance of everything express themselves. However, an emotional event occurred, through which we all recognize ourselves.
While playing, listen to the others playing.
They listen to you.
Acqui Terme, August 21st, 2001