Reviewed by Riccardo Talamazzi

NOTE: THIS A LOOSE TRANSLATION FROM THE ORIGINAL ITALIAN REVIEW

Perhaps it would be more accurate to describe this record as an ensemble for two pianos and trumpet, because the Maghrebians call the oud, the third instrument present here, the "piano of the desert". It is usually made up of five pairs of strings plus one for a staff, similar to the lute of our Renaissance past. One might be familiar with the sound of the oud thanks to musicians such as Anouar Brahem, Dhafer Youssef and Rabih Abou Khalil (to name the most famous), with strings resonant and full of harmonics evoking the silence of exotic desert landscapes. In fact, silence is a paradoxical protagonist in this recording, Tania Giannouli's fourth. To talk about absences in music as good as this may seem risky, but the modal structure of the whole work, preferentially built by long moments suspended on a single musical scale and minimal tonal changes, gives a palpable impression of expanded space, a small universe to which one can abandon oneself without too many shocks or dissonances.

Giannouli's musical background resides in multimedia art, performaning alongside image projections and theatrical recitations. Here we can hear this in the flow of the music on In Fading Light, in triadic formation with two other Greek instrumentalists, Andreas Polyzogoupulos on trumpet and Kyriakos Tapakis on oud. Her music absorbs, through its authentic and traditional Greek spirit, many Middle Eastern references disentangled between repeated piano phrases that are frequently played in unison with the trumpet. The spirit of this music recalls Tigran Hamasyan, by Markelian Kapedian, a melodic wind that blows melancholic Albanian and Armenian lullabies, distant reminiscences of Gurdijeff and Thomas De Hartmann, and traditions that carry 'the song of peoples', revisited and ennobled by classic Western melodic raditions such as Bartok, Verdi, Beethoven, Mozart and others.

The first song in this collection, Labyrinth, is a perfect example of this, with the addition of a perhaps unconscious musical quote from Nino Rota (listen to the soundtrack of Fellini's Casanova again and then draw your own conclusions). When Then is an improvisation that highlights the trumpet, supported by somewhat obsessively repeated piano chords, but there's more space to explore in Hinemoa’s Lament convincing underlying melodic sadness, like a melancholy of the soul where one doesn't want to let go of the sweet pain. The joyful Night Flight is one of the best pieces on the album, and in Bela's Dance the Balkans make their voices heard. This is followed by Ingravida, one of the highlights of the set, although perhaps a less present trumpet would have suited the piece better. With Moth we are in full soliloquy mode, a restful oud solo released from the sonic power of the other two instruments. And then, No Corner, one of my personal favourites, an enchantment in which the dialogue between trumpet, piano and oud reaches a sublime peak. Alas, Disquiet is a pretentious improvisation that gets lost along the way, and while Inland Sea is more catchy and obvious it is still very enjoyable. The last, unrealistic title track is absolutely superfluous. A strange and not particularly strategic way to end an otherwise excellent album.

Riccardo Talamazzi, Off Topic, December 2020
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