Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum (Dedicated to my father)

Detail of Michelangelo’s The Final Judgment at the Vatican’s Sixtine Chapel

I. A song for my father. My father died on a 30th March twelve years ago. As it always happens with the death of our beloved ones, I’ve been compelled to learn how to deal with his absence from the initial unconscious impulse to dial his phone number when cooking his best risotto recipe to the current resigned tendency towards his memory when I’m listening to brazilian music or traveling the North of Italy. All these years, I have felt, analysed and deconstructed the sudden arrival of sadness and nostalgia, the surprise of finding myself thinking “I wish he could see this” or, even more strinkingly, “I hope he’s seeing this”. Seguir leyendo

Why do I still listen to jazz (and what do I talk about when I talk about jazz)

There are few art forms who represent better the spirit of twentieth century than jazz.  Its history and development run parallel to what Eric Hobsbawm called “the short century”, one that begins with First World War and ends with the fall of the socialist regimes of Eastern Europe. Jazz also is a perfect expression of many of the impulses that drive the century culturally and politically: modernism, anti-colonialism, and particularly of two tensions: that between individualism and collectivism and that between high and popular culture. Seguir leyendo