Fotografia is the second album by Italian (Dublin resident) pianist Francesco Turrisi for Diatribe Records. Turrisi presents an original blend of contemporary European jazz influenced by Baroque music and Mediterranean traditional music in an album featuring intimate piano trio alongside piano solo performances. The album contains original compositions by Turrisi and arrangements of Italian traditional melodies as well as a series of short improvisations on a baroque bass line called “ciaccona” performed here by an exceptional rhythm section comprised of Portuguese drummer Joao Lobo and Danish bass player Claus Kaarsgaard. Released 1st July 2011.
Reviews
FotografiaDiatribe **** In his most ambitious CD yet, the gifted pianist/composer explores Italian folk songs, Jobim, his own originals and, with Claus Kaarsgaard (bass) and João Lobo (drums), makes use of the form and freedoms conferred by a baroque bass line for a series of musical miniatures ( pensierini ). These baroque-referencing snapshots, gripping trio mood pieces, variously shardlike, sombre, minatory, faintly mocking or childlike, take this fine album to one place. However, in a contrast perhaps too great for one album, the CD’s most completely realised performances move it to another place with the much longer, sharply differentiated takes of A ttaccati li Tricci and Alla Carpinese – folk songs whose melodramatic darkness is persuasively and imaginatively embraced – and the beautifully articulated, moving personal solo tributes to Turrisi’s partner and father in Pensierosa and Lachrimae . See diatribe.com
—
Encouraging experimentation is the lifeblood of jazz. It keeps the music vital and ensures that new voices get to have their say. The minute the music becomes a museum relic, played through a fixed, orthodox interpretation, is the moment it dies an ignominious death. Thank goodness, then, for musicians like pianist Francesco Turrisi, who embraces creative experimentation on Fotographia.
This collection of fifteen vignettes periodically employs bassist Claus Kaarsgaard and percussionist Joao Lobo. But for the most part, it’s Turrisi’s show. His approach has a graceful, classical sensibility to it, even when he’s playing atonally. His light, refined touch conveys subtle purpose whether he’s playing straight or far out.
The compositions and improvisations are derived from a variety of inspirations, including Pensierini, which are short children’s essays—primary school assignments—that Turrisi uses conceptually as a musical exercise. These seven spontaneously improvised trio pieces, scattered throughout the album, are the freest, most avant works, but they also present a range of approaches. Two employ random plunking; one is a melancholy dirge, reminiscent of a Frederic Chopin Nocturne; another becomes a mechanical pattern of pianistic industrialism. Some are jarring and angular, and some are jewel-like in their petite splendor. The breadth of ideas presented within the concept is remarkable.
The other tracks on Fotographia are a mix of Italian traditional songs, Turrisi’s own compositions, and Antonio Carlos Jobim‘s “Luiza.” The title track is a slow, spacious echo, employing silence around the notes, building slowly into a chord structure. “Pensierosa” is a melodic exploration of waving chords and arpeggios that presents an almost bucolic soundscape. It’s a beautiful piece that showcases Turrisi’s classical sensibility and lyrical composing abilities.
Fotographia can be a challenging record, but it can also be very rewarding. It’s brilliance lies in the variety of its musical perspectives and techniques. Its accomplishment lies in taking those disparate elements and getting them to all hang together in a consolidated work. The delight in listening to it is the expectation that the next track will contain something really special, but not knowing what that is until it arrives.
It would be simplistic to call pianist Francesco Turrisi an experimenter, though his music embraces myriad cultural influences, from his native Italy through the length and breadth of the Mediterranean, straddling the centuries, and imbibing from sources as diverse as baroque, Moorish airs and jazz; simplistic, because his music flows as naturally as a river follows its bed—it is in Turrisi and of him, and it guides him. As on Turrisi’s memorable debut, Si Dolce e il Tormento (Diatribe, 2009), there is no sense of striving to fuse, no sense of painstaking construction; on Fotografia, there is instead, a very natural sounding confluence of ideas and emotions.
Though Fotografia shares the same neo-classical, folk-tinged, fringes-of-jazz adventurism of Turrisi’s debut, it’s a darker, more impressionistic offering, and seemingly more conceptual as a whole. Inspired by the Italian tradition of encouraging children to sketch pensierini—little thoughts—Turrisi creates sonic edifices around various themes, sympathetically and intuitively supported by drummer João Lobo and acoustic bassist Claus Kaarsgaard. The titles—”I Am The Shadow Man,” “Remorse,” “A Thousand Pieces,” “Ants,” “Towards the Depths”—are suggestive of the sometimes somber impressionism in these vignettes, though lyricism of aching beauty lies embedded throughout Fotografia.
Seven pensierini run from the ten-second fractural idiosyncrasy of “Pensierino 1, in mille pezze,” to the strangely weightless “Pensierino 7, verso il basso,” which features Turrisi on piano innards and beautiful bass figures from Kaarsgaard. In between, there are dramatic chords, moody arco and tinkling percussion on the vaguely sinister “Pensierino 2, Sono l’uomo ombra” and the melancholy of “Pensierino 3, rimorso,” with Lobo’s slow walking bass suggesting sad self-absorption. Turris’s rapid, repeated motif on “Pensierino 4, formicai” conveys the head-down relentlessness of an ant on a mission, whereas “Pensierino 5, scarabocchio” has a start-stop, scurrying quality. Pensierino 6, il lago fantasma” holds a serene yet ghostly ambience in its baroque frame.
Rather than string these pensierini together in a continuous suite, Turrisi breaks them up with short flights of lyrical imagination. Solo piano “Fotografia 1″ exudes contemplative stillness, though it’s not without an absorbing energy. There’s more of a narrative to “Fotografia 2,” with its Mediterranean blues, and it’s somehow old and modern simultaneously. A folksy rendition of “Luiza” captures Antonio Carlos Jobim‘s blues vein, with Turrisi’s sparingly used left hand resting altogether. “Pensierosa (for Helen) hovers between meditative and classically grand, and the undeniably moving “Lachrimae” has the uncommon beauty of a Beethoven Piano Sonata—though, again, it is essentially a haunting blues.
At the midpoint, and bookending these reflective pieces, are three traditional Italian compositions inspired by singer Pino de Vittorio’s interpretations. Kaarsgaard’s brooding arco is protagonist on the first half of “Alla Caprinese,” which moves from dark to light as Turrisi’s feathery lyricism illuminates the piece. “Attaccati li Tricci” I & II highlight Turrisi’s lovely, tumbling Arabesque lines, and penchant for conjuring with simple melodies.
Less immediately accessible than Turrisi’s first CD, Fotographia, is, nevertheless, totally absorbing and points to an artist who refuses to stand still. The shading, nuance and emotional depth make for a captivating journey.
Francesco Turrisi /
Fotografia
2011
Format
Tracklisting
Description
Fotografia is the second album by Italian (Dublin resident) pianist Francesco Turrisi for Diatribe Records. Turrisi presents an original blend of contemporary European jazz influenced by Baroque music and Mediterranean traditional music in an album featuring intimate piano trio alongside piano solo performances. The album contains original compositions by Turrisi and arrangements of Italian traditional melodies as well as a series of short improvisations on a baroque bass line called “ciaccona” performed here by an exceptional rhythm section comprised of Portuguese drummer Joao Lobo and Danish bass player Claus Kaarsgaard. Released 1st July 2011.Reviews
Fotografia Diatribe **** In his most ambitious CD yet, the gifted pianist/composer explores Italian folk songs, Jobim, his own originals and, with Claus Kaarsgaard (bass) and João Lobo (drums), makes use of the form and freedoms conferred by a baroque bass line for a series of musical miniatures ( pensierini ). These baroque-referencing snapshots, gripping trio mood pieces, variously shardlike, sombre, minatory, faintly mocking or childlike, take this fine album to one place. However, in a contrast perhaps too great for one album, the CD’s most completely realised performances move it to another place with the much longer, sharply differentiated takes of A ttaccati li Tricci and Alla Carpinese – folk songs whose melodramatic darkness is persuasively and imaginatively embraced – and the beautifully articulated, moving personal solo tributes to Turrisi’s partner and father in Pensierosa and Lachrimae . See diatribe.com—
Encouraging experimentation is the lifeblood of jazz. It keeps the music vital and ensures that new voices get to have their say. The minute the music becomes a museum relic, played through a fixed, orthodox interpretation, is the moment it dies an ignominious death. Thank goodness, then, for musicians like pianist Francesco Turrisi, who embraces creative experimentation on Fotographia.This collection of fifteen vignettes periodically employs bassist Claus Kaarsgaard and percussionist Joao Lobo. But for the most part, it’s Turrisi’s show. His approach has a graceful, classical sensibility to it, even when he’s playing atonally. His light, refined touch conveys subtle purpose whether he’s playing straight or far out.
The compositions and improvisations are derived from a variety of inspirations, including Pensierini, which are short children’s essays—primary school assignments—that Turrisi uses conceptually as a musical exercise. These seven spontaneously improvised trio pieces, scattered throughout the album, are the freest, most avant works, but they also present a range of approaches. Two employ random plunking; one is a melancholy dirge, reminiscent of a Frederic Chopin Nocturne; another becomes a mechanical pattern of pianistic industrialism. Some are jarring and angular, and some are jewel-like in their petite splendor. The breadth of ideas presented within the concept is remarkable.
The other tracks on Fotographia are a mix of Italian traditional songs, Turrisi’s own compositions, and Antonio Carlos Jobim‘s “Luiza.” The title track is a slow, spacious echo, employing silence around the notes, building slowly into a chord structure. “Pensierosa” is a melodic exploration of waving chords and arpeggios that presents an almost bucolic soundscape. It’s a beautiful piece that showcases Turrisi’s classical sensibility and lyrical composing abilities.
Fotographia can be a challenging record, but it can also be very rewarding. It’s brilliance lies in the variety of its musical perspectives and techniques. Its accomplishment lies in taking those disparate elements and getting them to all hang together in a consolidated work. The delight in listening to it is the expectation that the next track will contain something really special, but not knowing what that is until it arrives.
— All About Jazz - Greg Simmons
It would be simplistic to call pianist Francesco Turrisi an experimenter, though his music embraces myriad cultural influences, from his native Italy through the length and breadth of the Mediterranean, straddling the centuries, and imbibing from sources as diverse as baroque, Moorish airs and jazz; simplistic, because his music flows as naturally as a river follows its bed—it is in Turrisi and of him, and it guides him. As on Turrisi’s memorable debut, Si Dolce e il Tormento (Diatribe, 2009), there is no sense of striving to fuse, no sense of painstaking construction; on Fotografia, there is instead, a very natural sounding confluence of ideas and emotions.Though Fotografia shares the same neo-classical, folk-tinged, fringes-of-jazz adventurism of Turrisi’s debut, it’s a darker, more impressionistic offering, and seemingly more conceptual as a whole. Inspired by the Italian tradition of encouraging children to sketch pensierini—little thoughts—Turrisi creates sonic edifices around various themes, sympathetically and intuitively supported by drummer João Lobo and acoustic bassist Claus Kaarsgaard. The titles—”I Am The Shadow Man,” “Remorse,” “A Thousand Pieces,” “Ants,” “Towards the Depths”—are suggestive of the sometimes somber impressionism in these vignettes, though lyricism of aching beauty lies embedded throughout Fotografia.
Seven pensierini run from the ten-second fractural idiosyncrasy of “Pensierino 1, in mille pezze,” to the strangely weightless “Pensierino 7, verso il basso,” which features Turrisi on piano innards and beautiful bass figures from Kaarsgaard. In between, there are dramatic chords, moody arco and tinkling percussion on the vaguely sinister “Pensierino 2, Sono l’uomo ombra” and the melancholy of “Pensierino 3, rimorso,” with Lobo’s slow walking bass suggesting sad self-absorption. Turris’s rapid, repeated motif on “Pensierino 4, formicai” conveys the head-down relentlessness of an ant on a mission, whereas “Pensierino 5, scarabocchio” has a start-stop, scurrying quality. Pensierino 6, il lago fantasma” holds a serene yet ghostly ambience in its baroque frame.
Rather than string these pensierini together in a continuous suite, Turrisi breaks them up with short flights of lyrical imagination. Solo piano “Fotografia 1″ exudes contemplative stillness, though it’s not without an absorbing energy. There’s more of a narrative to “Fotografia 2,” with its Mediterranean blues, and it’s somehow old and modern simultaneously. A folksy rendition of “Luiza” captures Antonio Carlos Jobim‘s blues vein, with Turrisi’s sparingly used left hand resting altogether. “Pensierosa (for Helen) hovers between meditative and classically grand, and the undeniably moving “Lachrimae” has the uncommon beauty of a Beethoven Piano Sonata—though, again, it is essentially a haunting blues.
At the midpoint, and bookending these reflective pieces, are three traditional Italian compositions inspired by singer Pino de Vittorio’s interpretations. Kaarsgaard’s brooding arco is protagonist on the first half of “Alla Caprinese,” which moves from dark to light as Turrisi’s feathery lyricism illuminates the piece. “Attaccati li Tricci” I & II highlight Turrisi’s lovely, tumbling Arabesque lines, and penchant for conjuring with simple melodies.
Less immediately accessible than Turrisi’s first CD, Fotographia, is, nevertheless, totally absorbing and points to an artist who refuses to stand still. The shading, nuance and emotional depth make for a captivating journey.
— All About Jazz - Ian Patterson