Meeting Giorgia (aka Metuo)- May 2007
In the month May of 2007, Pati Oliva gave my address to a young girl from Puglia, who lived in Florence: her name Giorgia Angiuli, as an artist Metuo. She sent a mail in which she asked for help, as she wanted to come to Berlin and play some places.
One mail exchange lead to another, and at the end it was me who arrived at her house in Florence, before she got to the German capital. Since I had lived in Florence for quite some years at the beginning of the nineties, this visit was also a kind of come back. Giorgia lived in an apartment near Santa Croce, sharing it with Mateo the double bass player and Asia, whose smiles and laughters filled every room.
We didn't see too much of each other. I accompanied her one day to a studio outside town, and could witness that studio engineers might have a good sense of rhythm, but also know how to turn an enjoyable tune into sonic yoghurt. I teased Giorgia that going on like this she would end up at San Remo, the place on the Italian Riviera where the annual festival for light music is held, a heavily mediatic event that offers an insight on how to get a headache when listening to the Italian radio.
I stayed a few days, before travelling further to Spain. ( I took a ferry from Civitavecchia to Barcelona). In those days I enjoyed their kitchen with its sharp springtime light, I enjoyed walking around the old centre with its peculiar smell, that is a bit between Holy Water, cleaning liquid and a living room. I strolled along the Arno, where young couples still sit on walls and steal each others kisses. The cars passed slowly, bumping and hopping over the cobbled stones. I had wine and no ice cream in the evening, and walked the scarcely lit streets like I had done so many times.
My adagium is when you can talk with someone you can also play with someone. I found out that I could perfectly talk and not talk with Giorgia, and even not see her, while I was her guest. But it was sure to both of us that we could play together.
When she came to Berlin we played at Gelegenheiten, a small bar in Neukölln, and got so delighted with this that we walked straight to Wendel to ask if we could play again. We found some serious improvisers, who still had to play two sets. When we came back a few hours later, we noticed that three quarters of the audience had already gone. Nonetheless we played, but - alas- the drummer hadn't dismantled his drumkit, and joined us after ten minutes to fuck up the concert completely. When I finally had chased him away with some bad looks he shouted in my ear:"you call this music, listen to this, can't you hear how bad it is?" Which made me think why he joined us in the first place, maybe an act of terrorism?
One mail exchange lead to another, and at the end it was me who arrived at her house in Florence, before she got to the German capital. Since I had lived in Florence for quite some years at the beginning of the nineties, this visit was also a kind of come back. Giorgia lived in an apartment near Santa Croce, sharing it with Mateo the double bass player and Asia, whose smiles and laughters filled every room.
We didn't see too much of each other. I accompanied her one day to a studio outside town, and could witness that studio engineers might have a good sense of rhythm, but also know how to turn an enjoyable tune into sonic yoghurt. I teased Giorgia that going on like this she would end up at San Remo, the place on the Italian Riviera where the annual festival for light music is held, a heavily mediatic event that offers an insight on how to get a headache when listening to the Italian radio.
I stayed a few days, before travelling further to Spain. ( I took a ferry from Civitavecchia to Barcelona). In those days I enjoyed their kitchen with its sharp springtime light, I enjoyed walking around the old centre with its peculiar smell, that is a bit between Holy Water, cleaning liquid and a living room. I strolled along the Arno, where young couples still sit on walls and steal each others kisses. The cars passed slowly, bumping and hopping over the cobbled stones. I had wine and no ice cream in the evening, and walked the scarcely lit streets like I had done so many times.
My adagium is when you can talk with someone you can also play with someone. I found out that I could perfectly talk and not talk with Giorgia, and even not see her, while I was her guest. But it was sure to both of us that we could play together.
When she came to Berlin we played at Gelegenheiten, a small bar in Neukölln, and got so delighted with this that we walked straight to Wendel to ask if we could play again. We found some serious improvisers, who still had to play two sets. When we came back a few hours later, we noticed that three quarters of the audience had already gone. Nonetheless we played, but - alas- the drummer hadn't dismantled his drumkit, and joined us after ten minutes to fuck up the concert completely. When I finally had chased him away with some bad looks he shouted in my ear:"you call this music, listen to this, can't you hear how bad it is?" Which made me think why he joined us in the first place, maybe an act of terrorism?
picture by ninah pixieAnyway, we got another chance to play together when Big City Orchestra hit Berlin. I had been exchanging mails with Ninah Pixie, and this got us the gig at the Zentrale Randlage as a support to them. Meeting Ninah, Melissa and the great dAS was a west coast exquisiteness, but playing with Giorgia at the Zentrale Randlage over a good speaker system was magic. We created a wall of sound, Giorgia got her rhytms and melodies in, and a incredible flow of songs unfolded themselves like big flowers. They landed on the lap of everyone in the audience: it was sheer happyness that made feet go tapatap, and lips curl into a smile. For sure one of the best concerts I did in 2007.
Grazie grande Monopolitana!
Grazie grande Monopolitana!
posted by rinus @ 4:41 AM
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