Search:the visionaries

With this new work Maurizio Abate recovers the discourse started with Loneliness, Desire and Revenge (2016) but with a different narrative sensitivity. The symbolic air that you breathe suggests a personal and universal experience in which thoughts and perceptions remain as enveloped in an eternal cosmic wheel. It's a condition that flows sincerely into an emphatic introspection and identification between the stasis of an inner soul and the flowing vitality of stagnant aquatic landscapes. In this direction the music of Abate always condenses multiple ranges of different emotional spectra evoked by profound naturalistic references. The airy openings of the strings, the distant whispers of the harmonica, cascades of phrasings more calm or more torrential can lead into the magnificent climax of the Nostalgia. The string arrangement for violin and cello by Lucia Gasti introduces in a dimension of idyll, in elegiac passages of touching poetry almost of chamber music but at the same time wet by the pastoral and bucolic moods of autumn landscapes, they are paintings imbued with different flavors and colours that recall the light and the candor of the Venetian tonalisms or the moving paintings full of meaning of Tarkoski. In the darkest and saddest moments the open chords are like suspensions of unresolved questions and torments, but the cathartic finale with a free and minimalist piano prelude to possible future glares, almost to perceiving that even where there's stasis the sun can still shine the hope for the new on the clearing of the pond. Remains the feeling with that stylistic "freedom of expression" dear to the visionaries Fahey and Basho, but also a clear interpretation of the expressive possibility of the lead guitar, absolutely lyrical and contemporary for refinement of the crystalline sound, which places this work in parallel with the basic acoustic tests of others great like Jim O'Rourke, Jack Rose or James Blackshaw.

One can hardly imagine the genre-busting, culture-crossing musical magic of Outkast, Prince, Erykah Badu, Rick James, The Roots, or even the early Red Hot Chili Peppers without the influence of R&B pioneer Betty Davis. Her style of raw and revelatory punk-funk defies any notions that women can’t be visionaries in the worlds of rock and pop. In recent years, rappers from Ice Cube to Talib Kweli to Ludacris have rhymed over her intensely strong but sensual music.



There is one testimonial about Betty Davis that is universal: she was a woman ahead of her time. In our contemporary moment, this may not be as self-evident as it was thirty years ago – we live in an age that’s been profoundly changed by flamboyant flaunting of female sexuality: from Parlet to Madonna, Lil Kim to Kelis. Yet, back in 1973 when Betty Davis first showed up in her silver go-go boots, dazzling smile and towering Afro, who could you possibly have compared her to? Marva Whitney had the voice but not the independence. Labelle wouldn’t get sexy with their “Lady Marmalade” for another year while Millie Jackson wasn’t Feelin’ Bitchy until 1977. Even Tina Turner, the most obvious predecessor to Betty’s fierce style wasn’t completely out of Ike’s shadow until later in the decade.



Ms. Davis’s unique story, still sadly mostly unknown, is unlike any other in popular music. Betty wrote the song “Uptown” for the Chambers Brothers before marrying Miles Davis in the late ’60s, influencing him with psychedelic rock, and introducing him to Jimi Hendrix — personally inspiring the classic album Bitches Brew.



But her songwriting ability was way ahead of its time as well. Betty not only wrote every song she ever recorded and produced every album after her first, but the young woman penned the tunes that got The Commodores signed to Motown. The Detroit label soon came calling, pitching a Motown songwriting deal, which Betty turned down. Motown wanted to own everything. Heading to the UK, Marc Bolan of T. Rex urged the creative dynamo to start writing for herself. A common thread throughout Betty’s career would be her unbending Do-It-Yourself ethic, which made her quickly turn down anyone who didn’t fit with the vision. She would eventually say no to Eric Clapton as her album producer, seeing him as too banal.



Her 1974 sophomore album They Say I’m Different features a worthy-of-framing futuristic cover challenging David Bowie’s science fiction funk with real rocking soul-fire, kicked off with the savagely sexual “Shoo-B-Doop and Cop Him” (later sampled by Ice Cube). Her follow up is full of classic cuts like “Don’t Call Her No Tramp” and the hilarious, hard, deep funk of “He Was A Big Freak.”