Italy is steeped in culture. It has been the seat of awesome and terrible power and fallen into deep poverty; it is the country which saw the expansion of arts, opera and composition. Theories of the origins of the Universe have been developed by its scholars and its architecture shows the influence of many different hands, from Moorish hints in the south to the vast modern piazzas and linear streets of the northern cities. It is a country of contrasts in the wealth of the regions, the diversity of its food and the warmth of its people. There is unrest, with the north looking down its Roman nose at the south with its deepening social problems, more poverty and, some would say, less cultured outlook. However, here in the southern part of the country is where you meet Italy head-to-head. Here, Italy breathes faster, moves ponderously during daytime, largely due to the relentless heat, but faster by nightand here also beats the throbbing heart of Italian jazz.
The jazz scene in southern Italy is one of contrasts, and Sorrento is a city where the contrasts show more vividly, more colorfully and more noisily than anywhere else. Here is where you can find jazz of two extremes (and much in between). Here, there is modern, streamlined jazz, presented in pristine hotel bars where drinks cost E 8.50 for 330cl of pale cold beer and guests sit facing out to sea on balconies of hotels set within vast and carefully manicured groundsfloral, beautiful, yet somehow sterile. The music at these venues is preset, preprogrammed and lack soul. It is music for the tourists with their money, their standards in taste and expectations. "Cocktail jazz"consisting of a keyboard player and an accompanying saxophonistis the standard setup in many five-star hotels. You get the distinct feeling that you are experiencing the sort of jazz shared by many thousands of customers in many hundreds of hotels, up and down the country.
However, listen closely and in the background and there beats a different rhythm; a beat filled with sweet, heaving emotion, where music pours into the streets from wandering bands. Leave the cool balconies of the sea front hotels and listen. Follow the sound into the streets and you will find something special, something which can only thrive in areas where music is a main form of expression. Go where a liter of cool beer costs E3, the price of a gig is a donation, and taking part in loud conversation is obligatory. Feel the heat away from the air conditioner and listen with your heart.
Twice or three times a week, a little magic happens in Sorrento. Walk away from the seafront with its bathing platforms, away from the tourist shops, pizzerias and restaurants lining the front and down into the seething streets of Sorrento at night. The streets heave with tourists and locals; all ages, all types are there, enjoying the relative cool of the evening and social interaction which Italians treasure so much. The air is scented with a mix of lemons (from which limoncello, a local liqueur, is made), oranges (which hang from the trees), oleander flowers and that intoxicating smell of people in hot placesa human scent, not unpleasant but not pleasant either. Noisy conversation takes place and the streets become a hive of activity. Into this, add the best street jazz band in Italy and the evening becomes almost perfect.
The members of the Michele Imoleano Band are ordinary-looking people and individually, nothing strikes the eye to make them stand out from the crowd. Together, however, they are transformed into one of the strongest, sweetest and most inspirational bands ever to venture forth on Italian streets.
The double bassist lays down a meaningful and irregular beat, the percussionist plays anything she can lay her hands on, and the guitarist and accordionist fill in with the richest cords and underpinning rhythms. The clarinetist then slowly lifts his instrument, holding it almost straight up from his mouth and begins to play. He unleashes music which makes even the most hardened cynic of nomadic street players stop in their tracks.
Tunes and riffs flow, unite, are torn apart and blended together in a well practiced yet somehow magical art. Variations of well-known tunes come and go, and just when you identify a tune it changes, seemingly with no signal at all. Gershwin, Joplin, Bizet, even Beethoven are given the jazz treatment and changed somehow into a sound which is all the band's own.
I love jazz because it expresses things so deep that I can't transform in words.
I met John Pizzarelli.
The best show I ever attended was MASP in São Paulo Brazil.
The first jazz record I bought was a Baby Dodds CD.
My heroes on drums: Papa Jo Jones, Sid Catlett, Gene Krupa, Baby Dodds, Zutty Singleton, Ray Bauduc, Vernell Fournier,
Shelly Manne, Jimmy Cobb, Joe Morello, Daniel Humair, Kenny Clarke, Sonny Carr, Buddy Rich, Sam Woodyard, Cozy Cole,
Sonny Greer, Neil Peart, Carl Palmer, Tony Sbarbaro, Vic Berton, Edison Machado, Milton Banana, Rubens Barsotti.
My heroes in jazz: Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Chet Baker, Miles Davis, Ahmad Jamal, Coleman Hawkins, Teddy Wilson,
Barney Kessel, Lester Young, Johnny Hodges, Jelly Roll Morton.