Paolo Angeli: Lema

Paolo Angeli has charted a singular course since Dove Dormono Gli Autobus (Erosha, 1995) introduced the Sardinian guitarist to the wider world. Back then, he juggled Sardinian guitar, classical guitar, electric bass and percussion. He soon transitioned to prepared guitar—a hybrid of guitar, cello and harp. Besides this triple threat, a typical Angeli guitar has more bells and whistles than seem plausible; pedals, hammers, mini-propellers, acoustic-electric duality and electronics combine to create a guitar- orchestra of extraordinary possibilities. It requires exceptional hands and conceptual vision, two of the hallmarks of Lema. On this, his 14th solo album, Angeli explores themes of transition and rebirth, identity and belonging, loss and the healing power of nature.

Since Nijar (ReR Megacorp/AnMa Productions, 2023)—his flamenco-tinged tribute to Federico Garcia Lorca—Angeli has begun using an updated guitar crafted by Cremona luthiers Micheluttis, and modified by Sardinia-based Oran Guitars. Keen followers of Angeli might intuit that one or two of his trademark sounds have made way for new timbres. Increasingly prominent, too, is his voice—fragile and keening—which intones poetry spanning centuries. The magic resides in the blending of uncommon technical innovation with Angeli's broad-reaching and affecting musical palette: Sardinian folk, African and Arabic flavors, flamenco and post-rock combine enticingly—the confluence of centuries of Mediterranean exchange.

The music unfolds as a continuous suite, one piece bleeding seamlessly into the next. Motif and counter motif run parallel over organ-esque drone. From shimmering sitar-esque strains to Asian-zither sonorities, Angeli's strings hint at worldly influences that reflect not just the tides of history but his own global travels. Ominous bass pulses underpin surges of psychedelic fuzz and rising waves of electronic white noise. Tradition, modernity, simplicity and complexity are in a constant state of flux.

Strong rhythmic contours and clearly defined melody—important parts of Angeli's vocabulary—are heard to good effect on "Mavi," with its dominant bass pulse, brightly picked acoustic guitar and lyrical cello lines. The mood changes as white noise, electric guitar, and vocals conjure emotional turbulence. Angeli's passionate rendering of Gallurese poet Petr' Alluttu's 19th-century ode to his late mother resolves in gently spun acoustic reverie, and song whispered like a prayer.

Loss and resilience go hand-in-hand in "Nakba," Angeli's response to Refaat Alareer's poem "If I Must Die." In Arabic nakba means "catastrophe" and refers to the 1948 war with Israel, which displaced over 700,000 Palestinians from their lands. Angeli's mournful rendition pays tribute to Alareer, the Gazan poet, professor and activist killed by an Israeli airstrike in another catastrophic war—along with five relatives—in December 2023. As with all the poems Angeli interprets on Lema, the words are sung in the Gallurese dialect of northern Sardinia. Originally penned in English, Alareer's poem has been translated into around 80 languages and dialects—a powerful and moving testament to Palestinian defiance.

Angeli signs off with a percussive nod to Sun Ra—though resists the temptation to tackle the Alabaman's Afro-futurist poetry—for now. While Angeli has long-incorporated poetry and disparate musical textures into his compositions, Lema feels like a synthesis of his journey to date. Technically impressive, undoubtedly, but it is the raw emotional currency in Angeli's playing and singing that leaves the deepest mark.

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