When I was first a guest at ‘I Suoni delle Dolomiti’, performing as a duo with Antonello Salis and then with the Tunisian Dhafer Youssef, I sensed the immense grandeur of the mountains. But this time, the experience of the sunrises (shared with Marco Paolini and Stefano Benni) touched me so deeply that I felt part of ‘nothingness’. Yes, nothing! Because you wake up at five in the morning, open the door of the mountain hut, and find yourself facing hundreds of people who have rigorously and stoically hiked up to that place, not just to hear you play, but to be part of that place with you.
So in the end, it’s not about us. For once, we’re not the protagonists or the divas of the stage, and above all, there are no spotlights on us. We’re just an instrument at the mercy of that sensuality which is the mountain and which, on the towers of Vajolét, grants or denies you that echo you’re waiting for but cannot control or program with a digital delay or reverb.
It’s that bracing morning air that wakes you up and invigorates you, but at the same time, as Marco Paolini said, it’s so pure that as you bring the mouthpiece of your trumpet or flugelhorn to your lips, you feel like you’re kissing a gutter…
Paolo Fresu