There’s always a lovely melodicism to Italian minimalist music. Lately, I’ve been fascinated by the works of little known Italian record label Stile Librero for that reason. Let me introduce you to a slice of this spirit, through the work of harpist Andrea Piazza who released his gorgeous debut album dubbed Tirtaganga on it.
Taking its name from a deliberate misspelling of the name Tirta Gangga, a former royal palace in Bali, Indonesia, this album lays bare Andrea’s half-year of reimagining his harp technique towards a new direction. Hypnotic, given to leaving modalities, only to revolve around some beautiful piece of soothing tone, the texture and melodies on Tirtaganga sound of all the territories Andrea was interested in.
Andrea Piazza began his musical career studying Italian folk centered around his native Tuscany and touched-on locales like Umbria or Lazio, at the University of Rome he also introduced himself to the forgotten Breton harp techniques being rediscovered by European neo-folk artists. In the late ’70s he joined pioneering next-wave folk musicians like Paolo Modugno to found progressive folk group Malvasia. Within that group he was able to craft harp-led songs that drew from African, Iberian, and Celtic tradition.
Afterward, early stints teaching Italian folk music led him to lay down tracks tying Irish traditionals to newly minted Italian originals. In 1988, Andrea pushed himself to explore territory completely foreign to him.
Taking a six month sojourn through Indonesia with a small travel harp, Andrea encountered the intriguing sound of the sasando and sasando-led music. Adapting the ideas and technique of that small portable zither-like instrument to his own, Andrea came back to Italy to create something that sounded unlike anything he’d done before.
Less ornate and mannered, on Tirtaganga, Andrea simply let the harp flow in such a way that seemed more interested in developing textures than embellishing them through rococo flourishes. A shift to the sasando way of performing drove it there.
Filled with quite delicate electronic overtones and very tasteful deviations, on songs like the title track, you can hear how it touches on building beyond the minimalism this label was known for and heading into lesser pointed sources for inspiration. On others, like “Jimbaran” or “La Neve”, Andrea picks up the pace to impart a streaking form of impressionist music (with deft electronic and enviromental musical touches) that sounds positively timeless. Gorgeous and quite spacious to hear on any quiet morning, it’s an album that tends to move you via a soft touch. It’s personal in a way that Sylvan Grey‘s own work with the kantele once was, as well.
Nowadays, this album is extremely rare to find, but that hasn’t stopped Andrea from performing parts of it (along with the rest of his, sadly small, out of print, recorded catalog) on the plazas of San Gimignano or in the church courtyards of Tuscany. With all this being said, let’s hope someone can be kind enough to get this back in print. Precious stuff like this, as always, lately, seems like it needs more care than it does.