Review Summary: "the plumage of an angel, the voice of a devil, and the guts of a thief."
It can be intriguing to observe an artist’s maturation in real time, album by album. Often, any dissection is purely speculative, but that’s part of the fun. We treat musicians like simulacra of actual humans beings, pseudo-psychoanalysis abound. An album can’t just be an album - personal context is heaped on, like trying to somehow fit a pound of sand onto a spoon. I’m not implying that this is bad, or meant to be a true misattribution of the artist, so much as it’s us, as observers, taking some artistic liberty of our own in trying to map the headspace. Things get a bit more dubious when it comes to retrospective material. And, even more so when unpacking someone like Italian prog legend Arturo Stalteri. Stalteri’s work, to me, always seemed grounded in something, somewhere, yet yielded very little for me to grasp with much certainty. His work with avant-prog/folk group
Pierrot Lunaire, whose name is derived from Schoenberg, is steeped in a love of fantasy and pastoral, medieval colours inspired by England’s Canterbury scene. (Fun fact: Pierrot Lunaire are included in the
Nurse With Wound list: http://nwwlist.org .) Their sophomore effort,
Gudrun, considered their masterpiece, sees them transcend their folklore. It feels like a bizarre historical revisionism, like J.R.R. Tolkien editing his favourite mythological works into historical non-fiction. Remarkably, when we arrive at Stalteri’s solo material, despite a more singular, realized vision, he doesn’t get much easier to peg down.
…e il pavone parlò alla Luna (originally recorded in 1980, now reissued by Soave Records), sometimes feels like a touchstone for ‘70s-inspired Italian prog, but expands far beyond with its usage of musique concrete and minimalism. Also, allegedly Stalteri was inspired by some time spent in India, and the raga influence permeates the album with a meditative pastiche. “Raga Occidentale” is unique in how it incorporates classical Indian music, as opposed to just the more common influence of Western Classical in prog. The organ melody is very foundational and repetitive, evoking a trance. It’s difficult to describe the emotion of the song, which is kinda the point. There is an otherworldly, out-of-body emotion that has very little to do with the individual’s inner workings. It has a dual effect of making the listener feel large and all-knowing, yet small and oblivious. The trance is interrupted by Stalteri’s bright piano work, which switches between delicately focused and brash.
Throughout
…e il pavone parlò alla Luna, we get contrasts like this, where the song seems to balance its attention between different foci. Songs like “Goa Di Fronte All’Oceano” and “La Pescatrice di Perle” envision a rich landscape and community that seems fuelled by centuries of lore, yet bears the anxiety of new awakenings amidst uncertainty. “Goa Di Fronte All’Oceano” sounds like a Final Fantasy instrumental, albeit much more nuanced, in how it seems to accompany a majestic kingdom with darkness at its doorstep, and little reassurance that it won’t be torn asunder. In contrast, opener “Morceau” and midpoint “Mulini” feature spritely ragtime tack piano and ear-tickling electronics, with the latter number descending the rabbit whole into spacey psychedelia; the track offers respite in a physical sense, but the mental toll looms like a debt collector.
Many of our favourite albums deserve praise for how they seem to coincide with our life, rationalizing it all.
…e il pavone parlò alla Luna is special in how it seems to do the opposite, yet still be powerful and evocative. The songs often seem to reach for an emotional Holy Grail, where closure isn’t a given, but something earned through careful meditation. Stalteri doesn’t offer clear guidance, and has this effect of distancing himself as a person from the work, putting the listener at the helm to pull the sword from the stone. When closer “Nel Palazzo Dei Venti” pours into the open air, there are breaths of rejuvenation and the psychological weight of the journey lightening enough to allow for much-needed personal reflection. It’s like arriving at the other side of a hard-fought battle with your closest friends knowing you still have a long walk home, and not really minding.
Ultimately, the sense of time-hopping wonder is
…e il pavone parlò alla Luna’s best asset for newcomers. The album is too much of a rare bird to provide clear insight into the realm of older Italian prog. Rather, the otherworldly joy gives us a sense that we aren’t just revisiting a stringent historical setting. We’re in an ever-changing panorama, and each time we move our eyes, we see something we swear wasn’t there before. Each time we think we’ve taken our last step, there’s something else just beyond reach. Despite his diligence and craftsmanship, Arturo Stalteri’s masterpiece feels like the listener’s
ultima Thule.
