 In May 2019, I met Andrea Camilleri at his home in Rome, in the Prati district. I was greeted at the door by his daughter Mariolina, while he waited silently for me in another room, sitting at his desk. Camilleri was 93 years old, and he was now completely blind. When I looked into the room, the direction of his absent gaze was forward, towards the wall. I will never forget the gesture he made as soon as he heard me enter: an energetic, warm hand outstretched towards me, waiting for me to reach out and shake it, and then the first words, “What can I do for you?”. And with these words and this hand, Camilleri made me sit next to him, ready to listen to me and as an equal, to a young cellist he had just met. Of that afternoon around the table, there remains a recording, a testimony of a man who cited everything by heart – even with a few amusing misquotes –, who willingly put himself at the disposal of his fellow man, who lived his profundity with the generosity and simplicity of one who is truly Great. This project juxtaposes recordings of Camilleri’s voice with music improvised by the cello with live electronics. Granulation of the sound, multiplication, work on the harmonic spectra, distortions, each piece tries in an abstract way to enter the meanderings of the themes – both compelling and extremely topical – that Camilleri speaks of, in a small sonic journey full of affection and gratitude. For this reason, this album has no title on the cover: it would be like giving a title to a recollection, a thought or a memory. Memories cannot be given titles. One lives to retain them within oneself and hoping, at best, to be able to share them with one’s fellows. (Michele Marco Rossi)
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