La Casa Sulla Luna
Modern classical with more than just piano allows more than just slightly poignant unfurlings. Bruno Bavota meanwhile has a strong sense of incandescent rhythm. He takes repeated phrases to magical places. Just like on “Il Dito Si Muove Sul Vetro Appanato”, where cello and violin compliment the short flurries of melody with an earnest, intimate ear. Power is produced from the stop and start nature of Bavota’s music. It’s as if he’s toying with a roulette wheel only to spin it into a dab hand.
The emotions of this piece on the album are particularly strong, like a gust of wind blowing over a carefully decorated table. But that description only serves to compartmentalise the music as blustery fare, and it’s so much more than that. Take where Bruno keys the A note with C repetition on every fifth to spellbinding effect. Comparisons to pianists like Nils Frahm and Library Tapes are favourable. On “C’e Un Cinema Laggiu” there is a real aura of unfinished business, like a card deal struck at that roulette wheel earlier on.
“Seguimi, Amore” takes the theme of love to a placid yet driving realm with incredibly fluent piano playing, like collared doves tapping on the top of a shed roof. The narrative arcs toward a softer conclusion, hanging over its last minor note with perfect restraint. “Cielo Blu Notte” introduces a gorgeous minor chord cello line with violin bringing up the rear and investing the track with an energetic quietude. Sprinkles of notes, no matter how varied they come and go, always reach a resolution that doesn’t jar the listener, a resounding theme that Bruno Bavota carries through “La Casa Sulla Luna”, his second album with great success.