Alter Jinga 2022
Aiòn
Locating melodious layers in wordless paeans to various enigmas, vocal acrobat sees an infinite truth.
Trying to color-code one’s music may smell of synesthesia, yet for Giorgio Pinardi such an approach to artwork signifies the mood of songs comprising a particular platter: the crepuscular bleakness of his solo debut “Yggdrasill” from 2015, the natural vitality of 2019’s "Mictlán" and now the full-blooded dramatism of its follow-up. The aspect the Italian singer’s method doesn’t overtly spell out is nuances in his a cappella summoning of a certain idiom that non-verbally connotate the imagery created under GP’s MEvsMYSELF auspices. Of course, the details host many a devil in the case of “Aiòn” whose title must allude to eternity of life and whose theme seems to be secret senses of words – the meanings concealed from people who don’t speaking the language this term originated in.
However, conjuring up those mysteries will only enrich the savoring of tuneful pieces that Pinardi’s sculpted from delectable syllables and vocal inflections on the evocative likes of shamanic, ululating “Yielbongura” or mesmeric, elated “Sgriob” which lead the listener from West Africa to North Britain and further on, where the stunning spectrum of Giorgio’s voices shine around in phenomenal polyphony and honeyed harmony to tell stories without actually going down to narrative and using various techniques to paint characters. The result is sometimes unexpected to say the least, as the sounds emanating from the artist’s mouth can take a shape of guitar effects and synthesizer riffs, when they’re pitched through his throat, so occasional beatboxing feels quite simple in this context, while the faux flute-and-falsetto framing of “Hyggelig” has fusion written all over its lightweight dance, and the effervescent histrionics of “Leys” are hilarious and exquisite in equal measure.
So if the festive echoes of “Waldeinsamkeit” simultaneously oppose and support what’s translated from German as “the feeling of being alone in the woods” and the arresting tropical noises of “Rwty” play with the “Are we there yet” acronym, “Kamtar” opts for an Apennine-styled, mellifluous weave of melodic lines, and percussive, repetitive spin of “aPHasSia” hints at ancient chemistry and lingual issues at the same time. The last number comes the closest to the album’s concept but its finale “Nèkya” gets the blues and robotic speech to evaporate all the vestiges of artificial semantics which the uninitiated should find alienating. Vice versa, “Aiòn” is as alluring as any enigma and as grandiose as any masterpiece out there.
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