The new cd: ALMABLAVA
“I return to Alghero, back to my people...
The earth is a primordial force, a passionate kiss that never leaves you…”
To return and love stronger. To return to love and serenade it, because each of the smallest things in life responds and corresponds to you. Nothing is simpler: when I sing, I find myself and my abstracted soul recognizes me.
Feeling Sardinian, Catalan from Alghero, and Italian naturally inspires me to identify as a “Mediterranean woman”, and a very privileged woman to be the daughter of such complex simplicity. From where does this privilege come? From where does this consciousness arrive, from what does this feeling that life is a gift arise? I have reflected a lot. I have often thought about this curious way of conjugating one’s own existence, and I have realized that it is all born from something very simple yet immensely profound. It is born from my roots. Roots are what is given to you by the way in which your parents show you how to ‘breath’ in life itself, by your way of being in the world, and –above all–, in your homeland, the land where you were raised…
My motherland is Sardinia, and my home is Alghero. The sea is my second mother and the mountains that protect it are like the strength of a father. I was born in spring, and each time that I remember this, I fall even further in love with the immense blue that reflects the light that envelops me and reveals all, restoring my island’s truth.
I am this island’s daughter; and maybe that is why I know how to listen to the sea when it speaks to me, when it denies me my dreams, when it steals my soul, constraining me to live in permanent waiting. And, I wait anxiously for someone or something that will arrive by sea, sooner or later, whenever possible, if at all possible. It may be for that reason that I know how to accept the wind when it foils all my plans, or when it shouts things at me which I sometimes don’t want to feel, rattling my ideas, my feelings, turning them tempestuous and confusing. It is then that I must balance the day each evening, with the bloodstained rocks at sunset in a deafening silence, every night, when the last wound finishes off the day. By sea one arrives and by sea one departs, and that is why the eyes of my people, my foundation, have always looked to it, tirelessly.
It must be for that reason that moon is my sister, and she knows everything about me, along with the sky, the only one who dominates my sea at all times.
There comes a day when all of this enters deep inside you and you can never free yourself from it. There comes a day in which you realize that such an introspective, almost metaphysical life becomes your destiny. And, you fully understand that it all makes sense. If you retell it, if you reveal it to others and you translate it into language, into your own language—a language that has existed centuries, inside this sea, amidst these rocks, in this wind, in this moon, in this city, on this island.
That is why I sing. That is why I love, laugh and cry when I sing. My voice becomes an instrument which allows me to transfer a small bit of life to others, a tiny angle of the world, my little garden. For that is how one truly becomes universal and is able to ‘embrace’ the heart of others in the hope of sharing a piece of poetry which is hidden within all of us as we run, as we rush about, as we struggle, often without truly understanding why.
So I say: Yes, this is all a privilege. And, everything comes back around. It all comes back to a place of which I had once dreamt—a place made of towering rocks amidst an intense blue and an all encompassing silence… and of a woman who returned on a ship and whose voice echoed through caves and cliffs. In my dream I knew that she was singing to free herself from a profound languishing, from an infinite longing. It was therefore in a dream that I experienced a sense of both oblivion and loss—a loneliness which is as big as destiny itself, like an island. Beyond the dream, it all seemed so absurd, yet to me it was joyous.
Today, it has become my life. And, there is nothing more genuine: when I sing, I find myself and recognize my own soul. An ALMABLAVA.
REF: Franca Masu's Almablava