Canzoni della Cupa is a record in two parts, or rather, two sides. The side exposed to the sun, drying in the wind. The dusty side. The side of the parched remains after the wheat has been gathered. The side of the hard work demandedby that harvest, the side of sweat and exploitation.And a shadow-side, a moon-side, the side of shrubs and ghosts. The side of howls and brambles, of branches that by the moonlight bring to life creatures that slyly showup one by one and defy zoological classification. The side of the creatures of the Cupa, the Pumminale, the werewolf, the Bestia nel Grano, the beast in the wheat field. Theside of the mule drivers, who steal wood at night, the side of eloping lovers, of apparitions.This is a record in two parts, conceived a decade apart to let the brambles thicken and their roots penetrate the soil. To let the Dust generate Shadow. The first recordings took place during the dry season, in the summer of 2003. A spare, session: two violins, a cymbalon, a contrabass and a voice accompanied by the guitar...Eleven years on, the Shadow Session ensued in the Fall of 2014, which expanded well into 2015. Those songs generated new songs gathered in a spare session, that was recorded in the alleys of the Land of Echo, by the fire of the stove, in the homeland.From the eastern maternal frontier, the frontier of the Turkish rooster hidden in Liveinvolvo’s trunk, they crossed the ocean and reached that faraway frontier that the paternalbanks of the river Ofanto have always evoked in me... The West, which all here want to fuck, owning to their experience of saddles, mules, railways and showdown landscapes. From the frontier of the wolf, the valleys of Irpinia and Basilicata, to the land of the coyote, the music has been imbued with a taste of Flaco Jimenez’s Texas-Mexico borderin San Antonio, Texas, with Calexico’s Tucson desert, and with Los Lobos, the wolves that roam at night from Mexico to California.Many have come with their masterly voices and instruments to the homeland alleys: Giovanna Marini, Enza Pagliara, Antonio Infantino, la Banda della Posta, FrancescoLoccisano, Giovannangelo De Gennaro, e da più lontano Howe Gelb, Victor Herrero, Los Mariachi Mezcal, Labis Xilouris, Albert Mihai and many more, where they werewelcomed by La Cupa’s production triad: Taketo Gohara, Asso Stefana and the author himself.Every inland village across Italy – lands touched by neither sea nor city, where hamlets are surrounded by oceans of clay, earth and pitch-black nights and perched atopcliffs as if to defend themselves from the world – knows this geography of the soul.Each of these hamlets is split in two, a sunny side and a dark side, a dualism creating a motionless entity that spins in time and repeats itself eternally, like the rotation ofthe planet, of the changing seasons.Each of these hamlets have a quarter called La Cupa, where the sun rarely shines, where the unconscious has placed the Legends, and a parched side on the crest of theearth, a side marked by hard work. The side of dust and sweat. These two sides make up a circle in which time seems motionless.These songs are inspired by this world. A folkloric, rural and mythological world I have tried to depict relying partly on the pre-existing work by folk singers and composerslike Matteo Salvatore, as well as on the rich heritage of rural and traditional songs, and, above all, on the community’s epic sagas, sonnets, and rhyming verses that weresung en masse, bundling voices as one, but never written down. Others I have found inside me, searching in the steps, the alleys, the brambles and the land. All together,bundled up over the years like firewood, they have become Canzoni della Cupa. Songs that have lent me warmth and roots, fear and consolation. There is nothing reassuring in folk music, Dylan once said. And this is true. In these songs, man is exposed to the forces of the earth, to its enveloping and stranglingroots, to its sharp, piercing brambles, to the forces of the night, the cliffs of a cruel and arcane nature, to the exploitation and oppression exercised on men by men. Songsleaving you exposed to human malice and to the cruelty of the little communities. This music doesn’t leave out grief, mourning and separation, it does not set limits tothe Feast, to the abundance and excesses bordering on death. But these are also songs that restore a relationship between sky and earth, a condition in which we oftenlinger unaware, like sleepwalkers. Songs allowing us to feel cold, emotion, desire, fear, adventure, euphoria, joy, mourning and death, thus reminding us we belong in aworld that is older than us, whose face and surface have been altered by History. Yet it is still there to reminds us that we are just men on a naked land.The bleak earth that fled the sky.

PrefaCE

OMBRA (SHADOW)

Shadow is the frond produced by the roots, by the interweavingbranches generated by the Dust. It is also the side of the creatures that do not reveal themselves, the side of omens, of the birds that fly at night, the side of the stories arousing wonder and unease. Shadow is also what we leave on the ground when we leave.

POLVERE (DUST)

Dust is the froth of the earth parched by sun, wind and time. However dust is also human humus, the dust that originated

us and to which we will return. Dust are the ephemeral roots bin-ding us to the planet. These songs are exposed to the

scorching heat, the intense activity of the dust, but they are alsothe ground into which these songs sink their roots.

The “Dust” songs draw from the rich oral heritage of legends, sonnets and sayings of the hamlet of Calitri and its surroundings.

Their re-elaboration is not philological.

Names and distorted names do not refer to specific persons; they are transposed into an imaginary domain.

FemmineIl lamento dei mendicanti

La padrona miaDagarola del Carpato

L’acqua chiara alla fontanaZompa la rondinella

Franceschina la calitranaSonetti

Faccia di cornoPettarossa

Faccia di corno - L’aggiuntaNachecici

Lu furastieroRapatatumpaLa lontananza

La notte è bella da soli

La bestia nel granoScorza di muloIl Pumminale

Le creature della CupaLa notte di San GiovanniL’angelo della luceComponidoriIl bene mio

Maddalena la castellanaLo sposalizio di Maloservizio

Il lutto della sposaIl treno

CANZONI DELLA CUPAPOLVERE (DUST)

1 2

FEMMINE(WOMEN)

WOMEN... WOMEN... WOMEN...Harvesting tobaccoWomen harvesting tobacco, leaving in twos leaving in twos, and coming back four

WOMEN... WOMEN...

The farm doesn’t give you, the farm doesn’t giveyou, the farm doesn’t give you the framesThe farm doesn’t give you the frames

WOMEN... WOMEN...

Planting tobacco, planting tobacco, The sun’s set so high, the sun’s set so high and dries it all up, it dries it all up

WOMEN...

The sun’s set so high and dries it all up

WOMEN... WOMEN...

Harvesting grapesHarvesting grapesAnd under the coat, under the coatAnd under the coat, you do it on the sly,do it on the sly

WOMEN... WOMEN... WOMEN...

Gathering olives, clean them faster, clean them faster,gather them thicker, gather them thicker in the farmyardgather them thicker, gather them thicker gather them thicker in the farmyard

WOMEN... WOMEN... WOMEN...

Who told you, who told youWho told you to plant American potatoes?You’re always working and getting no doughYou’re always working and getting no dough

WOMEN...

Women gathering tobaccogathering tobacco, gathering tobaccoleaving in twos and coming back fourleaving in twos and coming back four

WOMEN... WOMEN... WOMEN...

Grinding away, grinding away and getting no breadand getting no bread and getting no bread and getting no bread

WOMEN... WOMEN... WOMEN...

Always working and getting no breadAlways working and getting no bread

WOMEN...

*inspired by the traditional singing

IL LAMENTO DEI MENDICANTI(The Trump’s Cry)

*by Matteo Salvatore, Francesco Antonellli and Adriana FascettiEd. Ala Bianca

Give some alms to these trumps What you give, we’ll takeWhat you give, is for the deadComfort the souls in purgatory!

The poor handed some The rich threw no doughOh Jesus Christ, you gotta curse themThe rich gave us no dough

Now the sack is full, off we go Our children are waiting and starvingThe dogs are approaching Our children want bread, our children want food

The dogs can scrape by no moreA dust cloud blinds their eyes And we’re left alone in the middle of the streetNo one can help us, no one can help us

As we reached our doors our children run to usThey reach for the bread in the sack Eat children of mine Eat until you are satisfied,Eat children of mine Eat until you are satisfied,

Give some alms to these trumps

3 4

Dagarola del CarpatoLA PADRONA MIA(My mistress)

When she wears her new robeShe resembles a doveFlying and flying over the grange

Instrumental

And when she goes fetching water from the sourceshe wants to make love to her ladShe lifts her breasts and shakes her headand hiiiiii...

My mistress’s just like thatWhen she wears her new robeShe resembles a doveFlying and flying over the grange

Once I saw her aloneas naked as a jaybirdShe was lying and thoughtfulMy heart is restless Ever since (2)

My mistress’s just like thatWhen she wears her new robeShe resembles a doveflying and flying over the grange

Her hair and her curls laugh on her foreheadOn her eyesand her cheeksshe seems to be wildwith wind lifting and caressing her shapes

When she walks her round breasts shakeher plump hips swayand my heart melts away This creature...when she bends I lose myself

And when she goes fetching water from the sourceshe wants to make love to her ladshe lifts her breasts and shakes her headWhat she does to him he alone knows...

My mistress’s just like that

inspired by the traditional singing

She went to mass in the morning With no necklace nor earrings,She went to Sung Mass like a bell-less cow

And in the shadow of the chapel To a Crowned Madonna she whispered soHoly Mother don’t let this happenHoly Mother don’t let this happen

She stayed an stayed and wouldn’t leave Holy Mother don’t let him dieHoly Mother don’t let him dieHoly Mother don’t let him die

Don’t you sing to Dagarola Don’t you sing to DagarolaDon’t you sing to DagarolaOr I’ll shoot you down

Don’t you sing to Dagarola Don’t you sing to DagarolaDon’t you sing to DagarolaOr I’ll shoot you down

Dagarola del CarpatoAll her curls she tore away for her Liberto was illher Liberto was ill

Don’t you sing to Dagarola, don’t you sing to Dagarola, don’t you sing to Dagarola, or I shoot you down.

She walked down the Cortino bank, holding a bread loaf She walked down the Cortino bank, holding a bread loaf

And down to the river came her motherMommy, mommy, how’s Liberto?My girl, they want to give him the last ritesMy girl, they want to give him the last rites

The two of them stood crying with their face to the wallThe two of them stood crying with their face to the wallSo cried the mother and the daughter tooSo cried the mother and the daughter too

And down came aunty Luigia Stanco“Hush, don’t weep”And down came aunty Matuccia“If Liberto dies, I’ll give you Vituccio”

Oh no, no, no, no...For Liberto we love (2)

She strode fast along the walls To hide from the songstersShe strode fast along the railings to hide form the cops

inspired by the traditional singing

5 6

ZOMPA LA RONDINELLA(Swallow’s leaps)

L’acqua chiara alla fontana(The fountain’s clear water)

Go ahead, daughter of minemake the knight happy Go ahead, daughter of mine do it because those golden coins are the only dowry this mother of yours can give you (2)

Instrumental

Midnight has come, sighed the knightWhat is troubling and bothering you, my knight?Are you regretting the coins you gave meand lost forever?

No, I don’t cry for the gold, but for the sorrow, my loveNo, I don’t cry for the gold, but for the sorrow, my loveFor it’s dawning, Come morning I’m offand with you here I’ll be no more (2)

Why are you crying, what’s troubling your heart, my knightWhy are you crying, what is troubling you in vain, my knightOn this chest of mine if you like you can lieOn this chest of mine you can lieOn this chest of mine forever you can lie On this chest of mine you can lie…

She went to the fountain’s clear waterShe went to clear waters and luckIn cool air she wentand in the shadow she metthe knight who yearned for her…

Where are you going so pretty, my lady?Where are you going so lonely?To the water I am off to gaze at my robemy spotless new robe

I wish I could drink that clear waterI wish I could drink it at least one hourThirty golden coinsI’d give youIf only I could quench this burning thirst

But I have no cup nor glass, my knightI have no cup nor glass, my knightThe burning thirst raging in your throatand drying your heart, I cannot soothe No cup or glass I wantNo cup or mug I wantTonight under the skyin your arms I wish I could lie

This I can’t tell you, my knightThis I can’t tell you aloneI’ll go ask for permission to stay To the one who made me for you

Mommy, mommy, here’s what the knight asksCan I do what he asks?Thirty golden coins are minein exchange for permission to lie with him all night under the sky.

*inspired by the traditional singing

I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so…Come again, and what will be will be I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so…Come again, and we’ll set the train on fire

Oi Filomena... a little fountain brings so much waterOi Filomena... yours are the troubles, mine is the bother Oi Filomena... come again Let’s set the train on fire

* Picone is a brook in Apulia

My daughter, you were born in the Picone*, oh noMy daughter, you were born in the Picone, oh no…You were baptized in bog’s water

On leaps the swallow, I want to love you so I want to love you, I want to love you, love you soAnd on leaps the swallow, I want to love you so

I want to love Pescatamonte no more, oh noI want to love Pescatamonte no more, oh noPescatamonte is a dog, a rabid dogOn leaps the swallow, I want to love you so I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so And on leaps the swallow, I want to love you so

I want to love Scarola Riccia no more, oh no I want to love Scarola Riccia no more, oh no Scarola Riccia drives me nutsAnd on leaps the swallow, I want to love you so I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so And on leaps the swallow, I want to love you so

To pick cherries you need a hook, oh noTo pick cherries you need a hook, oh noTo make love you need some crooks On leaps the swallow, I want to love you so I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so On leaps the swallow, I want to love you so

I don’t go to mass ‘cause I am lame, oh noI don’t go to mass ‘cause I am lame, oh noBut step-by-step I am going down to the cellar On leaps the swallow, I want to love you so I want to love you, I want to love you, love you so On leaps the swallow, I want to love you so

inspired by the traditional singing

7 8

SONETTI(Sonnets)

FRANCESCHINA LA CALITRANA(the girl from Calitri)

Franceschina the girl from Calitri The Carabinieri* are looking for herShe sports no necklace, nor petticoatBut so many tricks she knows

At the station of Ruvo Rapone, the twin lead no longer worked,Franceschina the girl from Calitri,had already done her tricks

Under the five-lights bridge, the band was playing away,Franceschina lost her wits, and kissed the foreman on the cheek and his junior, the engineer What are the workers now to do?

And the men in Rocchetta stationloved to rule her with elation Franceschina the girl from Calitrirocked the boat in the yardand with his junior, the engineer...While all the workers were still there

Hush, hush baby of mine,Who gave you that necklace? Maybe it was your first love, but the second is even more...Maybe it was your first love foreman oh foreman, now deal with it!

... Maybe it was your first love, Foreman oh foreman, now deal with it!

* Carabinieri: the national military police of Italy, policing both military and civilians

inspired by the traditional singing

Now the flood has comeand wants to take me awayIf you don’t hold my hand you’ll soon hear the knell

When in winter the snow covers the cragswill we lay our head on a pillow (2)

The rose in the garden withers and diesLove is to be blamed for love’s nigh, but still asleep..

The fountain’s in despairit hasn’t rained for a while Water swishes away and does not get where it should (2)

You’ve got lovebut you don’t give it to me With others you roveand this heart you hurt so (2)

I curse the day and time I left youNow I long to come back, butcome back I never can

I have an accordionAnd it goes It goes like a band to youto cover you in slurs and shame

I was coming from the farm with my hat turned to the side, I hadfound myself a girl Wanted to make a queen out of her

But you turned your back on meAnd called me names, but therein the lair you were flirty with me…

Like that girl in the barn who, with no scorn nor shame,was nice to whoever had dough and the whip made her creep

Like the one from Contraloi who found herself a boy and her poor husband was leftto his sleepless nights, bereft

By the baker of Toglia an old woman with a gongbagged meat all day longwith no rind she would not go

I’m really fond of you But you don’t care And I’m scared For what you do, you alone know (2)

inspired by the traditional singing

9 10

PETTAROSSAFACCIA DI CORNO(Horn-face)

Oi yellow face, yellowish faceI know you haven’t eaten todayCome, have some broth, it’s good for you,A bit of color’s good for you

Dim face, pale faceslice of the moonyou look like a rotten strawberry and now my heart you’ve left you look like a rotten strawberry and my heart forever, dehyou’ve left.

Come to the window horn faceThe croaker’s got something to tell youfor he made you a necklace of snakesand they’re coming to bite your neck

Viper face, snake faceMay you end up a trampKnock here and knock there, till you knock at my door Hopefully mum won’t open the doorSo I’ll come and give you alms

Tainted face, wretched faceyou had an ass and you sold itnow you ride in rags and dumpson a blind goat’s rump

Tainted face, snake faceyou’ve got no dowry and you boastand brag, your belly tucked out,though in your house neither a saint would dwell

*inspired by the traditional singing

Zu zu ,zu, yours are the troubles Whatever you don’t need, I’ll give it all to youZu zu ,zu, yours are the troubles Whatever you don’t need, I’ll give it all to you

The donkey carries the hay and the donkey brays away

Beware of red ones and piebald dogs,kill their newborns on the spot!

With squat men and short females weigh up the dealseven times

Eat the crust and save the crumbs

Save and cut a dashing figure

First I adore you, then I ignore you

Only the mother who feeds dumb soncan understand his silent song

When you have no one about, you lie down with who’s around

Lame, blind and red ones: there ain’t place in heaven for such mugs!Lame, blind and red ones: there ain’t place in heaven for such mugs!

Pettarossa the floozypleases her townsmen for freeBut for the strangers she raises the feefor a tasting of her lecherous hips

Underneath she has a gunAnd she has no safety catch For she’s faster with no pantsand she’s not afraid of the dark

Now that you are lying under the broom bushYou oughta show me where it hurts (2)

Beware little sister of minethis stuff hurtsAnd even though the rind is hard it penetrates the flesh

My rind ain’t that hard, but you just can’t make itAnd if you grind at two farmscome night you’re too tired to grind at mine

Peppe the cuckold wants to lie with a lass But when he crept in stealthily in the pallet he found his pal

Shameless chum, look at this swollen womb of mineyou had a real ball, dudebut now the midwife you oughta call

Farmer plowing the fields You got the tastiest bitYou relished and feasted in it But now that you are sated, you may as well die (2)

*

11 12

NACHECICiFACCIA DI CORNO - L’AGGIUNTA(Horn-face - the supplement)

Face of treacherous cliffBlack and unkempt earthDaughter of ill-sowed wheatHorn face, who’s ever thought of you?

You made me curse... St. LiborioPatron of all willing cuckoldsBut now I’m dead sick of youAnd my heart forever you left my heart for ever you left, my heart you left,my heart forever...you left.

inspired by the traditional singing

(I’m coming now, playing and singing I’m coming down the road with my clatter For your mother and father oughta know Here comes the traitor...)

Come to the window,Wild head You could’ve been born in cowshed in FoggiaYou’re as rabid as a dogBut you always make room for a lover or two

I fell in love with a rod that’s 49 feet long You can bend it and pull it 'til it looks like a bridgefor her true lover to tread underneath(3)

Oh, snake-face, canebrake snake face Your head dangles as you walkYou brag and sway your dressBut your house is wrecked and your bed is cracked (2)

Muddy boot faceMuddy boot facePrey to God that a lightening strikes you For I know your swain He looks like Master Ciccio’s swine

*“The Macaroni ” by Matteo Salvatore, Francesco Antonelli and Adriana Fascettiarrangement by Vinicio Capossela

Oh… nanachenanachecici’ uh… nanachenanachecici’uh… nanachenanachecici’I’m gonna die (2)

Some may die Some may liveIn a dish of macaroni with meat (2)

Guys, turn around like Ciccio Cavallo, turn like Giro Cavallo! Girolè lè là.. (2)

Some may die Some may livein a dish of macaroni with meat (2)

Uh… nanachenanachecici’ uh… nanachenanachecici’ uh… nanachenanachecici’I’m gonna die nowOilì oilà, oilì oilà, after all we are young and want to have fun Guys, turn around like Ciccio Cavallo, turn like Giro Cavallo! Girolè lè là... (2)

Some may die Some may livein a dish of macaroni with meat (2)

Nachenanachenanachecici’ nachenanachenanachecici’ nachenanachenanachecici’ I’m gonna die now (ad libitum)

Some may die Some may livein a dish of macaroni with meat (2)

13 14

RAPATATUMPALu furastiero(The stranger)

Tonight the stranger is sleeping in the farmyardHe’s sleeping in the farmyard In the cool breeze

Tonight the stranger is sleeping in the farmyardHe’s sleeping in the farmyard In the cool breeze

With a frog’s song for a blanket And a sack for a pillow (2)

Tonight the stranger is sleeping in the farmyardHe’s sleeping in the farmyard in the farmyard Tonight the stranger is sleeping in the farmyardsleeping in the farmyard He’s sleeping safe

*“Lu furastiero dorme la notte sull’aia” by Matteo SalvatoreEd. Ala Bianca

Only the ladle knows The pot’s troubles Blessed is the one who’s gotta get Sad is the one who’s gotta give Trapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

When it’s time to dig and prune I have no uncles or nephewsWhen its time to reap and harvest uncles here, nephews thereTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

The old woman doesn’t want to dieThe young man wants to liveDeath couldn’t care less when your time comes, you have to go Trapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

Mommy, mommy the hours are longcatch the flies fluttering in the sunAnd if time won’t go bycatch them and then let them flyTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

The redhead ladpicked the redhead lass and with a cough he madea redhead childTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

Mother oh mother, I’m dying, I’m dyingDaughter of mine, what troubles your heartI have been ill three months And it feels like a gunshotTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

If I have nothingI’ll eat porridgeI’ll eat porridge First I button, then I unbuttonTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

The water goes to the sea The flour goes to the millIf you play sheepish The wolf shall eat youTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

Hold on donkey of mine for more straw shall come For all of my braying no straw is coming my wayTrapatatatatatatatumpa trapatatatatumpa ta (2)

“Rural proverbs” by Matteo Salvatore, Otello Profazio and Adriana Fascetti arrangement by Vinicio Capossela

15 16

LA NOTTE È BELLA da soli(The night is beautiful in solitude)

LA LONTANANZA(Distance)

Uh uhhh uh uhhhh

I want to drink with no glassThe cart won’t go on one wheel (2)

Woman of mine, sleeping in bed all aloneDon’t you fret at night (2)

Think of your spouse who lulls youand slogs 'til he drops for you

He sleeps alone on a straw-stackA heap of straw for a bed (2)

With a stone for a pillow he sleeps far from your hearthHe’s far away and all alone alone with oxen and goats

Uh uhhh

Wind and water only make rustAlong with the wind comes the cold slush (2)

And his heart is in hellDistance scares him to death (2)

Uh uhhh uh uhhhhhhhh

The night is beautiful in solitudeIn this village there ain’t a soulCats fight with dogs The cat wins, the cat wins A werewolf is heard in the distance I wake up with a frightbut the trickling sound of the fountainskeeps me companythe trickling sound of the fountainskeeps me company

The night is beautiful in solitudeThe night is beautiful in solitude

“La notte è bella” by Matteo Salvatore and Otello Profazioarrangement by Vinicio Capossela

CANZONI DELLA CUPAOMBRA (SHADOW)

17 18

SCORZA DI MULO(Mule’s rind)

LA BESTIA NEL GRANO(The beast in the wheat)

Uhss! Catch the beast in the wheat! Uhss... chase the beast off the wheat! AèhhhhUhss! Catch the beast in the wheat! Ussshh... chase the beast off the wheatTie the beast to a fagot,It ought to pay for the damage it didTie it tight, tie it fastTie it to last sheath, for the bad season it ought to pay!AèhhhhhCut reaper cut, scream to the top of your voice For those who scream are alive For those who scream are not dead! Aèhhhhhhh

Is it a fox? Is it owl, it is a quail, is it a wolf?It sways in the wheat... it sways in the wheat...Is it a hare? A goose? A wolf? It sways in the wheat... it sways in the wheat...

It sways in the golden wheat and hides in the sun Running in the deep of the wheat...Cut off the head of the beast in the wheat!Tie it to a fagot And to the last sheaf, for the bad season it ought to pay...AèhhhhLet the grain flourish again Let it flourish now that it’s dead!

It’s the midday hour... the midday hour...The sun has turned black, and sleep rules the hour It’s the scorching midday hour That saps men’s will, and fills them with sloth and lust That opens the door to the realm of the dustIn the midday hour, scream reaper scream, scream loudand chase death away!

Kuta kuta kuta kutà... Vicc’ vicc’... Yuuhh (animal cries)Uhss! Catch the beast in the wheat... Uhss! Chase thebeast off the wheat... aehhhh (2)Let it be taken by those lagging behind,Let guilt bear all the guilt, Let the reaper of the crimebear the blame for our shattered field, aehhhh

The sickle took its life, the earth dressed in mourning, Death snatched the seed, and took it down below! AehhhLet life return to the wheat field, let it return to where itwas snatched! Aehhh aehhhUhsss! Catch the beast in the wheat... chase the beast off the wheat... aehhhh

Is it a fox? Is it a hen? A hare? A wolf? It sways in the wheat... It sways in the wheat...Is it a goose? A quail? A wolf? It sways in the wheat... It sways in the wheat... swaysin the wheat... sways in the wheat...

It’s the midday hour... the midday hour...The time of the afternoon demon, when life flies awayIn the midday hour the living and the dead come together The soul flies away, like shadow from the feetIt left the world above in the scorching midday hour Scream reaper scream...for you are alive, you’re not dead!

To load, wood on the muleTo curse, ass and strawTo flee, hooves and horse

The thrashed mule has shinier hairThe stick’s vein freshens its backThe beaten mule straightens up the house

Wood on the saddle, mule’s rindThey advance at night as black as coalForest thieves on a mountain’s crest They sew the earth with a hoof’s needle

Two interwoven threads hold betterTwo lives held together can hold a landslide As dark as the night may bethe mule must return to the straw

Uhhhh... uhhhh...

Council of foxes, cackling of hensIt rains with the sun, the devil’s making love He does it with his woman, who holds him by the horns

Of the birds that roam at night, neither the feathers are worth a farthing The owl’s flight is the flight of premonition Troubles are endless, and when your time comes you’ll croak

No one found Saint Zaccaria’s treasure It must be sought at night, but it’ll grab your soulThe Cupa’s path was built by the devil in one night

Woman’s whim, mule’s bray The dog always bites the ragged one Water always falls on the wet side

Cross the river on a saddle in chains Sleep on the river bed and rob it of its stonesFor the water bull won’t tell you when the flood will drown you

Narrow waters are always the deepest The hoof wades the broadest bendSo take the long way and get home safe

Uhhhh... uhhhh...

To load, wood on the muleTo curse, ass and strawTo flee, hooves and horse

The ass always knows the shortest way home.The tail clears the footsteps from the shadow of the road The ass is unshoed only when it dies

19 20

LE CREATURE DELLA CuPA(The creatures of La Cupa)

IL PUMMINALE(THE PUMMINALE)

In the night of the Moon master Joseph left homeThe moon sent him the call of the Pumminale*He left his wife and daughter behind and everything he cared forhe left all his chores undonehe left them at the call of the underworldhe left for the underworld

In a thorny bushHe met his demonthat stood in the middle of a crossroadswith blood-red flesh, with hale and hearty face with cheeks reddened by vice:she was Mary Health

Who has always been deceitfuland casts her gaze around like burning coal she casts it around like a call thus they call her Owl*

In the moonlight... in the moonlight... in the moonlight...

He threw his hands in all that he found and to have a ball, he kept the goat toohe threw his trembling nails in he pulled his tongue out of his teeth from inside his loin and groin he spatthe seed that dungs the earth that nagged at his brains

He pulled out his claws his two-hand’s-breadth teethlike a big cat with no lovehe threw himself into the flower of flesh

In the moon night... in the moonlight... in the moonlight...

In the wood, on his way back, he met the six witchesDear master Joseph, it was six of us , now it’s seven,If I ever get out of this muddle, I’ll no longer go roaming at night... I’ll no longer go messing around like a swine at night...

In the moon night... in the moonlight... in the moonlight...

And everything seemed to have come about in a dream when in the morning he went to bedhe had left a crack in the world he had come down with a fever only then, and not at Christmas,he understood the evil of the Pumminale...that werewolf Lupercio* inside that nags at night that, instead of turning him into a wolf,had turned him into a swine...

In the moonlight... in the moonlight...

If you have a demon, give him a namedon’t run away, don’t reject himIf you have a devil, give him a namebaptize him and let him live...

Along the road, that’s full of potholes, you’ll find the Virgin Mary putting patches along a road, that’s nice and smooth, you’ll find the devil taking a piss

In the moon night... in the moonlight... in the moonlight...In the moonlight... in the moonlight... in the moonlight...

* Pumminale: a creature of the wood* Cuccuvascia: Owl, but also ungainly, short woman* Lupercio: a demon lord

Don’t follow the path of La Cupa She’s little, but heavyShe has a baby-face and fiery eyes of fire

If you hold her close she’ll melt your legs and you’ll walk no moreBut don’t go asking for help For no one will trust you

Don’t lean to look into the well at nightThe Maranchino hides in thereHe’ll lie in your bed to irk you He’ll gnaw at your head and won’t let you sleep

It is a creature of La Cupa It’s little, but it tires your armsJust like love, it’s heavy to lift and carry

These are the Creatures of La CupaThey stare at you at night from a cleftYou cannot touch, you cannot see thembut they can touch and see you..

Run up the ridgeHear the Pumminale’s cryIt bathes in the mud of the Trasonna* All through Christmas night

The Mazzamauriello empties your glasses moves your chairs and hides your things You’ll go mad looking for themHe fills the ceiling with every noise

Malaombra can snatch you She’ll take your breath and weigh down your breast She’ll envelop you in coils, take your voice away and tie you to a walnut tree

That’s where the Masciare* flyThey gnaw at your bones and assault your roof…

Don’t you lean out to see them fly by They’ll boil you in broth and spread your fat, and like cats with their criesthey’ll fill the night

Should the wolf snatch youHe has a hole in his sack; he’ll let you go,He’ll let you go, but you won’t go back to what you were before

A part has disappeared; off with the Pumminale it wentwith the caravan of creaturesasking for life, not craving for carenot craving for care

These are the creatures of La CupaRevealing themselves one at a time So as no one can say whether they’re real or from the realm of the Truth

The hanged man dangles and swaysOver a plank floor he was left dangling awake The tree holding up his world was severed at night by the werewolf

But it won’t chop your cradle at nightIn your cradle there’s nothing to fearIt’s a cradle of thorns, the wicked one cannot come near you,cannot come near you.

They’re all hiding there, in the realm of the Truth...The Truth.

* Trasonna: the narrowest street in Italy, located in the village of Candela.

21 22

L’ANGELO DELLA LUCE(The Angel of Light)

LA NOTTE DI SAN GIOVANNI(St. John’s Night)

On a burning plank in the sky they rove with no respiteThey rove at the cry, at the last gasplet out from the throat of the departedThey rove in the wind blown by the saintwho lost his head due to a spell

Herod the king lost his head for a dance he lost his headHerod the king lost his head for a dance he lost his head

Now the girls with candid heartcan still hear the wordsechoing in the shadows of the basin echoing in the water

Mommy oh mommy, why did you ask for that And you, my daughter why did you do that?You asked for St. John’s headNow mama, such despair!

In flames we go roving aroundwe go roving around the globeIn flames go roving aroundwill doomsday ever come?

We shall burn all day long and fall with no returnWe shall dance all through the netherworld for a dance always takes to the underworld

Mama o mama, why did you ask for that? And you, my daughter, why did you do that?You asked for Saint John’s headNow mama, such despair!

You asked for his head to be cut off at the neck You asked for his head to be served on a dishDaughter you danced all night long for his severed head to fall

Daughter you played all your tricksshaking you belly and hips ‘til his cheeks were on fire‘til his blood was aflame with desire

And now we go burning all day falling down with no returnIn the grace leading to hellwe shall dance and burn in the wind 'til we are nothing but dust...

Now the girls on Saint John’s night ask the fire to unveil the tricksThey ask the thistle, they ask the leadWho shall one day be their spouse

And the coarse Witches tonight want to fly tooAs everyone searches the sky for a sign of the Real World

But the future is written on fireIt’s burning alive Seeing a head glow in the sun Seeing it grow and fall apartSeeing the blood boil in goldBaptized in hell’s firethat’s always burning insideBurning away and in the windto be Spirit, Dust and Ash of bones without a grave

Now the girls on Saint John’s night ask their finger who shall be their spouse They ask the thistle exposed to the sunlight at dawn For in the morning, in the rising sun if something shall flower, what flowers is Hope

To the angel you must go, if you don’t go there alive, you’ll go when you’re deadTo the angel you must go, to the cave where woe is crushed

Among drifters and tramps, froth of humanityThey roam the earth with a shell on the hatWith their torch they carry the light, but darkness’s in their heart

Shrouded in their skin, they sleep on the groundOn tombstones’ lap, on a bed of wrecksThey’ll float in Time 'til the end comes...

Among drifters and tramps, froth of humanityAlms’ receivers of yore, bums, charlatans, fake sickSwindlers, beggars, scroungers, disgraceful and priests Forgivers, sellers, quacks, fake healers,villains, whiners, paupers and testatorsCollecting alms with a cross and wishing misfortunes to those who give none. Into a hat they throw the cross, into a lie they pour some Truth.

Saint Michael di Monte, please show us the path! Saint Michael Archangel of mine, to you I entrustthis soul of mineShould we see you no more, take us to heaven, we trust in you

Shrouded in steam, I entrust my image to you, Go out walking backwards, don’t you turn your back on the light, Leave the cave walking backwards, though the miracle did not occur.

The angel of light fell on his head.The sky turned upside down and the world got to see him.Evil trampled on him and entangled his feet.

The archangel of light fell on his headHe sullied himself in life, now his wings cannot fly...

He brought Grace and gave it to those who lacked it He brought Grace, the only grace was Charity:soothe the thirsty, visit the jailed, bury the killed, cover the sick, feed the hungry, but there’s nothing for me.

Shrouded in steam, I entrust my image to you.Between the nothingness that was before and the vacuum that shall come, I dreamt up my life and in my dream I entrusted it to you Among the drifters and tramps, froth of humanityAmong the consumed, the gathered, the counterfeit, the re-trooped, the re-amassed, the re-clad, the plastinated...Froth of humanity, twilight of humanity

Saint Michael di Monte, to you I entrust this soul of mineShould we see you no more, take us to heaven, we trust in you

23 24

il bene mio(My beloved)

COMPONIDORI

Dress him up Massaieddas* The ground he shall not touch We ought to make a God out of him And a God he shall be all through Carnival day

He sports a moon-shaped maskand a flower-garnished horse for Fortune shall parade He is called ComponidoriComponidori... Componidori... Componidori...

Fortune is star-shaped in the Sartiglia* carouselWe’ve filled the sheath of his swordwith all our crop

And when he finally bathedin the crowd of people they saw a God in him and he felt he was GodThey saw a God in him and he felt he was God (2)Componidori... Componidori... Componidori...

Undress him MassaieddasHe can touch ground againThat mask ain’t good for him And he’s desperate for a pee Now he is back to normalHe can walk on his feet He can touch the girls And whiff down barrels of wineFor reveling is more fun than being in charge

He can kiss the girls, He can whiff down barrels of wineFor reveling is more fun than being in chargeComponidori...Componidori... Componidori...

Instrumental music. Trumpets.

Go and take him Massaieddas He was found lying on the ground With his top hat squashed With the mask of the Blessed on his face.Though the revelry is over nowand life has slipped away with it,Deception has stuck to his face with twenty pots of cuvata soup*40 ladles of Vernaccia winewild game skewers pork and birds aqua vitae and macaroonsand 23 barrels of wine

So is the fate of Carnival daythat every year is doomed to failSo is the fate of Carnival daythat every year is doomed to failComponidori... Componidori... Componidori...

* Massaieddas: the housewives in charge of the clothing of Componidori* Sartiglia: Traditional celebration * Zuppa cuvata: Cuvata soup is a typical local soup consisting of layersof bread soaked in meat broth

Bye now my love Run to your mom Now you’re the loveMy love

I love you so And I’ll love you more My darling, my loveMy darling, my love

If your mom doesn’t want we’ll make it alone We’ll set a day and run awayMy darling, my love

Bye now my loveRun now, for it’s late and dark My darling, my loveMy darling, my love

*“Lu bene mio” by Matteo Salvatorearrangement by Vinicio Capossela

25 26

LO SPOSALIZIO DI MALOSERVIZIO(The wedding of Maloservizio)

MADDALENA LA CASTELLANA(Maddalena the girl fromBorgo Castello)

lyrics by Vinicio Capossela and Canio Vallariomusic by Vinicio Capossela

Maddalena the castellanafelt it moving in her bellyFrom Cecchina she sought adviceWhat shall I do, who shall I call?From Cecchina she sought adviceThe Foggiana* you gotta call

The Foggiana secretly makes her concoctionsThe Foggiana secretly cracks all the snarlsShe puts everyone in turmoilAnd there’s no turning back (2)

Such a pain, such a sorrow there’s nowhere I can stay Such a pain, such a sorrow even my kidneys acheand my sweat runs down in rivers and there’s nowhere I can stay (2)

Mother oh mother, when I met himI thought he’d put me on a throneHe hammered his nail in my womband now it hurts me so (2)

Maddalena the castellanahad to call the Foggiana What she had she took from her belly With a hook she searched her belly

And the bowels she threw on the floorInto a bowl on the floor She flung the bowels from a bed of vermillion mud The baby’s bowels from a bed of vermillion mud

So the tangle was cleared, and so was the rabbit’s rutSo the tangle was cleared, and so was the rabbit’s rut

*Foggiana: woman from Foggia

On his wedding night the witches played a trick on Maloservizio,On his very wedding daythey played a bad joke on himA twine of sorcerythey stretched along the way

To Maloservizio, who out of habit never did anything goodnever got any rest at night and never envied a soulHe danced and sang all life long and early at night he never got home

A twine as long as the night they stretched through the caves like the straw of the straniscio* They stretched it along each and every alleyFrom door to door they stretched the deadly spell’s twine...

Barbaje barbaje... Rucche rucche and barbajè*...

The straniscio that triggers wild glee and soils the immaculate veil of the bridewho made a mistake who committed a sinIf someone’s been there beforeIf someone’s been there alreadyIf someone has previously snatched the tastiest morsel from her garlanded bed

But for Maloservizio instead of the straw they laid the twine that Lachesis* cutThe three fates, the crazy witches, on the day of the cannazze*,on his very day of pride, stretched the magic twine from his house door to the graveyard’s gate

Barbaje barbaje... Rucche rucche and barbajè...

They chose a golden twine as gold as the ring he wore A thread as long as the tail of a comet A thread so long that it touched each and every hamlet

It ran all around the wedding guests all wrapped up in a tangle All bound together with the party-crashers,the Holy Saints of Ricreo*all wrapped up in streamers It ran under everyone’s skinlike the twine of the vrasciola* It tied them all up round the cop On stage Grannaneta played the zuchete zu’* and Sticchio tuned his bass drum with the sound of a double-barreled gun They turned the guitar into a hamperand filled it with meatballs and he knocked on that bountiful hamper as well equipped as Russia.And Suonatore pushed the bellowshe pushed the bellows ten hours longA necklace of sausages and a crown of stockfish...

The twine bound together those who donated a holy card with the spouses’ loved ones

27 28

It tied them all up in the dance to swallow the bride up in a trance peasants with farmhands and labourers from afar the village flat-caps with those scattered at the North Pole...

The meat-eaters from Andretta with the redasses from Bisaccia, and the Saints slayers from Carbonara, with the frog-eaters, scales-fixers and guzzlers from Conza the chinwaggers, dumbbells and flatcaps from Guardia, with the gypsies and braggarts from Lacedoniathe Santandriani, dog-skinners, potty-pot cleaners and bell-ringers with the skinflint, donkey skinners and potato eaters from Sant’Angelothe slayers from Teora, gravediggers and carderswith the left-handed tripe eaters and big spenders from Morraand the yellow snouts from Monteverde.He tied them all together with the...kiln workers, drunkards,bell-ringers and bad Christiansstone throwers, dog-hearts...the madmen from Calitri who’d sell even their donkey for the sake of a zuchete zu...who’d sell even their soul for the sake of a zuchete zu...

So the witches’ twine ran through every corner,it whirled around the bride, it ran all life long,it went from hand to hand until the revelry came to an end

It burned like a flashin every vice of Maloserviziowho, in the roar of the revelry,fooled even death he gobbled it all up with the cakewith the Holy Martyrs of Ricreo from the cradle that rocked him to the church that married himFrom the wedding hall to the graveyard gate.

Barbaje barbaje... Rucche rucche and barbajè...

Cutie don’t cry...

If Liberto gives me his daughterI’ll have her, I’ll have her If Liberto gives me his wife...I don’t want her. No, I don’t... (2)

I don’t want her. No, I don’t... I don’t want her. No, I don’t...

* Straniscio: affront to the honour of the bride. archaic customs inwhich some straw was laid on the pavement outside the bride’s andgroom’s house to suggest that someone had already eaten from that“trough”, hence the bride was no longer chaste. A prank made byrejected suitors out of envy or jealousy. It was considered to be abad slur; indeed the couple’s best friends used to guard their roadwith sticks to avoid such a smear. Maloservizio has been the victim of a prank too. The twine goingfrom his house door to the graveyard is compared to the straw of thestraniscio (literally dress-train).* Barbajè: onomatopoeic word to make exorcisms and shoo awaythe witches. * Lachesis: (/ˈlækɪsɪs/; Greek: Λάχεσις, Lakhesis, "disposerof lots") The second of the Three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis and Atro-pos. Lachesis’s role was to measure the thread spun on Clotho's spindle and establish people’s Destiny, or thread of life. Lachesis decided how long people were bound to live. She measured thethread of life with her rod.* Cannazze: short-cut pasta generally served with a minced meatsauce, a traditional wedding dish in Calitri. * Ricreo: recreation, fornication, revelry with human reproduction,and therefore regeneration of mankind. * Vrasciola: meat balls. * Zuchete Zu: is an onomatopoeic dialect expression referring to aparticular popular musical instrument, widespread in southern Italy, a friction drum of ancient origin.

IL LUTTO DELLA SPOSA(The bride’s mourning)

You are leaving, sister, you’re leaving...The veil is running with the dogs Behind the car that’s rolling away

Tomorrow you are leaving sister, you are leaving tomorrow Tomorrow you won’t be with usOutside the veil is white with flowersbut it’s black inside, full of what we’ll be no more

A new life’s dawning but I mourn the life dying today hush, hush...

A white steed took you awaywith a haunting song and a diamond-string guitar You will be mother, you will be wife, and you will be lonelyYou will no longer play, rolling life away You will no longer eat supper with usYour smile won’t be in the house Tomorrow you are going daughter of mine, you aregoing away...

It’s hard to say it, it’s so hard to be merryThe veil is white, but it’s black inside It’s the price for a new lifea life’s got to die today...We’ll celebrate tomorrow, but today we are mourning.

29

IL TRENO(The train)

They left behind the twisted branches, the new moon and the dead men crosses

The blackened fields and farms, the train took all things far.

A round bread loaf Vituccio brought alongHe held it close and ate it a week longHe held it close and ate it a week long...

Like a rose, like a thorn, like a fortune, like a ruinWhat I had, has gone now, what will come, hasn’t yet

And if life comes about and hits me like this trainWhat I was, I cannot remainWhat I am, I must remain What I am, I must remain.

Uh uhhhhh

The train came one day like a bird from a hill far away On rotten tracks with spread wings, it took them all in its chest and away.

And far away at the horizon something quivered and glaredIt was the vision of a huge TV set.It swallowed them up and away, like the comfort of the last portWatching over their old age and grey hair Watching over their old age and grey hair

Like a rose, like a thorn, like a fortune, like a ruinWhat I had, has gone now, what will come, hasn’t yet

And if life comes about and hits me like this trainWhat I was, I cannot remainWhat I am, I must remain What I am, I must remain

Uh uhhhhh

* Stracciato: covered in rags * Sonnoso: sleepy* Arco degli Zingari, Gypsies’ Arch: De Carlo street in Calitri, also know as Arco degli Zingari due to its arcades.

The train arrived one morning with the black smoke of the night beforeThe whistle called and the townsfolk flocked down.

Stracciato* was the first to leave his home, a hovel black with smoke The last was Mandarino, with all his seeds in the silo

The folks from the Castle came down with those from the Barn house

And the whole valley left, leaving neither a chicken behind.

The whole village left, with not a card or a lineLike a thrown-out herd: men, dogs, nuns and flowersLike a thrown-out herd: men, dogs, nuns and flowers

Behind they left their chatter, hanging on the speechless mouth of their shut doorsTheir abandoned windows looking like pitch-black eyes

Sonnoso* was late, he was the last to look behind Then with his suitcase he stopped the train: “Stop, wait or I’ll beat out you brains!”And Tavolone, who did it on the planks, left tooPeppe Nacca, Breccia and Piscone they all left arm in arm

The Witches* took the devil tooThey took him and wrapped it up in their smock And with the devil so entangled They left Gypsies’ Arch*

Uh uhhhh

CANZONI DELLA CUPANOTES

FIRST PART: Polvere (Dust)

Femmine (Women)Labour chant of female tobacco workers interpreted by the voice of Mrs Addolorata Lia neé Patù in memoryof the time when she herself was a tobacco reaper. The tune has been rearranged in the style of the Prison& Blues Songs from Alan Lomax’s recordings. The world of the tobacco reapers recalls the black slaves’ hardlabour and exploitation in North America’s cotton plantations, with a dash of licentious malice.Il lamento dei mendicanti (The trumps’ cry)Barren blues, reminiscent of drought, hunger and thirst. The first piece in this record by Matteo Salvatore,the great bard of injustice and exploitation in the Southern latifundia of the ’50s. A ballad carrying withit the rags and rattle of the beggars to which Camporesi devoted his Book of Vagabonds. La padrona mia (My mistress)The mistress of my heart, but also the mistress of the manor, a multifaceted character appearing in severalsonnet ballads, where she invariably reigns with her inaccessible and bursting femininity. This version’sfirst stanza has retained its original folkloric style, to then venture into Canio Vallario’s (master B’llino)and the author’s arrangement.Dagarola DEL CARPATO Sung story as recollected by Mrs Di Guglielmo. Teodora is a heroine, a faithful woman, whose name thelocal dialect has changed to Dagarola. This is a poignant portrayal of a woman in love, who, mad with sorrow,wanders alone in her village alleys when there is no one around to see her. Like a bell-less cow, like an animalwith no herd, her only consolation is a plea to the Crowned Virgin. The rattling sound, the distinctive timbreof Calitri’s Western, is by Banda della Posta in a choral execution with Giovanna Marini’s guiding voice.L’acqua chiara alla fontana(The fountain’s clear water)This ballad is partly inspired by the troubadour tradition and by the popular Calitri sonnet “Il Nobile Cavaliere” (the noble knight). It features a spring of clear virginal water, a fountain. A love-bargainingstory, lacking neither graciousness nor rural carnality, unfolds to the luring sound of golden marenghi,old-day coins. Provencal and chivalrous tones imbue the ancient ballad’s arrangement by the two Frenchviolinists, who promptly interpreted it.Zompa la rondinella (Swallow’s leaps)Spontaneous and wandering ballad in which each can add a new stanza. There is a so-called Pescatamonte,a priest with no calling and a quarrelsome character, who has well-deserved his nickname owing to the“peccata mundi” he preached about from the altar, and for which he had a penchant. To the sound of afountains’ tricking water, a so-called Filomena gets into troubles and leaves others to deal with them, nonetheless “let’s cuddle once more and set the train on fire” she goes. Franceschina la calitrana(Franceschina the girl from Calitri)Verses echoing from the time of the construction of the first railway, following the unification of Italy,and still conveying the allure of this popular “friend” of engineers and foremen. The labourers, who meanwhile “are always there”, though excluded from the profit as well the pleasure, endow the song withan epic union touch.

sonetti (Sonnets)The sonnet is a spontaneous song in fixed form, both in terms of meter and melody. It is a cultural heritageas rich as an oil field, to which everyone has contributed with a verse. Its melodic form and selection ofstanzas make up a love story about a coveted love to which a dejected lover - owing pride, fear or adventure- cannot return. Faccia di corno (Horn face)Two are the types of serenades sung under the balcony of the desired (or formerly desired) mate at night:the flattering serenade and the serenade of smears, the latter basically being a tirade of slurs. The versescan either praise the loved one or defame and abuse her once love has gone sour. This sort of Stornello*draws on some of the stanzas of an extraordinary heritage of serenades of smears.Stornello: a folk song that often recounted the status of women in the past. TN.

PettarossaThe protagonist’s nickname is due to the generosity of her breast, rather than to the colour of the robin(robin is pettirosso in Italian T.N.). The raving song resounds with fragments of characters handed downthrough the sonnets and is imbued with the atmosphere of the serenades of slurs.Faccia di corno - L’aggiunta(Horn face - the supplement)Like one who, after having vented all sorts of abuse, resumes his way home but feels he hasn't said it all: that’sthe supplement. More slurring verses come the formerly coveted lover’s way. Some have a metaphysical character,like the “rod that’s 49 feet long, you can bend it and pull it 'til it looks like a bridge for her true lover to treadunderneath”. A wealth of smears followed by a liberating finale: “My heart forever you left, forever you left”.Nachecici“Ranchera” version of “I Maccheroni” by Matteo Salvatore, an explosive, existentialist and rustic masterpiecewith a somewhat mantric refrain: “some may die, some may live in a dish of Maccheroni with meat”.LU fURASTIERO (The stranger )The harvested field, the corn sheaves, the wind. A seasonal reaper from afar who carries all his belongingswith him. The repose of the stranger, sleeping with a bag for a pillow, is a lyrical masterpiece by MatteoSalvatore, rendered here in Italian.RapatatumpaVersion of the “Proverbi Paesani” (rural proverbs) by Matteo Salvatore, vademecum of wisdom and popularcynicism. The word rapatatumpa recalls the drum’s roll of the town crier in the afternoon sloth. Thesestanzas, as black as a painting by Goya, accompanies the parading Death. Death in life in which time tooneeds to be killed. This version’s drunken sound of the drum is the work of Tricarico, the extraordinarycrew playing with the master-prophet Antonio Infantino.La lontananza (Distance)When you are away and alone, wandering with sheep herds at night, what troubles the most is not thewind or the thunder, not the storm or the paucity. It is distance. Distance is our lives’ worst evil, a tightropebetween those we love and those who love us.La notte è bella da soli(The night is beautiful in solitude)When all have left, or sleep forever, a solitary bard in a forlorn village... The patter of footsteps, a fountain’strickling sound, a fight between dogs and cats, the echo of the werewolf ’s howl that frightens the heart. Aheartfelt wail by Salvatore, dedicated to all forsaken townships.

Second part: Ombra (Shadow)

La bestia nel grano(The beast in the wheat field)The cry of the reaper is louder at noon, the hour that leaves no shadow on the ground, the hour whenthere is no separation between life and death. The hour of the afternoon demon. This is the time of daywhen imaginary beasts - hiding and running in the fields and swaying the wheat - must be chased andoffered in sacrifice to the demon as a compensation for the mourning of the mown field.Scorza di mulo (Mule’s rind)The mule drivers are guided by Hermes. They are the liminal creatures between the static world of the sedentary people and the boundless mobility of the night. They are no knights though; they are meremule drivers dealing with stubborn beasts. They trek in the darkness to steal wood in the forest, to carryloads, subjects to perils like river floods, crags, guards and brigands. Bleak thoughts crowd the speechlessmule’s head of a mule driver at night to the hypnotic sound of hooves that never gallop, but merely trotunder the weight of a burden they have to carry like a punishment.THE PumminaleThe Pumminale is the werewolf, a man who was born on Christmas night and on full moon nights turnsinto a wolf and seeks refreshment in the mud. This Pumminale’s hair grows outside in, and at the call ofthe moon he does not turn into a wolf, but into a swine. The story of a nightly harlotry to find one’s owndemon and come to terms with it.Le creature della cupa(The Creatures of La Cupa)Several are the creatures of La Cupa owing to which it is best not to peer into wells, roam the streets atnight, or expose oneself to danger. The list of creatures reads like a lullaby on a cradle of thorns: themasciara, the pumminale, the maranchino and above all the creature of La Cupa, a new-born who inspirestenderness, but her weight will bend your legs if you try to lift her: gold that the demon has turned to lead.La notte di San Giovanni (Saint John’s Night)This is a night of omens and visions. The night in which girls seek signs to divine who will be their spousefor life. In the basin’s water they see Salomé’s and Herodias’ shadows trailing each other, doomed for eternity.L’angelo della luce (The Angel of Light) Michele, the Angle of Light, has come on a sword of light and prompted the farmers to leave their homesand set off like pilgrims for the cave on the day of the Archangel. The road of the pilgrims is swarmingwith orders of beggars, simonists, healers, preachers, trumps and faith peddlers. Like Adam, the angel oflight had to come to earth and soil his feet.Componidori After a religious deity, a pagan one. How to make man holy for one day, how to rid him of his bodily functions and his face and turn him into a bright mask leading a throng of magnificent knights huntingstarts to make the soil fertile. This is what happens during the celebration of the Sartiglia. But this is aCarnival feast, a feast of subversion of order. The very King gets drunk and is found lying on the groundat dawn, among the last.

il bene mio (My beloved)The culmination of a love can occur either with a veil on the wedding day, surrounded and digested bythe whole community, or in solitude, in the bleakest clandestinely of a love elopement. There’s no banquet,only the haven of love and the dread of being abandoned soon afterwards. This is the subject of yet anotherextraordinary ballad by Matteo Salvatore. Maddalena la castellana(Maddalena the girl from Borgo Castello) Terrible story on the consequences of a secret love affair, a rather frequent predicament in a world wheremen, more often than not, were away at war or as migrant workers. With the ferocity of a description ascrude as reality, the poet Canio Vallario has composed this sonnet on the topic of an illegal abortion andon the pitch-black character of a midwife with whom, once you call her, “there’s no turning back”.Lo sposalizio di Maloservizio(The wedding of Maloservizio)The feast melts life away until it touches death. The wild celebrations dissipate every accumulation, thefeast of the Holy Martyrs of Ricreo. The recreation regenerates man, it creates him through mating and,at the same time, consumes him. That’s why someone jokingly, but also fatally and symbolically, tied thethreshold of Maloservizio’s house to the gate of the graveyard, but the rope turned into a streamer andenveloped everyone in the celebration, even the neighbouring villages and villagers, respectively namedby name and nicknames. Rucche Rucche and Barbaje, is a sort of magic formula. The rest is typical weddingday folklore, five minutes of frantic execution by a sputtering Rumanian band playing with Banda dellaPosta. The song owes a lot to Aniello Russo for the villagers’ nicknames and to Armando Testadiuccellofor the substance. Il lutto della sposa (The Bride’s mourning) Each golden age, earth’s childhood, comes to an end on the day of the bride’s wedding. It is the beginningof a new life. Starting a new life inevitably entails abandoning the one she has lived until that moment. Iwant to give my special thank to Adrian Paci for the subject of this song.Il treno (The train)Maybe a train came like a bird one day and took everyone away, leaving all dwellings empty and bereft.In times of war and in times of peace, a train came as black as death... Everyone got onto it, also a boywhose only possession was a big bread bun. All left on that train. My father too.

CANZONI DELLA CUPAINDEXES

FEMMINE (WOMEN)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, harmonica, percussion instruments, chorus

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bass, chorus

IL LAMENTO DEI MENDICANTI (THE BEGGARS’ CRY)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, bells

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bassFabrice Martinez: violinSimon Thierrèe: violin

LA PADRONA MIA (MY MISTRESS)Vinicio Capossela: vocals

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitars, chorus Fabrice Martinez: violinsVincenzo Vasi: rattle

David Hidalgo: requinto jarocho, accordion, electric guitarConrad Lozano: guitarrónLouie Perez: jarana

Steve Berlin: keyboardEnrique “Bugs” Gonzalez: drums

Taketo Gohara: chorus

DAGAROLA DEL CARPATOVinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, temple block, percussion instruments

Giovanna Marini: chorus Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: banjo guitar

Franco Maffucci “Parrucca”: classical guitar, chorus Giovanni Briulo: mandolin, chorus Giovanni Buldo: guitarrón, chorus

Giuseppe Galgano “Tottacreta”: accordion, chorus Giuseppe Caputo “Matalena”: acrid violin, chorus

L’ACQUA CHIARA ALLA FONTANA (THE FOUNTAIN’S CLEAR WATER)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bassFabrice Martinez: violinSimon Thierrèe: violinRelu Merisan: cymbalonAbdel Vega: vihuela

Vincenzo Vasi: tambourine

ZOMPA LA RONDINELLA (SWALLOW’S LEAPS)Vinicio Capossela: vocals

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: guitarrón, acoustic guitar, classical guitar, rhythm guitarGiovanna Marini: chorus Vincenzo Vasi: tambourine

Victor Herrero: classical guitar, percussion instrumentsAngelo Mancini: trumpetSergio Palencia: trumpetAndrés Vásquez: violin

FRANCESCHINA LA CALITRANA (FRANCESCHINA THE GIRL FROM CALITRI)Vinicio Capossela: vocals

Flaco Jimenez: accordion, chorus Max Baca: bajo sexto, chorus

Ramón Gutiérrez: tololoche, chorus David Jimenez: drums, chorus

Patricia Vonne: chorus John Convertino: drumsJacob Valenzuela: trumpet

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: acoustic guitarVincenzo Vasi: percussion instruments

SONETTI (SONNETS)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, piano, accordion, bells, chorus

Howe Gelb: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, chorus Josh Baca: accordion

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: charango, cuatro, guitarrónGiuseppe Caputo “Matalena”: acrid violin Vincenzo Vasi: percussion instruments

FACCIA DI CORNO (HORNFACE)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, electric guitar

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bassFabrice Martinez: violinSimon Thierrèe: violin

Antonio Infantino: cubba cubba

PETTAROSSAVinicio Capossela: vocals

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bassFabrice Martinez: violinSimon Thierrée: violinRelu Merisan: cimbalomJosh Baca: accordion

Albert Florian Mihai: accordion Giovanni Manca: organetto

Vincenzo Vasi: tambourine, chorus

FACCIA DI CORNO - L’AGGIUNTA (HORNFACE - THE SUPPLEMENT) Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitarAlessandro “Asso” Stefana: guitarrón

Dimitri Sillato: violinAntonio Infantino: cubba cubba

NACHECICIVinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, chorus

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bass, chorus Vincenzo Vasi: nose flute, percussion instruments, chorus

Fabrice Martinez: violinSimon Thierrée: violinRelu Merisan: cimbalomRoger Cubero: vihuelaAbdel Vega: vihuela

Angelo Mancini: trumpetSergio Palencia: trumpet

TARESUCCIAVocals: Armando “Testadiuccello”

LU FURASTIERO (THE STRANGER)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar

RAPATATUMPA Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, organ

Antonio Infantino: cubba cubbaAgostino Cortese: bass drum

Arcangelo Cortese: cubba cubbaPasquale Montesano: percussion instrumentsAntonio Vizzuso: percussion instruments

Francesco Tomacci: cubba cubbaEnza Pagliara: chorus

Vincenzo Vasi: tambourine, chorus

LA LONTANANZA (DISTANCE)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitars, chorus

INDEX OF MUSICIANS

LA NOTTE È BELLA DA SOLI (THE NIGHT IS BEAUTIFUL IN SOLITUDE)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, harmonica

LA BESTIA NEL GRANO (THE BEAST IN THE WHEAT FIELD)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: acoustic guitar, bassoFrancesco Loccisano: chitarra battente, chorus

Enza Pagliara: chorus Antonio Infantino: cubba cubbaAgostino Cortese: bass drum

Arcangelo Cortese: cubba cubbaPasquale Montesano: percussion instrumentsAntonio Vizzuso: percussion instruments

Francesco Tomacci: cubba cubba

SCORZA DI MULO (MULE’S RIND)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, voice reproducing the sound of hooves, chorus

Joey Burns: double bassJohn Convertino: drums

Howe Gelb: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, chorus David Hidalgo: electric guitar

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: acoustic guitarAgostino Cortese: bass drum

Pasquale Montesano: percussion instrumentsAntonio Vizzuso: percussion instruments

Francesco Arcuri: singing sawVincenzo Vasi: rattle

IL PUMMINALE (THE PUMMINALE)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, piano

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: baglamasFabrice Martinez: violinVincenzo Vasi: bass

Francesco Arcuri: singing saw, kalimba

LE CREATURE DELLA CUPA (THE CREATURES OF THE CUPA)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, piano, toy piano, harpsichords

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: bass, sound samplesJoey Burns: double bass

Taketo Gohara: sound samplesHowe Gelb: electric guitar

Francesco Arcuri: singing sawAntonio Infantino: cubba cubba

Vincenzo Vasi: toysMariagrazia Zarrilli: vocals

Zia Maria “Bersagliera”: vocalsFrancesca Galgano: vocals

LA NOTTE DI SAN GIOVANNI (ST. JOHN’S NIGHT) Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, tubular bells

Joey Burns: double bassJohn Convertino: drums

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitar, acoustic guitarSkoulas Kostas: lyre

Labis Xylouris: oud, chordophoneVictor Herrero: acoustic guitar

L’ANGELO DELLA LUCE (THE ANGEL OF LIGHT)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, electric harmonium

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitarsAntonio Infantino: tambourine

Enza Pagliara: chorus

COMPONIDORIVinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, spinet, chorus Joey Burns: double bass, classical guitar, and ukulele

John Convertino: drumsAlessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitar, acoustic guitars

Vincenzo Vasi: percussion instruments, chorus Abdel Vega: vihuelaAndrés Vásquez: violinAngelo Mancini: trumpetSergio Palencia: trumpetJacob Valenzuela: trumpet

IL BENE MIO (MY BELOVED) Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar, pianoAlessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitar

Victor Herrero: classical guitarEnza Pagliara: vocals

MADDALENA LA CASTELLANA (MADDALENA THE GIRL FROM BORGO CASTELLO)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, classical guitar

Glauco Zuppiroli: double bassAntonio Infantino: rattle-drum

Giovannangelo De Gennaro: zampogna (Italian bagpipes)

LA ZITA MIARosa Pennella: vocals

Marian Serban: cymbalonPetrica Namol: double bass

Albert Florian Mihai: accordion

LO SPOSALIZIO DI MALOSERVIZIO (THE WEDDING OF MALOSERVIZIO)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, piano, chorus Marian Serban: cymbalon, chorus Petrica Namol: double bass, chorus

Albert Florian Mihai: accordion, chorus Giovannangelo De Gennaro: vielle, chorus

Giovanni Briulo: mandolinGiuseppe Galgano “Tottacreta”: accordion

Antonio Daniele: drums

IL LUTTO DELLA SPOSA (THE BRIDE’S MOURNING)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, piano, electric harmonium

Giovannangelo De Gennaro: vielle

IL TRENO (THE TRAIN)Vinicio Capossela: vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, percussion instruments, and chorus

Joey Burns: double bassJohn Convertino: drums

Howe Gelb: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, chorus Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: charango, tubular bells, lap steel, classical guitar, harmonica, and maracas

Vincenzo Vasi: percussion instrumentsFrancesco Arcuri: singing saw

Victor Herrero: vihuela

LA GOLONDRINAVinicio Capossela: chorus

Franco Maffucci “Parrucca”: classical guitar, chorus Giovanni Briulo: mandolin, chorus Giovanni Buldo: guitarrón, chorus

Giuseppe Galgano “Tottacreta”: accordion, chorus Antonio Daniele: drums

Alessandro “Asso” Stefana: classical guitar

INDEX OF THE CREATURES INDEX OF THE PLACES

The beggars’ cryMy mistress

Swallow’s leapsHornfacePettarossa

Hornface - The supplement Rapatatumpa

DistanceThe night is beautiful in solitude

The beast in the wheat fieldMule’s rind

The Pumminale The creatures of the Cupa

The wedding of MaloservizioThe bride’s mourning

The train

SONGS• • • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 3 • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • 2 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •1 • • • • • • 1 • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • • 2 • • 1 •• 2 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • • •• • • • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • •• • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • 5 • • • • • • • • • • 1 2 • 4 • 2 • • • • • 2 • • • • • 2• 4 • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • 7 • • • • • • • • • 1 • • •• • • • • • • • 1 • • • • • • 1 1 • • • • 1 1 2 • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • 1 • • • • • • 3 • • • • • • •• 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • • 1 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 1 • •

Ass

Ass - Donkey

The B

east In The W

heat

Oxen

Dog

Dog

Donkey

Croaker

Goat

Wild Goat

White S

teed

Chicken

Cats

Owl

Hare

Werew

olfWo

lfMu

leGoose

Dove

Sheep

Swine

Swine

Pumm

inale

Quail

Canebra

ke Snake

Snake

Bull

Bird

Viper

Fox

CREATURES

Cortino (Name of a stream, tributary of river Ofanto)

CascinaGrange

Foggia

SENTIERO DELLA CUPATHE PATH OF THE CUPA

Il castelloThe castle

Il picone(name of a stream)

Carpato

L’Arco degli Zingari Gypsies’ arch

L’AdeThe underworld

L’infernoNetherworld

Il camposantoThe graveyard

La checchina(A cloak and dagger midwife from Foggia)

La fontanaThe fountainIl forno di Toglia

The baker’s of Toglia

Il ponte di cinque luciThe five lights’ bridge

Stazione di Ruvo RaponeThe station ofRuvo Rapone

Stazione di RocchettaRocchetta station

Il tesoro di San ZaccariaSt. Zacaria’s treasure

(27) I facciascialina di Monteverde(27) I Guardiesi(27) I Lacedonesi(27) I Morresi(27) I Santandriani(27) I Santangiolesi(27) I Santi di Carbonara(27) I Santi Martiri del Ricreo(22) I Vagabondi, Vagamundi(26) I Villani/Gualani(5) Il Cavaliere(17) Il Demone Meridiano(18, 19, 29) Il Diavolo(14) Il giovane(20) Il Maranchino(17) Il Mietitore(19) La Cuccuvascia(4, 11, 14, 19, 21, 27, 28) La figlia(4, 19) La Madonna(20) La Malaombra

INDEX OF THE CHARACTERS

Breccia (29)Capa Rossa (14)

Ciccio Cavallo (12)Componidori (23)

Cristo (2)Dagarola (4)Dio (11, 23)

Erode Il Re (21)Filomena (6)

Franceschina (7)Gli Accappanti, Accapponi (22, 26)

Gli Andrettesi (27)Gli omicidianti di Teora (27)

Grannaneta (26)I Bisazzari (27)I Calitrani (27)

I campesi forestieri (26)I Conzani (27)

I coppoloni (26, 27)

La moglie (15, 19, 27, 28)La padrona mia (3)

La sposa (28)La vecchia (8, 14)

Lachesi (26)Le creature della Cupa (20)

Le masciare (26, 27, 29, 19, 20, 21)Le Parche Masciare (26)

Liberto (4, 27)L’impiccato (20)

Maddalena la Castigliana (25)Maloservizio (26, 27)

Mandarino (29)Mastro Ciccio (11)

Mastro Giuseppe (19)Mazzamauriello (20)

(10) Peppe(29) Peppe Nacca(6) Pescatamonte(10) Pettarossa(29) Piscone(8) Quella di Contraloi(21) San Giovanni(11) Santo Liborio(22) Santo Michele(6) Scarola Riccia(29) Sonnoso(26) Sticchio(26) Suonatore(29) Tavolone(4, 29) Vituccio(4) Zia Luigia Stanco(4) Zia Matuccia

Produced by Vinicio Capossela, Taketo Gohara and Alessandro “Asso” Stefana.

Recorded by Taketo Gohara and Alessandro “Asso” Stefana with the Mobilis In Mobili in Calitri(AV) and by Andrea Cutri and Antonio Ferraro at Sinis Records, Cabras (OR). Additional recordings: Joe Treviño at BlueCat Recording Studio, San Antonio, Texas; Chris Schultzat WaveLab Studio, Tucson Arizona; Shane Smith at Blue Velvet, Santa Ana, Los Angeles; VitoCestone with the Mobilis In Mobili in Calitri (AV); Tommy Cavalieri at Sorriso Studios, Bari.

Mixed by Taketo Gohara with the Mobilis In Mobili at Ranch Polestra, Contrada Alta Sierra.

Mastered by Giovanni Versari at La Maestà, Tredozio (FC).

Protools operator: Stefania BonominiTechnical supervision in Calitri: Vito CestonePiano tuning and assistance: Egidio Galvan

Photography: Valerio Spada

Artwork: Jacopo Leone etc.etc.

Executive production: La Cùpa srlLegal advice: Patrizio ViscoCoordination for La Cùpa: Franco Bassi, Luca Bernini and Stefania Bonomini

* Songs recorded in Cabras in the 2003 sessionFemmine, Il lamento dei mendicanti, L’acqua chiara alla fontana, Faccia di corno,Pettarossa, Nachecici, Lu furastiero, La lontananza, La notte è bella da soli, Il bene mio.

Songs recorded in Calitri in the 2015 session La padrona mia, Dagarola del Carpato, Zompa la rondinella, Franceschina la calitrana,Sonetti, Faccia di corno - L’aggiunta, Rapatatumpa, La bestia nel grano, Scorza di mulo,Il Pumminale, Le creature della Cupa, La notte di San Giovanni, L’angelo della luce, Componidori, Maddalena la castellana, La zita mia, Lo sposalizio di Maloservizio,Il lutto della sposa, Il treno.

Lyrics and music by Vinicio Capossela, except where noted.

Edizioni La Cùpa, except where noted.

Translations: Emanuela Cassol

www.viniciocapossela.it

Credits

Maria Cestone “The Bersagliera”, who relentlessly fed, supported and encouraged us, thus revivingthe noble good neighbourliness institution, and whose memory this album is devoted to. Armando“Testadiuccello”, whose bard’s gaze has expanded our confined boundaries. Canio Vallario “UccioB’llino”, poet, songs’ depositary and renovator. Adrian Paci. Aniello Russo, whose writings onfolklore have turned out to be a major source of inspiration. Addolorata Lia, who has guided meinto the world of “Ada”. Mariangela Capossela, for her heart and her gaze. Franco, Giuseppe,Giovanni and Cunegonda Fiordellisi, whose generosity rekindles the landscape. Concetta Zarrilli“Scatozza”, the Di Gugliemo family, Giovanni Sicuranza. The village of Calitri and all its “cumversationalists” (Patrnett’, Cuplicchij, Paulett, Quequ, Gilorm, Spaccacpoghj, Bubbù, Apastora, Serafino “l’anconese” and many more). Roberto Capossela for “L’aggiunta” (The Supplement). Daniele and Vincenzo Capossela. Raffaele Salvante and his “Il calitrano”. AlfonsoNannariello (for “l’Angelo della Luce”). Mrs. Maria Grazia Zarrilli “Graziella”, Mrs. Francesca Cicoira, Mrs. Francesca Gaultieri and Mrs. Vincenza Di Maio. Federica Di Maio. Emma Basile. Michele Maffucci. Angela Martiniello “La Totara”. Lucia and Michelina Capossela. Matteo Salvatore. Franco Salvatore. Enzo Cavalli. Rita Allevato (advice). Gianni Mura (support). CarloFeltrinelli (musical advisor). Angelo Carrera. Luciano Linzi (expertise). Luca Bernini (omniscience). For the recordings of Cabras: Ettore Caretta, Duende. Nepal, Riccardo Pittau, Aurelio Serra. Geppetto. Francesca Barberio for having introduced me to Componidori. Andrea Parodi and AntonioGramentieri for the US mission. Cristina Montesi. Paolo Pisanelli.Francesca Leoncini. Antonio De Marco. Elettra. Anthony Polestra. The family Rocco Briuolo, Vito,Antonietta, Rosa Pennella. Michaela and her “goatidities”. Banda della Posta. Sponz Fest. SponzArti. Vito Cestone. The family Sacchetta (neighbourliness). Diego Giliotti and his possessed explorer’s stick. Marco Stefanini. Cagna Rina, Tito Stefanini for the graceful hospitality that ledto the conception of “The Train”. To all those who dreamt the train. To those who came and those who’ll come along.

Thank you

OMBRA (SHADOW)LA BESTIA NEL GRANOSCORZA DI MULOIL PUMMINALELE CREATURE DELLA CUPALA NOTTE DI SAN GIOVANNIL’ANGELO DELLA LUCECOMPONIDORIIL BENE MIOMADDALENA LA CASTELLANALO SPOSALIZIO DI MALOSERVIZIOIL LUTTO DELLA SPOSAIL TRENO

Polvere (DUST)FEMMINE

IL LAMENTO DEI MENDICANTILA PADRONA MIA

DAGAROLA DEL CARPATOL’ACQUA CHIARA ALLA FONTANA

ZOMPA LA RONDINELLAFRANCESCHINA LA CALITRANA

SONETTIFACCIA DI CORNO

PETTAROSSAFACCIA DI CORNO - L’AGGIUNTA

NACHECICILU FURASTIERORAPATATUMPA

LA LONTANANZALA NOTTE È BELLA DA SOLI

VINICIO CAPOSSELACANZONI DELLA CUPA