Dino Saluzzi Group - El Valle de la Infancia (2014)

Artista: Dino Saluzzi Group

Álbum: El Valle de la Infancia
Año: 2014
Género: Jazz fusión / Latin jazz / Tango
Duración: 62:27
Nacionalidad: Argentina

Lista de Temas:
01. Sombras
02. La Polvadera
03. Pueblo, Pt. I - Labrador
04. Pueblo, Pt. II - Salavina
05. Pueblo, Pt. III - La Tristecita
06. A mi Padre y a mi Hijo
07. Churqui
08. Urkupina, Pt. I - Salida del Templo
09. Urkupina, Pt. II - Ruego, Procesion y Entronacion
10. La Fiesta Popular, Pt. I - La Danza
11. La Fiesta Popular, Pt. II - Galanteo
12. La Fiesta Popular, Pt. III - La perseguida
13. La Fiesta Popular, Pt. IV - Atardecer
14. La Fiesta Popular, Pt. V - En la quebrada de Lules
15. Tiempos Primeros, Pt. I - La Arribena
16. Tiempos Primeros, Pt. II - La casa paterna

Alineación:
- Dino Saluzzi / bandoneon
- José María Saluzzi / guitar, requinto guitar
- Nicolás “Colacho” Brizuela / guitar
- Félix “Cuchara” Saluzzi / tenor saxophone, clarinet
- Matías Saluzzi / electric bass, double bass
- Quintino Cinalli / drums, percussion

Y miren que maravilla les traigo antes de que se acabe la semana, no se pueden quejar de lo que les dejo, ahora el último disco del maestro, un recorrido por la nostalgia y los sonidos familiares de la juventus en su provincia, Salta la que le dicen "la linda", como una pecosa damita sonriente que nos ilumina el alma.

Argentinean bandoneonist-composer-improviser Dino Saluzzi returns to his roots with El Valle de la Infancia. Recorded in Buenos Aires, it’s the first of his discs to feature his “family band” since 2005’s Juan Condori. Here Dino is heard with his brother Felix on tenor sax and clarinet, his son José María on guitars and nephew Matías on basses. Friends joining the party are 7-string guitarist Nicolás “Colacho” Brizuela, known internationally for his long association with singer Mercedes Sosa, and drummer Quintino Cinalli, brought in by Dino to gently expand the sense of freedom that informs his music. “This work is alive with different genres”, writes Leopoldo Castilla in the liner notes. “From dances such as zamba to carnavalito to chacarera... The music captures the natural world of its origins; North Argentina, ablaze with mourning, despairing with joy.”

El estilo único del maestro, en un disco íntimo, tocando con su familia de músicos, un disco con mucha emotividad... el pulso vibrante de diferentes estilos de música popular contemporánea combinados en la experimentación de Saluzzi, con improvisaciones de gran densidad atmosférica, profundidad emocional y gran libertad musical. Bueno, si sigo escribiendo publico este disco la semana que viene, así que mejor dejo el siguiente comentario, más algunos en inglés para aquel curioso que quiera leerlos, pero publico el disco ahora...

El título apela a la primera memoria, a un territorio abonado a la nostalgia, algo que el bandoneonista ha frecuentado cuando no entregado directamente al sentir melodramático. Pero pese a su apellido de origen italiano, algo que marca carácter al fundirse cerca de la Pampa, dicen, Saluzzi es un argentino raro, de pocas palabras y nada amigo de la retórica. Y si apuran, un creador cuya obra no está circunscrita ni acotada por el tango ni mucho menos por los fotogramas de Jean-Luc Godard, cineasta fundador de La Nouvelle Vague que ha incorporado la música de Saluzzi en sus imágenes más que de ningún otro artista ECM.
Saluzzi es de Campo Santo, en la región de Salta, “la reserva” de los indígenas argentinos situada en la frontera entre Bolivia, Paraguay y Chile. Allí tuvo una infancia humilde y luminosa, contaba en una entrevista, pese a ser, o quizá por ello mismo, un lugar apartado de la civilización, sin luz eléctrica ni muchos medios técnicos. Salta está en un valle, el de la infancia de nuestro músico. En él creció y en el se han hecho posible, como sucede en el valle de la otra Infancia de Egberto Gismonti, el encuentro entre músicas académicas, jazz y folclore autóctono. Por eso a Saluzzi se le puede ver con Enrico Rava (Volver, 1986) o Charlie Haden (Once Upon a time, 1985), con el Rosamunde Quartet (Kultrum 1998) o Anja Lechner (El Encuentro, 2010) y con un conjunto típico como intenta serlo aquí y en Mojotoro (1992).
Saluzzi y Gismonti, dos autores latinoamericanos que llevaron su música, como Piazzolla o Villalobos antes, a las alturas de los grandes teatros. Aunque El Valle de la Infancia no pretende llegar ahí, ni mucho menos. Es este un disco dividido en varias suites (también lo era el del brasileño al que siguió Música de Sobrevicênçia) en las que se intenta narrar una pequeña historia, describir unos instantes, acaso dibujar una paisaje humano y natural que ya no existe. “Pueblo”, “La Fiesta Popular”, “Tiempos Primeros” son como capítulos de una memoria escrita que cobra vida en sonidos.
Estas estampas de felicidad, de sonrisa infantil, de vida que crece en un ambiente humilde y solidario, nos devuelven al mejor Saluzzi, como si conversara en solitario, como en sus discos Kultrum (1983) o Andino (1988), el músico y su grupo (casi toda su familia) nos invita, con la voz amiga y cálida de la guitarra, a un viaje lleno de vitalidad, color y verdad. Lejos del ruido de Buenos Aires, del tango porteño y rioplatense, dentro del folclore y las imágenes perdidas en un valle fértil.
Un trabajo cálido y espotáneo, que huye de la pesadrumbre y se sumerge en una mirada tierna y contemplativa sobre el folclore y la pertenencia a un lugar, a mitad de camino entre Kultrum y Mojotoro, en la esencia.

Jesús Gonzalo

No dejen de disfrutar esta hermosura.

Argentine composer and bandoneón player Dino Saluzzi has worked in many different settings during his tenure with ECM. These include solo records, duos, trios, and one with the Rosamunde String Quartet. His most frequent collaborators are members of his family band, the Dino Saluzzi Group, which includes brother Felix on reeds and winds, son Jose Maria on guitars, and nephew Matías on basses. El Valle de la Infancia is only the third offering from the DSG, which debuted with Mojotoro in 1996 (sans Matías), then delivered Juan Condori in 2005. The quintet from the latter recording has been expanded to a sextet here with the addition of seven-string guitarist Nicolas "Colacho" Brizuela and new drummer Quintino Cinalli. Recorded in Buenos Aires, this set features stand-alone compositions and four suites and is a fine example of Saluzzi as musical storyteller and medium. He has also been a composer, improviser, and instrumentalist, communicating the depths of his country's folk music history in a distinct modern language that never forsakes tradition. He wrote three-quarters of the selections here, including the opener "Sombras," a tune that walks the line between Argentinian dance music, nueva cancion jazz, and structured improvisation; it seems to travel further back in time as it plays. "La Polvadera" commences abstractly before it becomes a dance, with luxuriant solo guitar interludes underscored by bandoneon and bass. Jose Marie's haunting, achingly beautiful "Labrador" opens the "Pueblo Suite," which finishes with a reading of the iconic Argentine composer Ariel Ramirez's tender "La Tristecita," featuring bluesy saxophone playing from Felix in interplay with Dino. "A Mi Padre y a Mi Hijo" explores everything from tango to characera to modern jazz. The second part of the "Urkupiña" suite, "Ruego, Procesión y Entronación" is a deeply meditative song that evolves from the contemplative to the revelatory with engaging dialogue between the guitarists as Cinalli's drums highlight its processional root as the bandoneon broods and accents, guiding the changes. Five glorious miniatures -- all under two minutes, make up the "La Fiesta Popular" suite, which re-opens musica folklorica styles to contemporary consideration. Brizuela is a guiding light through the chámame of "La Perseguida" -- he spent years working with Mercedes Sosa. The reading of nueva cancion composer Atahualpa Yupanqui's "La Arribeña" is bittersweet, a midtempo dance offering with lovely interplay between bass, bandoneon, and guitars. El Valle de la Infancia employs a complex yet utterly beguiling, resonant language as perhaps the most magical and accessible of the Dino Saluzzi Group's recordings.

Thom Jurek

The wonderful Argentinian bandoneón player and composer Dino Saluzzi has long maintained his traditional "family band" (including his brother Felix on saxes, son José Maria on guitars and nephew Matias on electric and acoustic basses) alongside his many genre-crossing ventures since the 1980s. Like so much of Saluzzi's more traditional work, El Valle de la Infancia (much of it inspired by places in his and Felix's childhood) conveys a strong sense of personal journeys to special places and the stories that began there; evoked by episodes such as the multi-thematic Sombras, with its delicate, piping sounds, tumbling-stream melodies and gliding rhythms; the slowly joyous dance in between guitar ruminations on La Polvadera; and José Maria's beautiful unfolding of his own haunting melody on the first part of the Pueblo suite. Dino Saluzzi's delightful La Fiesta Popular (a sequence of five fragments) catches this band's unusual mix of sensual sounds, fluid guitar melodies and varied bass textures, and tenor sax and bandonéon prance together with a deliciously solemn vivacity on En la quebrada de Lules. It all muses more than it gallops, but its nostalgic, lost-in-dreams quality is very beguiling.

John Fordham

In his 32-year relationship with ECM Records, Argentinean bandoneonist Dino Saluzzi has explored many paths—paths upon which he has rarely traveled more than once, even if there were certain road marks common to them all. A pair of trio recordings with his son, guitarist José Maria Saluzzi, employed two different bassists—Marc Johnson on 1997's Cité de la Musique and Palle Danielsson on 2003's Responsorium—their graceful elegance possessing a similar but different intimacy when compared to the bandoneonist's ongoing duo with cellist Anja Lechner, which first began with Ojos Negros (2007) but then expanded to a trio with the addition of his brother, saxophonist/clarinetist Félix "Cuchara" Saluzzi, together alone on 2011's Navidad de los Andes, following the trio's first encounter on El Encuentro (2010), a more sweepingly ambitious orchestral project.
There have only been two contexts within which Saluzzi has worked more than once: first, the solo recital of his 1983 ECM debut, Kultrum and its 1988 follow-up Andina; and second, his Dino Saluzzi Group, longstanding despite only three recordings to its name—1992's Mojotoro, 2006's Juan Condori, and now, El Valle de la Infancia. Still, these three recordings may be connected by name and the consistent lineup of Saluzzi's son (though José Maria actually started on drums on Mojotoro, making his first appearance as a guitarist on Cité de la Musique) and the bandoneonist's brother Félix; but if these three members of the Saluzzi family have brought some consonance to their small discography, the shifting of the rest of the personnel and attendant additional instrumentation have also made each recording an entity unto itself, with the repertoires clearly predicated on their distinct lineups.
Expanding Juan Condori's quintet to a sextet—with bassist Matías Saluzzi another consistent band member, but drummer U.T. Gandhi replaced by Quintino Cinalli and guitarist Nicolas "Colacho" Brizuela added to the mix—El Valle de la Infancia is largely a more intimate, gentle and, in some cases, rubato affair; less a full-on group project and more a series of miniatures that form, in turn, a series of suites and a stronger sense of compositional form, as on the opening "Sombras," written by Dino Saluzzi who, as usual, contributes the lion's share of the material.
"Pueblo," a three-part suite, opens with "Labrador," a melancholic duet between José Saluzzi and Brizuela; "Salavina, written by Mario Arnedo Gallo, continues the duet but, halfway through, brings Dino into the picture, first solo and then with Cinalli and bassist Matías, leading to a final minute where, with a breezier pulse, the guitarists are brought back in support of the bandoneon's warm and, despite remaining minor-keyed, somehow more propitious melody. It acts as a segue into Ariel Ramírez's closing "La Tristecita," where bandoneon and saxophone engage—that most lovely sound of reed coupled with reed—before the rest of the group gradually reenters, bringing the nearly 10-minute suite to a more buoyant and optimistic conclusion.
The bandoneonist's "A Mi Padre y a Mi Hijo" is an episodic, ten-minute composition that covers a surprising amount of ground, its gentle, rubato opening colored by Cinalli's cymbals, leading to a breezy, guitar-driven initial statement of the theme by Dino. As Matías Saluzzi engages, a more defined tempo asserts itself in time for a brief but eminently lyrical tenor saxophone solo that leads to a recapitulation of the theme and, ultimately, a bandoneon solo that suddenly turns a cappella. A set-up in itself, it dissolves into a softly stated drum solo that segues into an arpeggio-drive closing section where guitar, bandoneon and saxophone speak with a single voice, bolstered by Matías' gentle arco and CInalli's swelling cymbals, only to turn to an electric bass solo that combines flamenco-like strumming with octave glissandi. A bandoneon/cajón duet follows, the introduction to a contrapuntal finale that, ultimately, brings elements of all that's come before together for a conclusion that's as surprising as it is inevitable.
While there's plenty of form to be found, there's no shortage of freedom either; the two-part "Urkupiña" suite opens with the rubato "Salida del Templo," a sketch of a composition that relies on the ears of the group to construct an improv-heavy but still objective-driven piece that ultimately acts as an introduction to "Ruego, Procesión y Entonación," a softer ballad where, following the out-of-time theme, the heartbeat-like pulse of Matías' electric bass, a low, droning bandoneon and spare clarinet lines that seem to blend in with the bandoneon provide the foundation over which both guitarists solo—one following the other, as the second moves into darker climes while the rest of the group gradually coalesces to return to the now almost-forgotten theme with greater dramaturgic energy.
In many ways, every Saluzzi album represents an ongoing consolidation of what's come before. Since Juan Condori, the bandoneonist has worked in everything from intimate duos to grander orchestral climes as he's explored a most personal nexus where Argentinean folk tradition and contemporary classicism meet. While the emphasis of El Valle de la Infancia certainly leans more on the tradition, the manner in which Saluzzi has constructed his compositions is clearly informed by more complex means. Cinematic in its evocation of places most who hear this music will never have seen, El Valle de la Infancia is yet another step along one of the many paths traversed by a 79 year-old bandoneonist who, contrary to most at his stage in life, continues to grow and hone his craft. That he continues make music—not just this good, but making music, period—as he approaches octogenarian status in 2015, is surely something to be cherished—and something for which his fans should be truly grateful.

John Kelman

Dino Saluzzi has been a leading figure in South American music for decades. He first became noticed in the 1970s, initially with Gato Barbieri, however his career really took off after recording under the ECM label in 1982. Since then, he has worked with the likes of Charlie Mariano, Enrico Rava, Tomasz Stańko and Charlie Haden, and has amassed a large catalogue of music.
Born in 1935 in Campo Santo – a remote town in northern Argentina - Saluzzi took up the bandoneon when he was seven, and led his first group at 14. Saluzzi's “family band” made it's first album with the ECM label in 1991, and El Valle de la Infancia, their first recording since 2005, is an affectionate reference to the people and places of their origins. A handful of tunes on this album are by his fellow countrymen, however Saluzzi is the primary composer and the most prominent instrumentalist.
Sombras is a magnificent opener to the album, creating a calm sonority and distinguished by the warm interplay between bandoneon and two guitars. I was quickly won over by the light, accurate electric bass playing of Dino’s nephew, Matías Saluzzi, reminiscent of Steve Swallow. La Polvadera is quietly impressionistic, interrupted when an off-kilter dance emerges. The bandoneon’s reedy sound oozes melancholy, and the gentle noise of its mechanical clicking and wheezing is strangely beguiling.
The understanding between the six musicians is so entrenched that precise arrangements were not necessary. Dino explains: “I also leave much of it open and we really discover how to play it together”. His brother Félix “Cuchara” Saluzzi’s haunting tenor saxophone sound is heard during the longest track, A mi Padre y a mi Hijo, but no-one dominates; it’s particularly loose and relaxed.
Some of the album is presented in a series of suites. The three-part Pueblo starts with the unaccompanied guitar of José Maria Saluzzi. Integrating brilliantly with the family members on the wistful Salavina is guitarist Nicolás “Colacho” Brizuela, and the subtle contribution by percussionist Quintino Cinalli is perfect throughout, right down to the solitary bell at the end of La Tristecita.
Saluzzi says, “We don’t want to impress with power”. They don’t need to. Part 2 of Urkupiña, 'Ruego, Procesión y Entonación', displays this with exquisitely restrained drama. The album concludes with Tiempos Primeros, a suite that pairs La Arribeña with La casa paterna. Like everything before, it is delivered with style and grace.
As an expression of the Saluzzi's family and friends’ enduring love for their country and each other, El Valle de la Infancia is both beautiful and remarkably touching.

Andy Boeckstaens

Over the past three decades of his association with Munich-based ECM Records, Argentine bandoneón virtuoso Dino Saluzzi has built a new home, but through his output on the label has traced so far back down his old roots that with El Valle de la Infancia (The Valley of Childhood) he might at last have reached the center of the earth. Playing once again with his “in-house” band, last heard with slightly different personnel on 2006’s Juan Condori, he emotes seamlessly with brother Felix on reeds, son José on guitars, and nephew Matías on electric and upright bass. Guitarist Nicolás Brizuela and percussionist Quintino Cinalli round out the extended family portrait. As ever, Dino’s humble beginnings (his father worked on a sugar plantation and played the bandoneón in his spare time before becoming a noted composer himself) manifest themselves in every note, and he credits them with freeing his creative approach. Dino’s mastery is thus so organic that to name it as such barely renders a sketch of his capabilities, as evidenced by this latest excursion. As it turns out, the valley of his childhood is a bountiful place to be.
The program of Infancia juxtaposes standalone pieces alongside compact suites, all of which blend into a meta-narrative dotted by contemplative pauses. At its core, the music (mostly by Dino himself) thrives on warm, impressionistic feelings, so that whenever the band does cohere, the effect is dazzling. “Sombras” welcomes new listeners to one of the most recognizable sounds in all of modern South American music, and old listeners to a familiar, paternal squeeze of the shoulder. The title means “shades” and connotes a mission statement Dino has been crafting since he first laid hands on bellows. His bandoneón exhales magic so potent and with such familiarity, one would swear to have been born in the presence of its melodies. After an intimate introductory sweep, José’s guitar (occupying the mid-left channel) opens its currents and inspires Father Saluzzi to low-flying surveys. Cinalli’s brushed drums (there’s nary a stick to be discerned on the album) lighten the weight of their memory.
Biological linkages strengthen in “La Polvadera” and “A mi Padre y a mi Hijo” (For My Father and Son), each a coming together of such thematic clarity as to whisk the heart away on a cloud. Brizuela’s picking (mid-right channel) contrasts verdantly with José’s nuanced flutter and sway. The two guitarists combine beautifully over butterfly-kissed snare and cymbals in “Churqui.” Cinalli’s rhythmic details make the scenography all the more believable. His patter may be that of rain one moment, the next of a magician who excels in misdirection.
The album’s mini-suites usher in colors from adjacent plains, where crops give way to the tilling of a new generation. Ranging from two to five parts each, the suites cover a range of emotional stirrings and interpret tunes by a handful of late Argentine folk singer-songwriters among Dino’s own. Moods vary accordingly. From the dissonant rainforest activity and droning resolution of “Urkupiña” to the guitar-driven medley that is “La Fiesta Popular,” motifs find their way through thickest forest and driest riverbed alike. Even “Tiempos Primeros,” which nods deepest toward folk traditions, balances images of sleeping and waking in the final curlicue of wind.
The tripartite “Pueblo” captures the band at its purest shade yet. Its introductory guitar solo (“Labrador”), written and played to angelic perfection by José, preludes a nocturnally realized “Salavina,” the most famous zamba (not to be confused with samba) of Mario Arnedo Gallo (1915-2001). The subtle unity forged therein carries over into Part III, the quietly majestic “La Tristecita” by Ariel Ramírez (1921-2010). As throughout the album, each instrument holds its own in equal measure, serving the depth of restraint over the allure of drama. That said, Felix’s tenor casts an inescapable spell: jazzy, gritty, and tasting of soil. All of which labors to remind us that even the most ethereal prisms of art extract their light from the embers of that which came before.

RootsWorld

El Valle de la Infancia finds the great bandoneon master Dino Saluzzi at the top of his form on an achingly beautiful album with his 'family' of musicians - his brother, reeds player Felix 'Cuchara' Saluzzi, his guitarist son José Maria Saluzzi, and Felix's son Matias Saluzzi on bass - and with friends, guitarist Colacho Brizuela and percussionist Quintino Cinalli. Recorded in Buenos Aires, their enjoyment in making music together is palpable. This is Argentinian popular music at its most potent.
Dino Saluzzi returns to his roots, to retrieve, unchanged yet renewed, the music of his homeland in its essential brilliance. As says Leopoldo 'Teuco' Castilla in his liner notes: "He goes in search of melody and brings it to life; when he sings, the music feels boundless, more than music, a true evocation of people and place. The bandoneon breathes the air of burning sugar cane in the Siancas valley in Salta, Argentina; and the saxophone is the deepest cry."
"The music captures the natural world of its origins: North Argentina, ablaze with mourning, despairing with joy. Nature, in spirit and in its most ethereal form, brought to life in the hands of this creator. And also the prayers offered up to those Virgins of the high mountains, the Virgin of Urcupiña amongst others, by the people of that region and their Bolivian neighbours. The work is alive with different genres: from dances such as zamba to carnavalito to chacarera. Here, too, is the music of Buenos Aires. Saluzzi spins the hidden web secretly beating in the tango, delves deep into the milonga, wounded yet strong, intrinsic yet expressive."

Un tremendo regalito que les dejo para que disfruten en el fin de semana. No se pueden quejar!