Frozen

FROZEN is the first track from my latest album SPRING WILL COME: static chords prop up a glacial, unmoving fixity, a musical metaphor meant to capture the feeling of a suspended world, petrified by uncertainty and fear, frozen by the upheavals we were helplessly witnessing. The unreal silence that suddenly enveloped us was so unusual, especially in cities, that it resonated as ominous because of the emptiness of meaning it suggested and because it unmistakably showed our loneliness: for too many years we had nurtured it, convinced to the point of self-harm by current narratives that joy and happiness were connected to the acquisition of something and forgetting how important others are. But since, as they say, “the darkest hour is the hour before the dawn, and only through the night can you reach the light” in that moment an extraordinary transformative opportunity opened up: in that silence, in that emptiness we could finally become aware of our deep needs and our relationships with others. We could rediscover the value of solidarity and cooperation, and understand that true well-being and happiness come not from having more and more, but from sharing and being part of a community.