Ero alle Porte Dell’Est. Forse by Oronzo Persano and Francesco Silvestro

Review of Ero alle Porte Dell’Est. Forse by Oronzo Persano and Francesco Silvestro

This CD, released in 2013 for the record company Lira Classica, won the prize for the best title of 2013. Far away from the Babylonian-Assyrian-Mesopotamian reminiscences of the italian pop singer Franco Battiato, this is a serious and staid contemporary music and classic guitar’s cd. The author of all music is the Italian Maestro Oronzo Persano, born in 1944, who dedicated himself for several years to teaching our favorite instrument and to attempt to push the limits of the classical repertoire. This CD is played by his talented former student Francesco Silvestro and represents a milestone in his classical guitar’s production joining a compositional repertoire from 1978 until 1999.
I was pleasantly surprised by listening to this CD because I didn’t know both the composer and the interpreter: the cd is great and the music is really very interesting. All songs performed here demonstrate a remarkable stylistic maturity  and a considerable knowledge of the expressive possibilities of the six classical strings. There are four compositions performed here: Prefica Salentina (1978), Ecce Homo (1987) Ero alla porte dell’Est. Forse (1997) and Sette lette mai scritte (1999). Persano is a fine “designer” with an absolutely personal style that manages to blend in nice and interesting ways all the possibilities offered by contemporary music, I can feel a kind of personal metaphysics underlying the Sound that he manages to express from his classical guitar, an evolution of thought and an almost philosophical maturity that finds the perfect ground in Francesco Silvestro’s ability as his interpreter. Francesco, who was his pupil, has been able to grasp and highlight this style and this line of thinking that sometime almost touches isolationism. 
I would like to suggest a score over all: Prefica Salentina where short melodic sketches, jumping strings, spitting sound alternate with pure emotional silences from which Silvestri’s guitar dips and emerges constantly, almost like a Takemitsu who came to bathe in our Mediterranean seas.