Otherlands Collaboration #31
Date: May 16, 2022 • Location: Genoa, Italy
After my last collaboration with Stefano Valla and Daniel Scurati, I couldn’t resist taking a one-day trip to Cremona—the home of Stradivari and the birthplace of the modern violin as we know it. Three highlights stand out: visiting the Museo del Violino, where Amatis, Guarneris, and Strads were on display; touring the Violin Making School, where I thought they’d enjoy seeing and hearing my 5-string fiddle (the response was curious but underwhelming); and sitting on a bench with a statue of Stradivari outside his former house, showing him my 5-string fiddle.
The next afternoon, I was heading back toward Genoa, to a small northern village where I’d be giving a workshop the following day. I thought my Otherlands collaborations for this trip were finished—until I received a text during my workshop. It was from an organetto player many people recommended I meet: Filippo Gambetta. We’d actually been corresponding about a session, tossing around dates and even a few tunes. In fact, Filippo had really encouraged me to take the trip to Stefano and Daniele—but then we lost contact.
[To learn more about Filippo’s music, please visit his website or Facebook.]
Filippo had been traveling and was on his way back to Genoa. He could meet tomorrow afternoon. Perfect. I was also headed to Genoa, where I’d be for the next week rehearsing and playing the concert series that brought me to Italy in the first place. Aside from a first dinner with my Genoan hosts and the other musicians on the show, I was available.
The weather was set to be beautiful, so we agreed to meet in a park, hang, and try playing a few things. If it worked out, we talked about finding time later in the week to record. Not wanting this opportunity to slip away, I stuffed what gear I could into my backpack—just in case…
We drove east along the coast to Nervi, a former fishing village turned scenic district of Genoa on the Italian Riviera. The first park we tried was closed for a floral exposition. We continued on, detouring toward the water. Instead of a beach, the shoreline was all cliffs and rocks—with a few topless sunbathers.
Hiking back up, we found a quiet, shady spot by a closed building. The courtyard had a dry fountain with a cherub at the center and benches surrounding it. It looked perfect.
Filippo suggested we try music from the same Quattro Province tradition as Stefano and Daniele—a great starting point. He played me a type of dance tune called a monferrina. This particular melody was first recorded by ethnomusicologist Bruno Pianta, capturing Ernesto Sala singing it. (Note: Sala was the teacher of pifferaio Stefano Valla in the village of Cegni.) The form was A BB C DD, with a four-bar vamp between parts. I don’t know if that form is common for the style, but I remembered the use of vamps from my time with Stefano and Daniele.
The melody—Monferrina di Napoleone—was full of things that get me excited about a new tune: more than two parts, a form that’s different from what I’m used to, and a couple of extra beats thrown in. But that combination also makes melodies harder for me to pick up quickly. Filippo slowed it down and isolated sections, but my retention was still struggling. I also wanted to try recording that day, so I’m sure the added pressure to learn and perform didn’t help.
People would stop and listen. Dogs barked in the distance. The weather was perfect. Filippo wondered if we should wait and record later in the week, since I was still learning—but I hoped we’d give it a try while we were there. Learning aside, playing together felt really comfortable…easy, even. Dynamically and rhythmically, we were feeling things in a similar way. I liked this duo.
Switching into my audio/visual brain, I had to figure out how to set up my limited gear. We got creative, using the benches and fountain to our advantage. In the process, I think I lost some of the nuance of the tune.
Filippo suggested playing the melody slower and more fluid than the traditional dance rhythm. I loved this—it gave me another way into the same tradition I had explored with Stefano and Daniele. I also recognized a kinship with Filippo: someone deeply rooted in tradition, but open and curious about new interpretations.
At times, it felt like we were one instrument, breathing in sync. Our goal was to get through the tune twice, but it was tough without forgetting bits along the way. We’d been at it for a while and our focus was fading. Honestly, I thought we’d captured enough to use—but neither of us felt we had really nailed it. We couldn’t resist trying one more time.
“Let’s play the intro twice as long,” Filippo said.
Somehow, that shifted everything. We landed in a different headspace—playing conversationally with spontaneity, and not only remembered everything, but found great dynamics, ebbing and flowing in a way that felt fresh to both of us.
As soon as we finished the take, park security arrived to say it was closing time. We had ten minutes to pack up. I guess that was it—and it really did feel like the one.
“Not many dogs!” Filippo said smiling. I hadn’t noticed until that moment, but he was right. Maybe that was the secret.
I scrambled to break everything down, and we walked back to the car. At some point, I remembered I’d turned my phone off while using it as one of the cameras. I had no idea what time it was—and I’d been so absorbed in the music that I’d completely forgotten about dinner. I was supposed to meet my hosts and the other musicians at 7:30 p.m. in the hotel lobby.
I turned my phone on. 7:40!!!
Almost immediately, my host called. I think they’d been worried and trying to reach me. I felt terrible for keeping them waiting.
“Don’t worry, Casey,” came the good-humored reply to my apologies. “You will buy the champagne.”
CREDITS
Song: Monferrina di Napoleone (Traditional)
Organetto: Filippo Gambetta
Fiddle/Audio/Video: Casey Driessen
Arranged by: Filippo Gambetta, Casey Driessen
SPECIAL THANKS
Beppe Gambetta
Giulio Venier