The initial part of Spleen evokes an atmosphere almost suspended that becomes more and more complicated from a formal and expressive point of view. It is a kind of meditative soliloquy, underlined from very and very touching and intense variations, where the timbre colours the expression and it is a relevant element of the same structure. The sound dilates, compresses, lies down, dissolves into something else, is left suspended, slides along unforeseeable lines, continuously running across chromatic itineraries. The long extensive musical phrases have been suppressed. Each score disappears. Some episodes of a sole sound event define themselves explosive passions. All is left suspended in a balance where the immobility is only apparent and hides a multitude that is swarming with life. The sequence doesn’t begin or end, but it becomes, suddenly. And stops being, it doesn’t end. Each attraction and gravitation seems to be cancelled out. The music, forgetful of joys and sorrows, seems to hover lightly and glide, finding its rightful place in an impalpable beyond the emotional sphere.
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