Faber: A Jazz Tribute to the Music of Fabrizio De André

Description

There are voices that speak, others that sing, and then there are those rare voices that listen—to the world, to its wounds, to the fragile beauty of humanity. Fabrizio De André was one of these rare voices.
Poet, songwriter, thinker, iconoclast. A craftsman of words and melodies who painted with the tones of compassion, irony, rebellion, and tenderness. In Italy, he was not just an artist, but a moral compass for generations—a man who made the forgotten visible and gave voice to those silenced by history.
His music never shouted, but it pierced. It spoke softly of love and loss, of prostitutes and priests, of war and exile, of freedom and injustice. And always with a language that balanced clarity and mystery, realism and poetry. It is no coincidence that his nickname, Faber, given by his lifelong friend Paolo Villaggio, came from his childhood love for Faber-Castell pencils. De André was, in essence, a draftsman of souls—a man who drew life with subtle, unfiltered lines.
This album, Faber, is a journey into that world. A project that seeks not to replicate, but to reimagine De André’s music through the language of contemporary jazz. Pianist and composer Pasquale Stafano, along with Daniele Cappucci on double bass and Fabio Accardi on drums, offers a new and personal interpretation of these iconic songs—joined by the emotive voice of Badrya Razem and the poetic touch of Vince Abbracciante on accordion.
Recorded in the acoustically rich Sala Crescendo in Bari, the album is a dialogue across generations and genres. The selection of pieces traces an emotional and thematic arc within De André’s oeuvre, highlighting his brilliance as a songwriter and narrator of the human condition.
Each piece in Faber carries its own world, and we approached every song with a specific vision—one that balances respect for the original with the creative freedom of jazz.
Bocca di Rosa opens with a lively trio arrangement infused with Latin rhythms. This energetic reinterpretation brings out the playfulness of the melody while highlighting its narrative charm. The groove is tight, joyful, and elegant—letting the song dance without losing its edge.
La canzone di Marinella after an introduction with solo piano, begins as a gentle dialogue between the double bass and the left hand of the piano, softly echoing the melody like a memory surfacing from afar. The rhythm then opens up into a soft Brazilian choro feel, giving this tragic lullaby a graceful, flowing lightness that contrasts beautifully with its dark undertone.
Andrea takes on a completely new identity. Arranged in an odd time signature and sung by Badrya Razem, the song becomes haunting and bold, its harmonic shifts adding a fresh layer of emotional depth to this tale of lost innocence.
Amore che vieni, amore che vai is perhaps the most radically reimagined track. The original’s delicate melancholy gives way to a rhythmically powerful version, built on rich chord substitutions and modern jazz textures. Sung with intensity by Badrya, it becomes an emotional storm, intimate and forceful at once.
Prinçesa, performed in quartet with Vince Abbracciante on accordion, brings together rhythmic precision and deep lyricism. The trio lays down a vibrant yet sensitive foundation, while Vince’s accordion weaves in and out of the textures, echoing the vulnerability and resilience of the song’s protagonist.
Crêuza de mä is one of De André’s most iconic works, and here it’s stripped down to a trio setting. The rhythmic pulse nods to its Mediterranean roots, while Badrya vocalizes the bridge in a moment of raw, wordless emotion—blending language and sound into something timeless.
Canzone dell’amore perduto opens with a tender solo from the double bass, which carries the melody before the trio joins in. The song unfolds like a classic American ballad—introspective, spacious, and lyrical, drawing its power from what is said and what is left unsaid.
Il pescatore, performed with Vince Abbracciante, becomes a poetic ballad with folk-jazz undertones. The arrangement is warm and understated, allowing the storytelling to remain front and center while letting the interplay between accordion and piano bring the sea breeze gently into the room.
Each piece on this album is more than a reinterpretation—it is a translation into a different musical idiom that preserves the soul of the original while revealing new perspectives. Jazz becomes the space where these stories breathe differently, where silence plays as much a role as sound.
The arrangements of the songs are by Fabio Accardi except La canzone di Marinella arranged by Pasquale Stafano and Bocca di Rossa arranged by all three musicians.
De André was profoundly influenced by the French chanson tradition. Echoes of Georges Brassens, Jacques Brel, and Serge Gainsbourg, his spiritual brothers can be felt throughout the album. Their poetic legacy meets De André’s Italian vision, and this encounter is mirrored in the interplay between piano, accordion, voice, and rhythm section.
The musicians involved in this project bring a rich and varied experience to the table. Pasquale Stafano’s lyrical piano storytelling is deeply rooted in the European jazz tradition, blending classical sensitivity and Mediterranean spirit. Daniele Cappucci offers a solid yet nuanced foundation on double bass, while Fabio Accardi provides subtle dynamic textures on drums, favoring dialogue over display, three soloists that add something special in this music. Badrya Razem’s voice adds an expressive layer, delicate, emotional, and deeply human. Vince Abbracciante’s accordion, melodic and cinematic, serves as a thread that binds tradition to innovation.
The idea for Faber was born not as a formal tribute, but as a personal need, the desire to revisit music that had shaped each of us, that had accompanied us in moments of thought, protest, and love.
Fabrizio De André’s songs are not just part of Italy’s cultural memory, they are part of our inner memory as musicians and as people.
We grew up with these stories in our ears and hearts.
During rehearsals and performances, fragments of his melodies would emerge spontaneously, almost as if they were waiting to be brought into the present. From there, the project gradually took shape: a jazz reinterpretation that wouldn’t smooth out the edges of De André’s writing, but would bring them to light in new ways—through harmony, improvisation, and space.
We didn’t want to merely “jazzify” De André, but to create a meeting point between his poetics and the expressive freedom of our language. A new voice for old stories. A way to feel closer, again, to something true.
What makes Faber truly special is that it does not attempt to replicate the voice of De André, it listens to it, and responds. The ensemble does not cover; it converses. They trust the depth of the material, and from that trust, something new is born.
Jazz and De André may seem worlds apart, but they share a vital essence: improvisation. Not just as a musical gesture, but as a way of being. To improvise is to be open, to risk, to be present. And in that space of freedom and risk, truth can emerge—quietly, unexpectedly, beautifully.
Listening to Faber is not just an aesthetic experience. It is an invitation—to pause, to reflect, to remember that beauty can still be a tool of resistance.
In a world often distracted by noise, De André’s words and our notes try to restore attention to the essential: to listening, to nuance, to the humanity behind every story.
This album is not just about what De André wrote, it’s about what we continue to feel through him, it’s about walking with him, once more, through the invisible streets of poetry.
In that sense, Faber is not a destination, but a starting point. A way to keep the dialogue open. And if, somewhere among these arrangements, someone rediscovers a forgotten verse or feels something stir in the silence between two notes then the encounter has truly happened.