When we meet to talk about his latest album, the meeting is naturally set at Muratello, at Bar de la guitare, which his parents opened in 1961 and is now run by the younger generation of the family. “We had a small grocery corner for a year or two. But it was mainly the village bar, almost a social work, with this idea of sharing that my parents, my grandparents had. They didn’t live just for themselves, and they transmitted that to me,” Natali Valli says, a hint of emotion in his voice.
“In’a me strada” was released in the heart of winter. A sixth solo album that the artist from Porto-Vecchio, guided by Michel Leonardi, wanted to do with duets “with young singers who are less known, except Guy” (Canarelli, with whom he sang in Surghjenti, editor’s note), “but Guy, it just came naturally. Among the younger singers, there’s Stéphanie Guerrini, Mathias Deiana, Michel Solinas, Gianluca Cucciari, Jean Crispi, Denis Buffignani…”
Music as a driving force
His logic? “To highlight them. That’s what they did with me when I was young. I played with big names, and they did everything to showcase me. I’ve always done that with Surghjenti too. I prefer to put others forward rather than myself.”
An attitude that has followed him for a long time. Natali Valli recalls the era of cabarets, of Boucanier, where he traveled the roads of the region with Antoine Lastrajoli to play in various villages, “and sometimes even two villages in the same day. These small concerts are incredible memories, better than a big venue. People are more receptive when they are fewer, we are closer to them, we see their reactions. I’ve always liked to be close to the audience.”
When he tells stories in a slightly disjointed conversation, the talkative singer and guitarist who founded Surghjenti at the beginning of the 1980s digresses willingly, recalls musician friends, mentions a Parisian anecdote, mentions having misbehaved as an adolescent with his neighbor, Noël Costantini. And like a refrain, music reappears around the sentences and sets the tone of the conversation.
From Quilapayun to Tony Toga through Deep Purple
Quilapayun, Deep Purple, or Queen are mentioned alongside Italian music, Antoine Ciosi, the Vincenti brothers, Rudo Cardi, Tony Toga, “great artists and brave people, which doesn’t hurt,” Zi Francescu Valli, “who played the mandolin and whom I loved listening to. He told my father to make me play. When there was the San Ghjaseppu, I would open the window in the evening to listen to the musicians playing nearby on the square. But in reality, I started playing the guitar very late, at 17 or 18 years old, and I always played by ear. I had the gift, but I had to work on it, and I did. Purely by instinct. I was rather lazy.”
Singing? “It wasn’t what attracted me the most, and I never considered myself a singer. But I had things to say and then Toga, the Vincenti, Antoine Ciosi encouraged me to sing and write, so…”
17 songs performed as duets
So, he wrote – a lot – for himself and for others, became a songwriter. A path he continued for “In’a me strada,” which features no less than 17 tracks, all in Corsican, influenced by the artists who have accompanied him for almost his entire life, “Brel, Brassens, Moustaki, Barbara, and not just them, obviously… Great lyricists in French, Corsican, English, Italian, Spanish…”
This time, however, the album, enhanced by the arranging and sound engineering talents of Dumè Tomasi and Philippe Laurent, is somewhat special. Those who briefly look at the album’s booklet will learn this with a quick glance. “In’a me strada” will be “the last (album) in terms of writing, composing, singing.” And as a musician? “I will sometimes be present. That’s where I am starting to repeat myself less.”
Luckily for those who love southern speech and straightforward lyrics, “In’a me strada” will probably resonate for a long time.
