WHAT IF WE COULD ALSO TAKE THIS “DOLCE VITA” LITERALLY?
Over the past four years, the progress of the Large Ensemble has been remarkable. As has that of Louis Matute. Each album is an opportunity for the Swiss artist to broaden his focus and give meaning to sound. “Dolce Vita” is a poetic, muted, and slightly ironic indignation. It is the portrait of a conscious young man in search of his roots, uncomfortable with the state of the world today. It means tracing back to his father's exile from Honduras by the regime ("Tegucigalpa 72"), to the revolt of Colombian peasants in 1928 ("Santa Marta"), finding echoes in a book by Italo Calvino or a painting by Frida Kahlo ("Gringolandia"). It means slamming the door and rediscovering oneself in Brazil, then returning to challenge oneself with his writing soulmate, the excellent Gabi Hartmann ("Lencois de Chuva"). It means leaving open the doors of a garden that is no longer so secret.
Leaving this album, with a wandering mind, even completely elsewhere, one desires only one thing: to taste again this nameless trance, with warm colors, these moments with which the ear and heart identify. There are so many of these shots of pure beauty, these more or less intense surges, which make us say that Louis Matute is more than a musician: an author and a vision, the definition of a true artist. A touching and curious personality whose style is recognizable from the first notes, "modern" almost against his will. But why does Louis Matute's music resonate so much? Perhaps because it is closely linked to his personal history and that of his family. "It's real therapy. The more I learn about my father's and grandfather's Honduras, the more I feel it makes my music shine differently."
For all these reasons, the advent of Louis Matute and his Large Ensemble is one of the best things that could have happened to European jazz: opening doors and windows, traveling, telling stories, seeing humanity and resilience as a remedy. Turning it into truly good music that speaks to the intimate and touches the universal. Remember: one of the most poetic pieces from Louis's last album was called "Vue Soleil." What if we could also take this “Dolce Vita” literally?