Legs, Boots… and Respect for the Environment

“Thirty years ago I got a phone call. They knew I was a musician who loves to experiment. But I play the cello—not exactly a flute. They asked if I felt like carrying it on my back for a couple of hours, and then playing in a breathtaking spot. I said yes, also because I was used to practicing in a little mountain hut. In truth, in a flash, I saw taking shape what I had always dreamed of. It was the first season of I Suoni, and sometimes barely 50 people showed up. But it worked. Since then, with my cello and in the company of the people of Trentino, I’ve climbed everywhere.”

These are the words of artistic director Mario Brunello.

There was a time when music echoed at high altitudes, as well as in forests and deserts. It was made by shepherds, by tribes gathering after a hunt. Then, over time, we got used to listening to it in other places.

In open-air arenas, in churches, in the grand theaters born of the Enlightenment. In dance halls where working men and women carved out a moment of joy amid the folds of daily life.

Later, music made its way into stadiums, into indoor arenas. It became a collective ritual, a celebration. Eventually, an event sold at a high price, to be booked well—very well—in advance.

I Suoni delle Dolomiti remain something else entirely, faithful to themselves in both time and space. Audience and musicians alike must climb to high altitude on their own legs, with their feet in hiking boots.

 

Climbing a trail to attend an acoustic concert—“legs on your shoulders” and boots on your feet—is a way to express, in a concrete way, one’s respect for the environment. And to leave the natural arena exactly as you found it when you arrived.