Not only Luigi Turra belongs to the restricted circle of Italian artists deserving my respect, he’s also one of the rare persons who can pronounce the word “Zen” without eliciting the urge of throwing up in yours truly. Not a negligible quality, in the age of superficial quotes from books that aren’t authentically understood, in turn becoming cheap Facebook posts. Furthermore, omniscient hominids in search of attention conveniently forget that Zen is an inborn condition; it is not readable or teachable. Basically, it’s a classic case of “some folks got it, some folks don’t”.Let’s not digress, though. Fukinsei comprises nine tracks conveying a sense of naked completeness. Turra’s heterogeneous creations revolve around an unambiguous compositional axis; sounds, noises, voices from unknown places are masterfully collected and systematized. Each piece thrives on a commendable balance between the transitoriness of true silence (another endangered species in the current history of humanity) and the disguised educational features of most everything that is not.The passage of time is still acknowledged in these environments, justified by implicit rules that defy the asinine “explanations” typical of Western philostophers. Turra appears to be in total control of the unfolding events, showing a profound knowledge of the harmonic richness of emissions that uneducated people would describe as mere disturbances. This music treats a shakuhachi, a humming quietness, amplified subsonics and objects bouncing on the strings of a guitar exactly in the same way.The reason behind the continuing incomprehension of life’s essentials resides in the inability of listening, an act that should be deprived of the impulse of superimposing ourselves upon what is happening, or being told by someone else. Not everybody stops in muteness to mentally absorb a bell tower’s wavering reverberations perceived at remote distance; many unfortunates consider the barking of a dog, or blackbirds singing at sunrise, as disruptions of a so-called tranquillity. Turra attempts to develop a few seeds of authentic consciousness via brief sightings retaining a necessary degree of physicality. They need to be stored in that area of memory that refuses the narcissistic exposure of a nescience dressed in wisdom clothes.
(Massimo Ricci – Touching Extremes)