Dall'Italia Con Amore: A Folk-Fueled Love Letter to Napoli
If you’ve ever dreamed of strolling through sun-drenched Italian piazzas with a mandolin serenade in the background, Dall'Italia Con Amore might just be your ticket. This album, brought to life by Antonio Furnari, Cesare Schiavi, Mario Caruso, and Antonio Crocicchia, is like sipping espresso at dawn—rich, warm, and leaving you wanting more. It’s folk music, sure, but not the kind that makes you think of campfires and acoustic guitars. No, this is Canzone Napoletana—a style dripping with nostalgia, heartbreak, and passion so raw it feels like stepping into an old black-and-white movie.
The lineup here is stacked. You’ve got accordion wizards Orlando Loria and Vittorio Petricca adding layers of soulful flair, while Massimo Mariani and Paolo Pilliccioni strum their guitars like they’re coaxing secrets out of wood. And then there are the voices—oh, those voices! Four vocalists who sound like they were born under Vesuvius itself, each note soaked in emotion. The whole thing is tied together by conductor M° Vittorio Petricca, who ensures everything flows smoother than limoncello on a summer evening.
Now, let’s talk tracks because no one wants to read about every single song (we’re not writing a thesis here). Two songs stuck with me like marinara sauce on a white shirt: “Torna A Surriento” and “Funiculì Funiculà.”
“Torna A Surriento,” man… it’s the kind of tune that grabs you by the collar and whispers sweet nothings in Neapolitan. It’s romantic yet bittersweet, like remembering a love affair that ended too soon. The vocals? Pure magic. Every time Antonio Crocicchia hits those high notes, I swear my cat stops mid-meow to listen. There’s something about the way the melody swells—it’s like watching waves crash against cliffs near Sorrento. You can almost smell the saltwater and feel the Mediterranean breeze.
And then there’s “Funiculì Funiculà.” If you’ve never heard this classic before, buckle up, because it’s impossible not to hum along after the first listen. It starts off jaunty, like someone skipping stones across a lake, then builds into this joyous anthem celebrating Mount Vesuvius. Yeah, you read that right—Vesuvius gets its own theme song, and honestly? It deserves it. The harmonies between the four singers are razor-sharp, and when the accordions kick in, forget about it. Your feet will start tapping whether you want them to or not.
What really stands out about this album is how unpretentious it feels. These guys aren’t trying to reinvent the wheel—they’re paying homage to timeless traditions. They don’t need flashy production tricks or autotune; all they need is talent, which they have in spades. Listening to this record feels like sitting at a family dinner where everyone bursts into song between courses. It’s messy, heartfelt, and utterly authentic.
Here’s the kicker, though. As much as I adore this album, part of me wonders if younger listeners raised on TikTok beats will get it. Will they appreciate the drama of “Core ’ngrato” or the sweeping romance of “O’ Sole Mio”? Or will they scroll past, looking for something faster, louder, shinier? Maybe that’s okay. Maybe albums like Dall'Italia Con Amore aren’t meant for everyone—they’re treasures for those willing to slow down and savor them.
So go ahead, pour yourself some vino rosso, dim the lights, and hit play. Just don’t blame me if you suddenly develop an urge to book a flight to Naples—or start belting out “Funiculì Funiculà” in the shower. Trust me, it happens.
