Ne Favate by Trelilu: A Rustic Gem from 1993 That Still Kicks
Let’s get one thing straight—Trelilu’s Ne Favate isn’t your typical shiny, overproduced album. Released in 1993 under the radar (literally, it’s “Not On Label”), this Italian treasure dives deep into Europe’s folk roots with a splash of world and country vibes. It’s raw, real, and kinda feels like you stumbled into a village festival where everyone knows each other but doesn’t mind if you pull up a chair.
The tracklist is a quirky mix of repeats and variations, which might make you think they ran out of ideas—but nah, it’s more like they’re letting you sit with the tunes longer. Tracks like Fa Caud and La Culumbaia stick to your brain like melted cheese on bread. You can’t shake ‘em off even if you tried.
Take Fa Caud, for example. The title sounds like something you’d mumble while warming your hands over a fire, right? And that’s exactly what this song feels like—a cozy hug for your ears. With its simple acoustic strumming and earthy vocals, it’s got this hypnotic rhythm that makes you wanna grab a glass of red wine and stare out at some misty hills. I swear, every time I hear it, I’m transported to an imaginary cabin somewhere in Italy, where life moves slower and nobody cares about Wi-Fi signals.
Then there’s La Culumbaia. This one’s sneaky—it shows up twice on the album, so clearly Trelilu wanted us to pay attention. There’s something magical about how the melody dances around, almost teasing you. Is it happy? Sad? Both? Dunno, but it’s beautiful. It reminds me of those old black-and-white photos people keep framed on their walls—not because they’re perfect, but because they tell a story without saying a word.
Now, let’s talk quirks. Why does Ne Favate repeat songs like we’re stuck in a musical Groundhog Day? Maybe it’s intentional, maybe it’s just lazy brilliance. Either way, it works. By the third listen, you start noticing little differences in tone or tempo, as if the band decided to jam out again just for kicks. It’s messy, sure, but also kinda endearing.
Here’s the kicker though—this album wasn’t made to impress critics or climb charts. It was born out of love for tradition, storytelling, and good ol’ foot-stomping fun. Listening to it feels like eavesdropping on a private moment between friends who’ve known each other forever.
So yeah, Ne Favate may not be polished or trendy, but it’s got soul—and sometimes, that’s all you need. If anything, it proves that music doesn’t have to try too hard to leave a mark. Now go pour yourself a drink, press play, and let Trelilu take you back to a time when things were simpler…or at least sounded like they were.
Oh, and hey—if anyone asks why you’re humming random Italian folk tunes, just blame it on the Culumbaia effect.
