Albums can be many things, personal confessions, expressions of dissatisfaction, soundtracks to everything from a party to a doomed generation; for any situation there is a release to fit the occasion. To Franc Cinelli it can be a travel journal, a diary of the places the last tour took him, the people he met, a personal account of one mans experiences on the road and the landscapes that he passed through.
Musically it is a wonderful blend of folk, acoustic blues, subdued rock and roll vibes, a sublime mix of all that is familiar but crafted together into new shapes and presented with a masterful touch. But the music, whilst not in anyway diminishing it’s quality, often plays second fiddle to both the imagery and the mood.
We stand with him at The Straits of Messina, follow him into the unknown with just the hypnotic hum of the vehicles engine for company, away from the city, through mountains and along shorelines, through wistful reflective moods and buoyant celebrations, from deep thoughts to joyful abandon. Never has an album made me want to throw a guitar into the back of the car and head out into the unknown this much.