The resilience imposed by social isolation finds a precious ally in music, which first took centre stage on Italian balconies and then in streaming concerts from every corner of the planet.
Music is one of the oldest forms of human art, if not the oldest. It is also a formidable antidote for resilience against wars, injustice and oppression, in times of crisis. We saw this last autumn in the street protests in Chile, Lebanon, Catalonia, in Hong Kong and Haiti. We observe it, more recently, as a liberating act against the social isolation that millions of people around the world are forced into in order to confront the spread of the new coronavirus. Voices and sounds spread and connect, virtually, to share the most intimate and profound feelings of an existence overturned in an instant and never experienced before. To draw closer, console one another, rebel, hope, or simply to survive.
When, at the end of October, one million demonstrators in Chile with thousands of guitars strike up "El derecho de vivir en Paz (The right to live in peace)" by Víctor Jara, a folk singer and political activist tortured and killed by the military dictatorship in 1973, the protest is against rising living costs and growing economic inequality. At the same time, dozens of Chilean musicians living abroad, each in a different country, produce a moving orchestral version, recorded at a distance, of Jara's anthem.
The collective experience is repeated in March in Italy, following the restrictions imposed by the spread of the pandemic. With the same dynamics as a flashmob, on the stroke of six in the evening, citizens and more or less improvised artists appear on balconies from the north to the south of the country, performing music and singing in unison as an act of resilience. In Milan, the capital of the region hardest hit by covid-19, on an ordinary midday immersed in a now timeless dimension, the nostalgic notes of "O mia bela madunina" ring out from a trumpet behind a grille. They belong to musician Raffaele Kohler, who for nearly an hour delights the entire neighbourhood.
The wave of performances from Italian balconies comes to an end after about a week of enthusiasm, when the bulletin of infections and deaths worsens to the point of prompting reflection on the gravity of the situation and on respect for the dead. When asked about this by the Huffington Post, Ennio Morricone confesses: "I don't compose and I don't listen to music, this is not the moment," adding that music for him, and not only for him, "has an absolute and very great value" and that "of course, a little lightness can help, there is no doubt about that, but in a situation like this I'm not about to start listening to it just to console myself for what is happening."
While many, like maestro Morricone but also Nick Cave, prefer to retreat into silence, there are others who simply cannot suppress their creative and emotional impulses. They cling to music out of necessity, for that secret alchemy that forms between instrument and musician, between voice and singer, an invisible line that only the performer recognises. Like doctor Christian Mongiardi from the intensive care unit of the hospital in Varese who, on a break in his uniform and mask, plays "Don't stop me now" by Queen on the piano. Or eighteen-year-old Jacopo Mastrangelo, a student about to sit his final school exams and an avid electric guitar player, who from the terrace of his Rome home overlooking Piazza Navona — now more deserted than ever — plays an excerpt from the soundtrack of the film "C'era una volta in America", composed by Morricone himself in 1984. "I discovered that an empty square is more frightening than a full one," the young man says before repeating the experience with a piece by Pino Daniele.
The artistic community, particularly hard hit by the global lockdown, reinvents itself through digital means. With festivals, tours, concerts and DJ sets all suspended, artists are now performing live in streaming from their own homes, living rooms or bedrooms. For brief intervals or full live shows, out of solidarity or for enjoyment. One of the first big names to dedicate a song to doctors and nurses on the front line in Italy, but also in Ireland on St Patrick's Day, is Bono. The U2 singer films himself on his smartphone as he plays (or plays off-key?) the unreleased "Let your love be known" on the piano, posting it to his Instagram.
Another special dedication, also on Instagram, comes from singer and activist Joan Baez, who picks up her guitar and launches into, in excellent Italian, "Un mondo d'amore" by Gianni Morandi. Sting is not to be left out, playing "The empty chair" in a video message shared on Facebook. "This song," explains the former Police frontman, "is about the loved ones we miss, about those who cannot come home and leave an empty chair at their table as a reminder." Using the hashtag #TogetherAtHome, Chris Martin of Coldplay treats his fans to thirty minutes of hits including "Trouble", "A sky full of stars" and "When I ruled the world".
The most moving surprise comes from Michael Stipe of R.E.M. with an unreleased track, written together with Aaron Dessner of The National, which goes: "No time for crazy, No time for arguments, No time for love like now." Bob Dylan leaves everyone speechless when, after a long silence, he unexpectedly releases a new seventeen-minute track on Twitter entitled "Murder most foul". The longest piece he has ever released, his first new material in eight years.
Legendary folk-rocker Neil Young posts a series of acoustic sessions on his website, complete with videos filmed by his wife and actress Daryl Hannah, which show him at his Colorado ranch performing songs selected from across his entire discography, including several rarities. Producer Diplo may well have watched them too, given that in one of his improvised home DJ sets he drops a danceable version of "Hey hey, my my" with Rhye on vocals.
Meanwhile Third man records, Jack White's label, launches a series of live shows on YouTube called Public access, inaugurated by Luke Schneider. The musician is filmed playing the ambient tracks from his new album with vintage instrumentation, in particular a 1967 pedal steel. Sufjan Stevens releases his latest album ahead of schedule via a streaming premiere on YouTube, while Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie posts daily video contributions from home, playing songs on request with virtual guests.
English singer-songwriter James Blake offers an hour-long live session, alternating his own tracks with covers of Joni Mitchell, Frank Ocean, Radiohead and Bill Withers. Soul singer Erykah Badu experiments with a paid interactive show, Apocalypse One, in which participants pay a dollar to watch her perform and send her requests in real time through Instagram's poll feature. Questlove of The Roots takes on a six-hour set, four of which are entirely dedicated to Stevie Wonder's repertoire — classics and rarities alike. Swedish duo Peter Bjorn and John go even further and launch a 36-hour mini festival on Twitch from their Stockholm studio.
Every day, charitable initiatives grow in support of doctors, hospitals and all those fighting against coronavirus. The iHeart Living Room Concert for America, hosted by Elton John via livestream, features several artists performing from their own living rooms. Among them, Billie Eilish in an acoustic version of "Bad guy" with her brother Finneas, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day performing "Boulevard of broken dreams", Dave Grohl delivering the verses of "My hero" and Alicia Keys in a moving musical prayer for piano and voice.