English is not the language I’m most fluent in. There are others I find easier to speak. Many others, actually.
I often find it difficult to express myself through the words that I should be able to say. So, I resort to other forms of appreciation. Over the years, I’ve found multiple other languages, love languages, that provide more comfort than any spoken message might.
However, in everything that I attempt to display my crooked ways of loving the people around me, it’s music, in particular, that I pay the most attention to. I live for the small texts from my dad with links to songs that “remind him of me,” and more often than not, they tend to become my favorites. The playlists I’ve curated with the memory of those around me—there are too many to keep track of at this point—hold great significance purely because it’s the medium of expression I surround myself with the most.
My dad’s playlist majorly contains the work of one of our favorite artists: Ludovico Einaudi, a modern Italian composer. I became a fan of his pieces after “Experience,” a song that was unfortunately popularized on TikTok, was the first song my dad ever sent me. So, when I heard of Einaudi releasing his newest album, The Summer Portraits, I almost couldn’t wait two months to listen to his latest collection.
The newest portfolio of songs is something he’s spent the last few months promoting on all social media platforms I follow him on. In the weeks leading up to its unveiling, his fans have gotten to hear the background of the album in its entirety, revealing just how intimate this certain repertoire is.
“I started to think of my summers,” Einaudi said, “the time when my life was deeply connected with all my senses, where the days felt like months and the months felt like years, and I was free morning to night. Every day was a new discovery of life, with nature being a fundamental part of it. We were one with nature. I thought that everyone had their own version of the summer portraits.”
With the knowledge of how crucial the idea of the outdoors was to the creation of this album, I knew I couldn’t just listen to this while holed up in my house. I took the drive to the airport viewing area, and even though it was dreary and cold, I don’t think my experience of The Summer Portraits could’ve gotten any better.
Having the track “Rose Bay” at the beginning of this collection creates the perfect initial atmosphere that puts me in the right headspace to listen to the rest of the album. The soft, string-heavy theme held me in a trance-like state that encapsulated the meaning of this work as a whole—producing a nostalgic sensation that made me close my eyes and relive an anthology of my summers growing up. Similar to the scene in Barbie where the flashback of womanhood made many people emotional at the end of the film, I found myself listening to Ruth Handler’s wisdom and what this song seemed to say: “Take my hand, close your eyes, and now, feel.”
With a flawless transition into the next track, “Punta Bianca” unfolds with the central theme of his piano oscillating between the two base notes. Moment by moment, a new layer, a new instrument is incorporated until the melody swells with the staccato breaths of a choir. The symphony of voices added an ethereal quality to the mix. This was a pleasant surprise as Einaudi rarely supplements his work with an ensemble of soloists. However, the singers bring a subtle property that I almost couldn’t discern from any other instruments he’s used; they didn’t particularly stand out in an obvious way but added to the song in a delicate way that made it feel complete.
It was the next track, “Sequence,” that brought the first expressive transformation to the album. I was immediately placed into the heart of the piece, and the harmonic aspect of the song and more prominent base chords set it apart from the previous two. Einaudi is the master of repetition, often using piano lines and background strings as a constant, but “Sequence” invites a prominent layer of vibrato-heavy (and emotion-inducing) violin melodies. Also, as the title implies, it’s the first song of the album to have multiple “storylines:” The harmonious fluctuation of the dynamics and chord progressions give the piece a less linear feel with the dominant opening, lethargic climax, and round conclusion.
The gradual ending paved the way for the introduction of “Pathos.” This track was released a couple of months ago and has resided on my “favorites” playlist ever since. Many people have pointed out the similarities between this song and “Experience,” which debuted in his 2013 album, In A Time Lapse. Similar to its predecessor, “Pathos” opens without a hurry and eventually surges to a poignant peak in an intense feeling of being free, while “Experience” composes a more somber atmosphere. Personally, this song takes me on a visual journey, as well. I’m taken back to my mornings on Lake Medora, where I’m kayaking to my destination in the center; the sun comes over the horizon, glistening onto the water just as the metallic shimmering of the violins marks the peak of the song. “Pathos” has become the soundtrack to those memories.
Another visual track is “To Be Sun,” which reminded me of how important the titles of Einaudi’s songs are for initiating an optical representation of the music. Many of his songs open extremely slowly, and this one in particular was difficult for me to get into at first. But, when the rising arpeggios of the solo piano began to complement the pulsing strings that crept in, the tempo shifted along with my view toward this song; I enjoyed it. The deliberate opening and closing of this piece with the passionate center supported my visual image of the sun through the motions of the day, hence the track’s title.
Einaudi explained the backstory behind the next song, “Jay,” was inspired by a vibrant bird that would visit his mother in the countryside. The piece’s short length and simplistic melody, consisting only of a piano, signify the pure beauty of his time birdwatching. This is just another example of how important knowing the history behind a piece of music is, in this case, presenting Einaudi’s originality and genius for creating something so beautiful out of something so fleeting.
With this album in particular, I’ve noticed that the title of the tracks plays a crucial role in the individual understanding of what it’s attempting to convey. So, when “Oil on Wood” was presented, I went in with a naive outlook, expecting something unsurpassable. Einaudi’s music has shown me time and time again that to find something truly wonderful in his work, I have to anticipate nothing in order to feel everything. My artless presumptions let me down with this piece, but maybe I just need to give it another listen.
As the album came to a close, the last three tracks, “Episode One,” “Maria Callas,” and “Santiago,” provided something that I was unaware the album needed. These songs strayed from Einaudi’s routine piano subject and violin counterparts by having a cello-heavy theme. The lower baritone to close the album perfectly contrasted with the warmer commencement.
In particular, it was “Maria Callas” that hit something within me that I wasn’t entirely expecting from this album. It was the raw cello accompaniment that dominated this emotionally dragging song. Declaring itself as a tribute to Einaudi’s mother, who often played the music of American-Green soprano, Maria Callas—whose dedication is the track’s namesake—it was clear why it moved me as much as it did. Doing my research after listening to the album proved I was on target for feeling so grief-stricken. Similar to a technique used in “Santiago,” the sweeping runs from note to note in the melody refrain were a pivotal aspect in both songs that tore me to pieces. I find it fascinating how just two instruments can pull me into a place of such emotion, and it was a piece I desperately wish I could hear again for the very first time.
Half of the beauty in The Summer Portraits isn’t even in the music; it’s the backstory behind it. I tend to gravitate towards classical arrangements because it leaves space for me to compose my own interpretation of the song. Both lyrical and classical styles, as with any form of art, are intended purely for the artist, but symphonic material doesn’t need words to convey meaning. Classical music is entirely open to the listener to create their own story for the song. Einaudi is the epitome of a poetic genius simply because words aren’t required for him to say what he needs to say in his art. He turns music from a solely aural experience into something I can feel in the pit of my soul.
He obtains a special ability to connect with people around the globe—as he did with my dad and me—no matter the language they speak or the things they believe in, and this album showcases that power in an unparalleled manner by highlighting the bond between himself and the things that guide his passion.
“[Summer is] a beautiful season connected with the best moments of our lives. So, I started to make my own paintings with music. This album is dedicated to all our endless summer memories. All our beautiful moments.” ~ Ludovico Einaudi
