LERO LERO - Lero Lero

The debut album by Sicilian collective Lero Lero worms its way into that fracture separating stereotype from authentic cultural tradition, but above all into that moment of sublimation of folk music meant to offer audiences a set of prototypes as familiar as they are functional to a generation of artists who have focused more on socio-political significance than on the rural, peasant substratum underlying it all.

Fabio Rizzo (guitar), Donato Di Trapani (keyboards) and Alessio Bondì (lead vocals) have spent the last four years digging through the musical history of their homeland, sifting through the Sicilian Sound Archive of the 20th century, as well as dusting off the typical polyphonic chant of sacred liturgies. But what makes the Lero Lero operation unique is having contaminated it all with harsh synthesizer textures, cutting riffs and vocals as raw as they are authentic and visceral.

The band's choice to put the legendary crocodile from Palermo's Vucciria market on the cover is further confirmation of their intent to draw on a narrative in which past and present merge into a single language. Electronics, rock and microtonal music (yes, the kind made famous by the brilliant Angine De Poitrine) are the main sources of contamination on an album that reworks ancient rural chants and archaic sounds, alternating pagan sacredness (the desperate prayer of a boy who has lost his mother, "Com 'haiu A Fari") with a whirling synth, tambourine and modulated-voice groove set over poignant Sicilian harmonies ("Franculina").

The attention to sources and the contemporary approach prove decidedly brilliant: while fully respecting Sicilian oral tradition, Lero Lero decode music and words with innovative, modern sounds. But what's astonishing is the captivating final result, which remains enchanting even without knowing its premises. A track like "Bedda Ca Cantari Mi Sintisti" reworks the sound of the jaw harp with harsh, ritual textures that seduce through their hypnotic pace and gorgeous sonic synthesis.

The tension rises considerably with "Salinai": Alessio Bondì's voice almost shrieks as it evokes the cries of the salt gatherers, a mix of joy and despair that recounts the hard reality of these workers; the musical setting is delicate and full of pathos, the same pathos that animates the more joyous fabric of the tale of love and betrayal in "Cuori Ri Canna".

Filtered voices and cadenced sounds steeped in pagan sacredness form the backdrop to the desert-blues of "Monrealesi", a track underscored by Arabic sonorities, but here too tradition is just a pretext for beguiling sonic daring, like the pulsing bass sound that keeps the tension high on "Aieri Ci Passava", a track that further dismantles any folkloristic ambition in Lero Lero's brilliant project.

There are still many months to go before the year-end reckoning, but I doubt it will be easy to dislodge this Palermo trio's album from the top of the year's most innovative records. A solid, authentic portrait of a great tradition, the Sicilian one, which Lero Lero revive with vocal exuberance ("Ova Nichi") and poignant folk poetry ("Ninna Nanna – U Viersu"), delivering an unexpected masterpiece to their audience.

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11/06/2026