pittima

 pittima is not just any song on Crêuza de mä, the album that Fabrizio De André recorded in Genoese. It sounds like a lament that drags on between the Middle Ages and the present, as if time had stopped in the ports of Genoa, where words blend into a stew of ancient cultures. It’s not just the lyrics that captivate, but that air of a seafaring ballad that De André and Mauro Pagani achieved with instruments that seem plucked from a medieval Milan market: lute, accordion, and percussion that strike like waves. De André’s voice, raspy and deep, twists around the syllables of the dialect, making every word sound like a story whispered to someone who doesn’t want to forget.

The song was born in 1984, when De André had already spent decades exploring the voices of those no one listened to. Crêuza de mä was his first album entirely in Genoese, a risk that paid off handsomely—not just for its musicality, but because the language became a character in its own right. Dischi Ricordi released it without great commercial expectations, yet the public and critics received it as a revelation. At 3:44 long, Â pittima doesn’t aim to impress with virtuosity; instead, it drags you into a world where words carry the weight of ancient coins and the rhythm makes you walk through alleys where the echoes of merchants from centuries past still resonate.