Ernesto’s drum

In a scene from the movie Pensavo fosse amore, invece era un calesse, Massimo Troisi asks: “Why are you all so honest with me? What have I ever done to you?”

A similar question was probably asked by the orchestra conductors who had the honor and burden of rehearsing under the great Toscanini, a man who, while God was handing out temperaments, had probably already quarreled with the entire line. His tirades against musicians were legendary; on one occasion he even called them “Murderers!” One day, in an especially grim mood, our friend Arturo said of them: “People who, when the score says to play with love, play like married men.” And another time, modest and empathetic as ever, he encouraged them with these affectionate words: “God tells me how the music should sound, but in between there’s you!” Compliments aside, Toscanini was one of the main promoters of the extraordinary success of Ravel’s Bolero, which he conducted in Paris in 1930. On that occasion he clashed with the composer, who considered the tempo too fast. Ravel, too, was a peculiar character: “The best thing I’ve ever done is the Bolero—too bad it isn’t music!” At the premiere, a lady in the audience is said to have shouted at Ravel: “Madman, madman!” To which the composer, entirely unperturbed, replied that perhaps the lady was the only one who had really understood the piece.

What was so strange about the Bolero? Above all, its sheer simplicity: seventeen minutes of music built on only two themes, repeated over an obsessive rhythm that hypnotizes the listener. Ravel plays by adding and removing instruments with each repetition, beginning in pianissimo, with the drum entering first and remaining throughout the piece, accompanied by the pizzicato of violas and cellos. A flute introduces the famous theme, which is then repeated by a clarinet. The instrumental crescendo is imposing and evocative, with the entry of brass, woodwinds, violins, and the tenor saxophone, a typical jazz instrument that Ravel loved so much. The relentless, ever-growing sound culminates in a liberating cry from the entire orchestra, in which the rhythm collapses and the listener’s heartbeat finally calms.

What impresses with every hearing is the teamwork of the individual instruments called into play, drops of water that become a waterfall, confirming a proverb from Burkina Faso which says: “If the ants agree, they can move an elephant.” This is essentially the story of the Sermig, born from the dream of Ernesto Olivero, a visionary and reckless young man who, like Ravel’s drum, opened the dance and has kept the beat alive until today. Thanks to that pulse, the Arsenal of Peace has gone far beyond the borders of Turin to embrace the entire world, gathering an immense army of men and women of different religions, cultures, and ethnicities, united by the desire to play and amplify that same theme. The only difference with the Bolero is the absence of the final cry, because the mission of the young is unstoppable; they are the only ones truly capable of inhabiting the future.

NP May 2025
Mauro Tabasso