the bard of rizitika and the Cretan ballad
Listen, I never play a piece the same way twice. If I played it again straight after, it wouldn’t be the same. You decorate it one way one time, another way the next. You embroider it, you take it further, you take it far away. Music, my child, is miles. Don’t listen to the people who put dots on paper.
Do you believe in God?
I do, but I told you: I call Nature God. She has the power; she gives things their pulse. Everything has its pulse. The heart, the wind, the wave, the grass… Even stone has its pulse: stillness, silence. And sometimes life grows on stone. Haven’t you seen, on cliffs, on the rock, how tiny little trees grow? And where does love grow? Doesn’t it grow on cliffs?
Love?!
Love, the plant, dittany. That’s what we call it in Anogeia.
Is love hard?
Hard. All loves are hard.
How many times have you fallen in love in your life?
I fall in love every minute. If I see a beautiful flower, or a pretty little hare, I might fall in love with it!
If you weren’t a musician, what would you like to be?
I’d like to have goats and sheep and sit up in the mountains.
Do you ever play music to animals?
Of course! To the sheep, the birds, all the animals. And if you play beautifully and softly, they like you and don’t run away.