Krano Lentius Profundius Suavius

No rock 'n' roll record has felt this mysterious and free-spirited in years. R.I.P. channels Jorge Ben's late-night, alcohol-soaked vibes (heard on 1970's Fôrça Bruta) and the rambling country-blues of Bob Dylan's Nashville Skyline. - NPR

And just like that he did it again, vanished. At this point Krano is an expert in the art of disappearing, after the dust settles he retreats, fades away into the hills behind Valdobbiadene and shuts down communication. It took four years to rescue from the vaults ‘Requiescat In Plavem’, Krano’s 2016 country-psychedelic masterpiece, a Venetian songbook for the Piave river shrouded in mystery and wonder that turned heads across the music circuits. Seven years later he’s back with ‘Lentius Profundius Suavius’ an incredible collection of songs about loss, solitude, death, darkness (Profundius) and sweetness, devotion and friendship (Suavius). Absolutely aching with soul, these ten songs channel rollicking twang, cosmic electric americana, honky-tonk mystics, noir gothic and fuzzed out spiritual rock’n’roll. As some would say, only the good sh*t, a masterclass in songcraft and true loner folk.

Who knows how, but ‘Lentius Profundius Suavius’ was vaguely inspired by the work of Italian peace activist Alexander Langer, a forgotten hero that relentlessly worked on eliminating ethnic boundaries and fostered ‘togetherness’ and true values of solidarity and ecological renaissance. “Slower rather than faster, deeper rather than higher and gently rather than hard” was Langer’s motto and fittingly is the reason behind the album’s title.

Krano’s music runs free, transcends barriers, a distillation of broken dreams tinted in black and white, where having the blues is not just a feeling but something you can’t shake, a wayfaring outsider on a journey side by side with players like Bill Fay, Robbie Basho, Skip Spence, Dave Bixby, inevitably bound to burn in eternity.

“Damn if there isn’t some mystical appeal at work in these songs.” - Aquarium Drunkard