On Questioni Di Pensiero, Threegonos – Modern Jazz Unity stretch modern jazz into a widescreen atlas. The sextet—anchored by founder/bassist Toni Armetta—threads serpentine melodies, supple grooves, and global vocabularies (from bulería pulses to Afro/Middle Eastern inflections) into pieces that feel both rigorously composed and gloriously open. Accordion sighs against synth shimmer, tabla converses with drum kit, and sax lines tilt from lyricism to fire. It’s smart, soulful, and cinematic—jazz that rewards close listening and invites movement.
We sat down with Threegonos (led by Armetta) to talk about the new record, the long road that shaped it, and the collective imagination behind their boundary-pushing sound.
Interview with Threegonos
The first lineup of Threegonos, formed in the mid-90s, was a power trio with an almost jazz-rock character. Together with Ludo Piccinini, an eclectic and versatile guitarist with extraordinary technical and musical skills, and drummer Lorenzo Gentile, also a sensitive and virtuosic musician, we performed my compositions built on a strong and present rhythmic foundation — always based on broad, singable melodies and wide-open harmonies, with great attention to dynamics and interplay.
In the following years, we took part in several festivals and concerts, sometimes joined by guests such as vibraphonist Giovanni Lo Cascio, pianist Riccardo Ballerini, and others. These collaborations allowed us to experiment with expanding the group’s sonic textures — something we often felt the need for.
Over time, there were several interruptions to our activity, due both to personal and scheduling issues and to the fact that with groups like this — not fitting the idea that many organizers (often not particularly competent or up-to-date) have of jazz and modern music in general — it is very difficult, especially in Italy, to find proper venues to present such projects. Unless you are a “household name” or part of that small circle of personalities favored by certain organizers, it becomes hard to propose original music in contexts beyond clubs or the occasional theater. And this is not only a matter of quality or skill, but almost always of friendships, connections, and public relations.
As for our musical journey, it evolved over time with compositions that became more elaborate both in writing and in sound. This transformation gradually turned Threegonos into a sextet. The addition of percussion and Umberto Vitiello’s voice, Edoardo Petretti on keyboards and accordion, the virtuoso lyricism of saxophonist Peppe Russo and the rhythmic eclecticism of drummer Danilo Ombres, allow me to be playful with my writing making it possible to pursue an almost limitless compositional path.
This is why our repertoire includes both instrumental and vocal pieces that, while drawing elements and colors from different genres, are shaped by that freedom of expression that only jazz can truly provide.
Of the original trio, only my firend Ludo Piccinini and I remain, since it would be difficult for me to collaborate with guitarists who lack the stylistic traits that make him stand out — a blend of powerful yet refined virtuosity, never self-serving, enriched with rock-tinged sonorities. Back then, we also recorded some tracks for an album that was never released. Three of these (“Il Viaggiatore,” “Threegonos,” and “Nessun Messaggio in Questa Bottiglia”) were later remastered and included in the CD Return to 80th Street as a tribute to our origins.
Both albums stem from the same concepts that fuel the engine of Threegonos: rhythmic and sonic spaces forming the foundation on which melodic-harmonic ideas are built — always well-defined yet open — with great attention to sonic textures, making full use of all the possibilities a sextet of this kind can offer.
The first CD, “Return to 80th Street”, as the title itself suggests, is a tribute to a specific period — the 1980s — which represent the peak of a temporal journey during which many things happened, both in music and beyond.
Musically speaking, from the early 1970s important figures, first and foremost Miles Davis, began to change the course of so-called “traditional jazz,” introducing concepts and sounds closer to other musical styles: the ensembles became “more electric” (electric bass, Fender piano, more saturated guitars, etc.).
The compositions are harmonically broader and more modal, with structures that are sometimes more improvisational, less schematic, and rhythms often lean toward rock-driven patterns twhich greatly influenced the way different soloists played. Jazz, though still present, began to expand with more complex sonorities and varied stylistic moods, giving rise to what would later be defined as “Fusion.”
From the early 1980s up to the present, the music industry has grown denser with an ever-wider range of styles, some perhaps of questionable taste, but others, born in those years, are without doubt among the most important bands that still today serve as a significant and relevant reference point for all musicians.
I believe it is important to know and understand the work of M. Davis, resumed in 1981 after the forced break at the end of the 1970s, as well as that of Weather Report or musicians such as C. Corea, H. Hancock, John McLaughlin, J. Zawinul, and later P. Metheny, Yellowjackets, and even Frank Zappa etc. figures who have had a strong and positive influence on the music we listen to today, through both their compositions and the sound of their bands.
“Questioni di pensiero” signifies what, in my (our) view, is the meaning of contemporary jazz. Many people, listeners, enthusiasts, and often even musicians themselves — are still convinced that “jazz” means playing pieces based on harmonic-melodic and rhythmic structures with certain performance and sound characteristics, serving almost as a “backdrop” to the musicians’ improvisations. The logic of the standard, sometimes oppressive and restrictive, often shapes the structures of the pieces, making them — along with themes and harmonies — a mere framework, lacking particular sparks of creativity, on which to display one’s improvisational skill.
Of course, all this is important, and must be studied and understood (just think of the wonderful solos of C. Parker, D. Gillespie, or other musicians from the bebop era), because it represents the principle, the very foundations of the language. But then, as I mentioned earlier, starting with figures such as M. Davis, J. Coltrane, C. Mingus, and others who followed, more complex and multifaceted compositional and structural approaches have been embraced, blending the freedom offered by jazz with concepts drawn from ethnic, folk, rock, and rap music — influences that have also shaped the improvisational mood of musicians.
The fundamental thing is the respect and mutual knowledge that unites almost all of us. Personally, I have known each of them since the early days of their musical careers — in fact, some were even my students in harmony, improvisation practice, theory, and solfège. Each one brings their skills and sensitivity into well-defined and arranged song structures, which nonetheless leave ample room for the musician’s improvisational sensibility, without the hyper-narcissism that often (and improperly) characterizes the personality of many musicians. Everyone does what they must, putting forth their own individuality and experience to the best of their ability, with heart and attentiveness.
During our “sweaty” and demanding rehearsals, or even during concerts, there is constant laughter, joking, and teasing — and we move forward. We know we are presenting something that significantly differs from most of what circulates in the Italian “jazz scene”: certainly nothing revolutionary or “never heard before,” but for us, something far more fulfilling and representative than other directions.
I believe that the most important thing for any band is the quality of the compositions and arrangements. Even musicians with stellar technical skills, if not supported by solid and well-thought-out music, risk sounding more like jugglers or acrobats — mere performers with dazzling technique but obvious, sterile, and ultimately boring musicality.
Musicians of every era, even the greatest, are often remembered in association with the bands they were part of or founded, creating an indelible parallel between the quality of the music and their instrumental skills, which were sometimes not extraordinary, but effective and powerful within the context of their music.
I can’t help but think, beyond the figures already mentioned, of musicians like C. Mingus, J. Pastorius, M. Miller, S. Clarke (I admit, I’m biased toward these ones… ahah!), R. Ferrante, W. Shorter, M. Brecker, B. Evans, B. Mehldau, R. Glasper, L. Mays — and the list could go on endlessly. The quality of the music brings out the full expressive potential and talent of each musician.
My interest in music has always been total, omnivorous. I still remember my first LPs, purchased between 1975 and 1976 with the money I’d saved and earned from my first private lessons: Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony (the Pastoral); Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos; Jaco with Paul Bley and Jaco; Tale Spinnin’ by Weather Report; Anthropology by C. Parker and D. Gillespie. Some things, those in the more recent music, left me perplexed and I didn’t fully understand the sounds, harmonies, and grooves, but many other LPs followed, and my understanding grew along with my curiosity. I began listening to everything: ethnic, contemporary, Latin, free jazz, Brazilian, soundtracks, flamenco, and obviously even rock, and even if not everything fully satisfied my interest, I tried to understand the forms, sounds, and logic of every piece I listened to. I was deeply fascinated by the forays into Spanish and Latin music in general by groups like C. Corea’s Return To Forever, just as I found pieces by artists like M. Nascimento, Ivan Lins, Joao Bosco, and H. Pascoal intriguing and stimulating. Their complex and refined melodies, based on harmonic structures that, while reminiscent of typical jazz styles, offered diverse and unusual solutions and progressions, were grounded in these complex and refined melodies. Later, my professional experiences also extended beyond jazz and classical music; I was able to successfully juggle various Latin ensembles, big bands, symphony orchestras, and chamber orchestras, often playing original music. All of this still characterizes my approach to music today and is fully reflected in the pieces I write and enjoy performing.
Obviously, what’s missing in the studio is the presence of an audience, with the positive energy they transmit, which can influence the power and feel of the performance. The Threegonos’ music is nevertheless very organized, and the arrangements, except for minor details, are no different from the studio versions. The solo moments are certainly expanded, and the interplay can be different in each performance, but for better or worse, that’s what happens in jazz.
Both Paolo and Gabriella, also longtime friends, are professionals with a broad and rich background. Gabriella wrote the lyrics in Sardinian, to a melody I composed and arranged with ethnic overtones in mind—not African or Middle Eastern, but rather Italian folk. Who else but she, an eclectic musician and genre specialist, could interpret it and find the right ideas to make “Amore cantadu” the song it later became? The result is a nostalgic blend, with profound, inspired lyrics and an at times moving vocal intensity. The song rests on a rhythmic texture that lightly and discreetly emphasizes the vocals but transforms into a powerful and tight Afro under the solos of the saxophone, guitar, and accordion. The finale culminates in a sort of saltarello, a celebration of overlapping voices, a reiterated melody, and a pressing rhythm, making “Amore cantadu” a moving and varied piece. Paolo Innarella, another musician with extensive experience and one of my favorites, has enriched, with the beauty of his sound and his agile, supple and melodic improvisations, in addition to “Amore cantadu”, also 3 other songs: “Questioni di pensiero”, “Let’s play swing (more or less”), and “Altre storie”. These last 2 songs in particular represent what my idea of modern jazz is in a classical formation like the quartet and I will soon release a CD that will collect some songs based precisely on this type of formula, always together with my friends Threegonos and alternating Paolo Innarella and Peppe Russo on saxophones.
I place no limits on my creativity and am already writing songs for upcoming CDs. I also have many friends, incredible musicians, with whom I’ve played over the years and would love to collaborate with them again. And there’s nothing more beautiful and fun than being able to invite them to play on these projects.
I hope for positive emotions, fun, occasional introspection, and ultimately a sense of satisfying lightness that leads everyone to believe that perhaps self-improvement, despite our human shortcomings, is still possible. I hope that each song can represent an inner journey, a “Sonhos diferentes,” and perhaps I’m expecting too much from “mere music.” As described in a Clarke Neck novel, the powerful alien species the Overlords, invading the Earth, thought “how strange it was to see an entire species listening to meaningless combinations of notes and playing with them: music. This is what it might seem like, but “the game of music” certainly generates contrasting emotions, sometimes even unclassifiable. But isn’t that what every art form is for? And anyway, thanks to everyone who will listen.
Summary
Questioni Di Pensiero crystallizes what Threegonos do best: compose with intent, improvise with imagination, and travel widely without losing their center. If you’re new to the sextet, start at track one and let the record unspool like a film—then loop back and catch the details you missed the first time.
Stream the album now, follow Threegonos for show announcements, and if you’re in Rome (or anywhere they land next), go see this music breathe.
