If Vivaldi ever sat down to sip yerba mate with Aristophanes, the wild wind that would blow through their conversation might sound something like “El viento en los sauces”. Now, don’t be misled by the softness of that title. What appears to be a simple ode to nature blooms unexpectedly into a collision of landscapes and histories—Patricio Anabalon (who hails from the rugged horizon of Chile) and Giorgis Christodoulou (whose Mediterranean roots might as well bleed olive oil and thyme) come together, not as an experiment, but as an inevitability.
The dance between Latin American warmth and Mediterranean light results in an aura of peace, yes, but also of a deliberate invitation to simplicity—without ever being simple. This isn’t music to be reduced to descriptors or pinned neatly to a genre board. Instead, it feels like the salt spray of two distant seas that inexplicably mingle in the breeze as though they’ve known each other for centuries, and perhaps, they have.
To listen closely is to linger in the moment where heritage becomes a sunset, and feminine beauty is not worshipped, but observed—quietly, tenderly. While the rhythm urges your feet to wander, the melody pulls your heart into introspection. And yet, you don’t merely listen to “El viento en los sauces”—you step inside its fickle airflow, where stories murmur just beneath the surface. Would Sor Juana have danced to this? Or simply leaned back and closed her eyes?
As the last note thrums softly on the strings, one has to wonder: how did two men from such different corners of the earth remind us that at our core, we’re all in conversation with the same wind?
