The Alessandro Savino Project serves up a new single, “SORRY,” and it arrives feeling less like a song and more like a strange, beautiful confession made under the low-wattage glow of a bar sign after everyone else has gone home. The word itself is so insufficient, isn’t it? A pebble of a word meant to fill a canyon. But this track isn’t the pebble; it’s the hollow, echoing space.
It’s built on a polished Pop/Jazz chassis, and all the parts are impeccable. Andrea Ferrario’s saxophone glides in not with swagger, but with a kind of weary resignation. The Hammond organ from Clemente Ferrari gives the whole affair a texture that reminds me, oddly, of the worn velvet on old cinema seats—plush, but haunted by a thousand departed dramas. Alessandro Savino and Oona Rea’s voices weave together, a slow dance between pleading and receding, a dialogue where one party seems to be dissolving into air.
The performance here isn’t about fireworks; it’s about the quiet, devastating implosion of a fantasy. The apology at the core of “SORRY” is a profound act of emotional abdication. It’s the sound of someone realizing they were cast as the hero in a story they could never truly live up to, finally taking off the costume and admitting they were just a pretender in someone else’s fairytale. Roberto Ruvinetti’s guitar doesn’t wail; it just limps along the fault lines.
The track never really resolves. It hangs in the air, saturated with a remorse so complete it leaves no room for forgiveness. It just is. And in the silence after it ends, you’re left to wonder: what sound does the day after an apology like this even make?
