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yoonavii · 10 months

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Regency Era! Law x F! reader

Description: Lady Y/N defies societal norms with her down-to-earth nature, setting her apart from other noble ladies. During her debut, she captures the attention of numerous suitors, but her heart is unexpectedly drawn to Lord Trafalgar Law, a brooding and mysterious Duke known for his coldness towards women. As their relationship develops, they face the challenges of unraveling Lord Trafalgar’s enigmatic nature and navigating their contrasting personalities amidst societal expectations. Will their connection withstand the obstacles they encounter? or will it crumble?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

As the day of the grand gala finally dawns, anticipation courses through your veins, filling you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Sneaking into the bustling kitchen, you marvel at the scene before you—the skilled chefs working their culinary magic, the intoxicating aromas that waft through the air, and the meticulous organization orchestrated by the lady housekeeper. Your eyes dance around the room, taking in the sight of the maids and male servants lined up, awaiting their instructions. Among them, you catch sight of Emily, who meets your gaze and smiles, a flicker of camaraderie passing between you. But before you can exchange words, the housekeeper’s sharp voice pierces the air, reprimanding Emily for a momentary lapse in attention. A stifled laugh escapes you at the sight, but you quickly quieten, not wanting to draw unwanted attention.

Amidst the flurry of activity, your attention is captured by the figure of Crosby Pine, the head chef. His family has faithfully served your family for generations, their loyalty and culinary expertise intertwined with the very fabric of your estate. Crosby, a man both kind and professional, occasionally reveals his down-to-earth nature, making him a cherished presence in the kitchen. Spotting you amidst the commotion, Crosby’s eyes light up, and he greets you warmly. “Ah, Lady Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he says with genuine warmth. His offer to be his taste tester for a moment piques your interest, and without hesitation, you agree, eager to explore the culinary delights created for the gala.

Following Crosby to a table laden with an array of dishes, he begins listing them off, his voice laced with pride and excitement. You listen intently, your senses enlivened by the descriptions of flavors and ingredients. And then, your eyes settle on a pot dish that exudes an unfamiliar yet enticing richness of color. Intrigued, you interrupt Crosby, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What is this dish?” you inquire, your voice tinged with anticipation. Crosby’s face lights up as he replies, “Ah, that’s the Albondigas, a Spanish delicacy. It’s a hearty meatball stew that’s quite popular in the town of Dressrosa.” He goes on to describe the ingredients he used, painting a vivid picture of the dish’s complex flavors.

He adds, a note of significance in his voice, “And you know, Lady Y/n, I made it because it happens to be the Duke’s favorite.” Your heart skips a beat, your mind racing to process this unexpected revelation. The Duke, whose encounter you had on the countryside ride, would be attending the gala. The realization leaves you flabbergasted, a mix of emotions swirling within you. As if sensing your astonishment, Crosby dips a spoon into the Albondigas and lifts it to your lips. You take a tentative taste, and the explosion of flavors dances across your palate, leaving you utterly amazed. The dish is a symphony of savory notes, a perfect blend of spices and textures. “Magnificent,” you breathe, a spark of delight igniting in your eyes. The Duke’s favorite dish has captivated your taste buds, further heightening the intrigue surrounding his presence at the upcoming event.

As you savor the Albondigas, its exquisite flavors lingering on your tongue, you can’t help but wonder what the gala holds in store. The path ahead seems entwined with the unexpected, promising a night of revelry, secrets, and the unfolding of potential destinies. With each bite, you become even more captivated by the tantalizing mysteries that await you at the grand gala.

———

As your stepmother awakens in her lover’s estate, a soft smile dances upon her lips as she gazes at her paramour’s peaceful slumber. She rises from the bed, the sheets cascading around her graceful figure, and with a sense of quiet satisfaction, she summons the maids of the estate. The maids, well-versed in attending to your stepmother’s every need, promptly respond to her summons. They enter the room, their presence a mix of deference and efficiency, ready to assist her in preparing for the day. With meticulous care, the maids select a selection of garments befitting the stepmother’s elevated status. They delicately dress her in elegant attire, the fabrics cascading around her form, accentuating her grace and sophistication.

As the stepmother’s transformation unfolds, she exudes an air of confidence and allure. Each touch of the maids’ hands serves to enhance her natural beauty, highlighting her features and ensuring that she radiates a regal presence. Once she is fully dressed, your stepmother casts a final glance at her lover, the hint of a secret shared between them lingering in the air. Her smile deepens as she appreciates the moment, knowing that the world beyond this private sanctuary awaits her return. With her preparations complete, the stepmother bids farewell to her lover’s estate, her steps marked by a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The maids, their duty fulfilled, quietly retreat, leaving her to navigate the complexities of her double life with poise and discretion. As she departs, she carries with her the memories of stolen moments and whispered promises, bound by the intoxicating allure of her clandestine affair. The weight of her secrets and the thrill of her hidden desires fuel her journey back to her own home, where the façade of a dutiful wife and stepmother awaits her return.

As the stepmother settles into the plush carriage, the soft rustle of her gown accompanies her every move. With an air of authority, she turns to her trusted head maid, a beacon of loyalty and discretion. “Tell me, has everything been prepared for Y/n’s social debut?” she inquires, her voice tinged with a blend of curiosity and satisfaction.

The head maid nods, her expression displaying a mix of respect and competence. “Yes, my Lady,” she replies, her tone filled with confidence. “All the necessary arrangements have been made, ensuring that Lady Y/n will be presented in the most favorable light.” A small smile curves the stepmother’s lips, her eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue. She delicately unfolds a hand-held fan, using it to gently alleviate the heat of the day as she contemplates her next move. “Excellent,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “Now, my dear, I want you to spread a particular rumor throughout the social circles.” The head maid’s eyes widened slightly, her attention fully captured by her stepmother’s command. “What rumor would that be, my Lady?” she inquires, her voice a whisper of anticipation.

The stepmother leans in closer, her words laced with a calculated determination. “Spread the word that Lady Y/n is now available for courting,” she instructs, her tone betraying a touch of mischief. “Let it be known that she is ready to embark on the path of courtship and find a suitable match among the eligible gentlemen of our society.” The head maid’s brows furrow slightly, a momentary pause reflecting the weight of the task at hand. But with a nod of understanding, she acquiesces. “Consider it done, my Lady,” she replies, her voice a whisper of commitment. “I shall discreetly disseminate the rumor, ensuring that Lady Y/n’s availability becomes the talk of the town.”

A sense of satisfaction settles over your stepmother as she gazes out the window, her mind already weaving the web of possibilities that this newfound rumor will bring. She envisions the social events, the whispered conversations, and the eager suitors vying for your attention. It is a strategic move, a means to further the family’s interests and solidify their standing within the intricate dance of high society. As the carriage glides through the streets, your stepmother’s plans unfold, a carefully orchestrated symphony of ambition and manipulation. She is poised and ready to navigate the treacherous waters of courtship, her every move guided by calculated intent.

Little does she know, however, that the seeds she sows may yield unexpected consequences, intertwining the fates of those involved in ways she cannot foresee. The realm of romance and courtship holds both promise and peril, and as the rumor spreads, it sets in motion a chain of events that will shape the destinies of all involved.

——-

The Viscount’s brows furrow deeply as he listens to the maid’s words, his heart sinking with each revelation. His voice trembles slightly as he struggles to process the weight of the news. “How could she? How could the Viscountess betray our family in such a way?” he exclaims, a mix of shock and anguish coloring his tone. “Tell me, Margaret, where is she? What is the meaning of this?”

Margaret, the maid who had once been a trusted member of the household, lowers her gaze, a mix of guilt and trepidation etched upon her features. “I… I’m sorry, my Lord,” she stammers, her voice quivering with unease. “I have witnessed the Viscountess in the company of another man. They have been meeting in secret, and I felt it was my duty to inform you.” The Viscount’s heart clenches as the weight of his wife’s betrayal settles upon him. The foundation of trust upon which their marriage was built crumbles in an instant, leaving behind a void of hurt and confusion. “Where is she now?” he demands, his voice sharp with a mixture of anger and pain. “Tell me, Margaret. Do not hide anything from me.”

Margaret’s eyes meet the Viscount’s gaze, and in that moment, she recognizes the depths of his anguish. “She is at her lover’s estate, my Lord,” she reveals, her voice laden with remorse. “I have witnessed her depart several times to meet him there.” The Viscount’s jaw tightens as the reality of his wife’s infidelity settles upon him. Anguish and betrayal intertwine within him, threatening to engulf him in a storm of emotions. He paces the room, his mind racing with questions, trying to make sense of the shattered illusion of marital fidelity. “How could I have been so blind?” he mutters, his voice filled with a mix of self-doubt and frustration. “I loved her, and Yet she chose to deceive me.” Margaret watches as the Viscount struggles to come to terms with the truth, her heart aching for the pain he must endure. She can only offer a sympathetic gaze, silently acknowledging the depth of his hurt. With a heavy sigh, the Viscount gathers his composure, steeling himself for the difficult conversations and decisions that lie ahead. He must confront his wife, face the painful truth, and determine the course of action that will safeguard his family’s reputation and future.

“Thank you, Margaret,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “You have done your duty by informing me. Please continue to keep a watchful eye, but let this be our secret for now. I need time to contemplate my next steps.” Margaret nods, her expression filled with empathy and understanding. She retreats, leaving the Viscount to grapple with the weight of his wife’s betrayal. As he sinks into a chair, his mind churns with conflicting emotions and the realization that his somewhat blissful marriage has been shattered by the painful truth of infidelity.

———-

As the Viscountess steps through the threshold of her home, the familiar embrace of its walls fails to offer solace or comfort. The maids, ever diligent in their duties, attempt to greet her with their customary deference, only to be met with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where is she?” the Viscountess demands, her voice dripping with impatience and frustration. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of her daughter, her impatience growing with each passing moment.

The maids exchange uneasy glances, their trepidation palpable in the air. They are slow to respond, their hesitation borne from fear of their mistress’s sharp temper. With a gulp, one of the maids musters the courage to step forward. “Milady, Lady Y/n is currently in the kitchen,” the maid stammers, her voice trembling slightly. “She is assisting with the preparations for the gala this evening.”

The Viscountess’s eyes narrow, her disappointment mingled with a tinge of annoyance. “Why was I not informed of this?” she snaps, her tone laced with frustration. “Is it too much to ask for a timely update on the whereabouts of my own daughter?” The maid shrinks back, her eyes downcast, feeling the sting of the Viscountess’s reproach. “Forgive us, Milady,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “We did not anticipate your return at this exact moment. We are doing our best to attend to our duties.”

A flicker of anger passes over the Viscountess’s face as she considers the maid’s response. She takes a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure, but the frustration simmers beneath the surface. “Ensure that Lady Y/n is summoned immediately,” she declares, her voice now tinged with a hint of command. “I have matters to discuss with her, and I will not be kept waiting any longer.” The maids scurry to fulfill their mistress’s order, their steps quickened by a sense of urgency and the desire to avoid further reprimand. With each step, the Viscountess’s presence looms over the maids, sending ripples of unease through their ranks. Her swift and purposeful stride resonates with a hint of authority, evoking a sense of trepidation among those who cross her path. The mere sight of her sends shivers down their spines, a silent reminder of her formidable presence.

As she passes each maid, a wave of tension fills the air. Their gazes instinctively drop to the floor, their movements cautious and measured, as they strive to avoid any misstep that might draw her attention. The Viscountess, lost in her own thoughts, seems oblivious to the palpable discomfort she instills in those around her.

The maids exchange wary glances as she proceeds, a shared understanding passing between them. Each knows the consequences of arousing the Viscountess’s wrath, and they hasten to complete their tasks with meticulous precision, hoping to avoid any unnecessary encounters. Whispers of her footsteps reverberate through the corridors, amplifying the tension that accompanies her progress. The once-familiar hallways seem to shrink in her presence, their walls closing in as the maids take care to remain unseen, blending into the backdrop of the estate.

Finally, the Viscountess reaches the tea room, the anticipation of her arrival preceding her. The maids who had been preparing the room for her entrance now stand at attention, their expressions a careful mask of servitude. With an imperious air, the Viscountess enters the room, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings with a sharp intensity. The tension in the air is palpable, as if the very atmosphere holds its breath, awaiting her next move.

As she settles into her seat, the maids silently arrange themselves nearby, their eyes averted, not daring to meet her gaze. The room becomes a tableau of subservience, each maid acutely aware of the formidable presence before them. In this atmosphere of trepidation, the Viscountess exudes a power that commands attention, her every action laden with an unspoken expectation. As she awaits the arrival of her daughter, her mind teems with thoughts of control, consequence, and the determination to maintain her influence over the unfolding events.

As you emerge from the bustling kitchen, your mind still intoxicated by the tantalizing flavors, you notice an unusual unease among the maids who approach you. Their anxious expressions raise your concern, prompting you to inquire about the matter. “What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice filled with genuine curiosity. “Why do you all seem so troubled?”

The maids exchange nervous glances, their eyes darting anxiously before one of them gathers the courage to speak. Her voice trembles slightly as she delivers the news.

“Lady Y/n, the Viscountess has summoned you to the tea room,” she whispers, her words tinged with apprehension. “There is a sense of urgency, and we fear that something important awaits you.” Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected summons, and a mixture of anticipation and apprehension fills your being. What could have transpired in your absence? What pressing matters could your mother wish to discuss? Offering the maids a reassuring smile, you express your gratitude for their concern. “Thank you for informing me,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves within you. “I will make my way to the tea room as requested.”

The maids disperse, their worried glances lingering for a moment before they return to their tasks. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself for the forthcoming encounter, aware that this summons may hold significant implications for your future.

As you navigate the hallways, each step feels heavier, and your thoughts race with uncertainty. Questions swirl in your mind, demanding answers that remain elusive. What could your mother want to discuss? How might this conversation shape your aspirations and desires? With determination and a touch of apprehension, you enter the tea room, locking eyes with your resolute mother. The atmosphere crackles with unspoken tension, setting the stage for a pivotal conversation that may redefine your relationship and steer the course of your future. The door closes behind you, enveloping you in a confined space with your mother, as if the weight of the world rests upon this encounter. You brace yourself, steeling your nerves, ready to face the challenges and revelations that await you in the tea room. It is here, in this moment, that the trajectory of your life may be forever altered, as you stand on the precipice of transformation and uncertainty.

As you settle into your seat, the delicate porcelain cup cradled in your hands, a maid swiftly approaches, pouring steaming tea into the delicate china. The aroma of the warm brew wafts through the air, momentarily soothing your nerves as you prepare yourself for the conversation ahead. Your mother’s voice cuts through the silence, her tone a mixture of curiosity and reproach. “Where did you go last night?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any signs of deception. Without missing a beat, you respond, a hint of defiance in your voice, “Nowhere, Mother. I simply stayed within the estate.”

However, your attempt to deflect her inquiry falls flat, and your mother’s gaze hardens, her eyes brimming with suspicion. “Do not take me for a fool, Y/n,” she retorts sharply, her words dripping with disappointment and frustration. “I am well aware of the truth. Do not think you can deceive me so easily.” You swallow hard, the weight of her disapproval pressing upon you. In a brave yet futile attempt, you summon the courage to defend yourself. “Mother, I assure you, I went nowhere of consequence. I simply sought solace in the gardens,” you explain, your voice tinged with frustration and a desire to be understood.

But your words only seem to fuel her ire, and she dismisses your explanation with a wave of her hand. “Solace in the gardens?” she scoffs, her voice laced with disdain. “Do you think I am blind to your antics, Y/n? Your restlessness and desire for independence are no secret to me.” You bristle at her words, the sting of her accusations piercing your heart. You long for the chance to express yourself, to make her understand your aspirations and dreams. Yet, you find your voice muffled by the weight of tradition and societal expectations.

The conversation takes a sudden turn as your mother transitions to another topic, her tone shifting to one of business and practicality. She informs you that two modistes have been arranged to dress you for the upcoming gala at the Claydall estate. Her words are filled with an air of authority, as if the matter has already been decided. Your eyes roll involuntarily, a gesture of silent dissent, as you ponder the extravagance and the waste of resources. You find it difficult to reconcile the frivolousness of such decisions with the realities of the world beyond the opulent walls of the estate.

Internally, you wrestle with a myriad of emotions – frustration, longing, and a growing sense of rebellion. Your desires and aspirations remain obscured, overshadowed by the expectations placed upon you. The Claydall estate, with its grandeur and lavishness, becomes a symbol of the constraints that confine you. Silently, you sip your tea, the bitterness of disappointment mingling with the warmth of the liquid. The conversation with your mother serves as a stark reminder of the delicate balancing act you must perform, navigating the expectations of society while yearning for personal fulfillment.

In this moment, you contemplate the choices that lie before you, seeking a way to carve out your own path amidst the constraints of tradition and duty. The forthcoming gala at the Claydall estate becomes a metaphor for the complex dance you must navigate, as you strive to find your own sense of purpose and identity amidst the opulence and expectations that surround you. “I will find a suitable gentleman to court you,” your mother declares, her tone firm and unyielding. As you watch your mother then take a sip of her tea, the delicate porcelain cup quivering slightly in her grip, a surge of determination courses through your veins. You know that your defiance will likely ignite her anger, but you cannot stand idly by, surrendering your right to choose your own path.

“No, Mother,” you assert, your voice steady and unwavering. “I will not allow you to choose my partner for me. I deserve the freedom to make my own decisions and follow my own heart.” The words hang in the air, a palpable tension radiating between you. Your mother’s eyes narrow, her face contorting with an amalgamation of fury and disbelief.

“How dare you defy me!” she erupts, her voice booming with a mix of anger and frustration. “You are my daughter, and it is my duty to ensure your future is secure. I will not let you jeopardize it with your foolish whims!” The fire within you burns brightly, fueling your courage as you stand your ground. “Mother, I respect your concern for my future,” you reply, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of defiance. “But I believe in my own ability to make the right choices for myself. I deserve a partner who truly understands and values me, and I will not settle for anything less.”

Your mother’s face turns a shade of crimson, her voice trembling with anger as she lashes out, hurling insults and accusations at you. But you refuse to cower beneath the weight of her words. Instead, you summon every ounce of strength within you, defending your right to choose your own path. “I am not a pawn to be moved at your will, Mother.” you retort, your voice cutting through the tension-filled air. “I am an individual with my own dreams, desires, and aspirations. I will not let them be silenced or suppressed.”

The maids, who have been witness to this unprecedented confrontation, look on with wide-eyed astonishment. The air crackles with an electricity they have rarely seen, as you assert your agency in the face of authority.

With your head held high, you rise from your seat, your gaze locking definitely with your mother’s. Her tirade continues, but you have made your choice. You turn away, determined to leave behind the suffocating walls of her control. As you walk out of the room, the resounding slam of the door echoes your determination. The sound reverberates through the halls, a powerful punctuation to your declaration of independence. Your heart pounds with a mix of uncertainty and liberation, knowing that you have taken the first step towards carving out your own destiny.

The echoes of your mother’s anger fade into the background, drowned out by the resolute beat of your own heart. In this moment, you embrace the newfound strength that courses through your veins, ready to face the challenges that lie ahead and to shape your own future on your own terms.

———-

As you step out of the carriage, you are swiftly guided into the grand halls of the Claydall estate. The anticipation in the air is palpable, as the bustling of staff and the murmurs of guests create a vibrant energy. Inside the estate, you are greeted by the two modistes, who are revealed to be twins. They stand side by side, their eyes filled with a keen sense of professionalism and artistic flair. The sight of their identical features creates a sense of intrigue and fascination.

wasting a moment, the modistes spring into action, their nimble fingers deftly working to enhance your natural beauty. They assess your figure, your complexion, and your unique features, determining the perfect ensemble to accentuate your elegance and grace. As they begin their work, maids scurry around you, carefully styling your hair with intricate braids and delicate curls. The gentle touch of their hands and the sound of their whispers create a soothing ambiance amidst the flurry of activity.

The modistes skilled hands glide over your gown, carefully fitting and adjusting each detail with precision. The fabric cascades around you, enhancing your silhouette and capturing the essence of regal refinement. Throughout the process, the modistes and maids exchange whispers and small nods of approval, each contributing to the transformative journey. Their collective efforts converge, harmonizing to create a stunning portrayal of your inner radiance and strength.

As the final touches are added, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The reflection that stares back at you is a vision of elegance and confidence, a testament to the artistry and craftsmanship of the modistes and maids who have worked tirelessly to bring your beauty to life. With a newfound sense of poise, you take a moment to absorb the transformation. The soft glow of the chandeliers illuminates the room, casting a mesmerizing aura upon your ethereal appearance. You are now ready to step into the gala, radiating a captivating presence that mirrors the grace and beauty of the Claydall estate itself.

———-

As the carriage glides along the winding road, the duke finds himself lost in the beauty of the setting sun. The vibrant hues of orange and gold paint the sky, casting a warm glow over the world below. Dressed in the finest garments befitting his noble status, the duke exudes an air of regal elegance.

Seated across from him is his childhood friend, Ace, the son of a baron. Clad in his own distinguished attire, adorned with military accouterments, Ace radiates an aura of confidence and charm. The camaraderie between the two is evident, a bond forged through shared experiences and a deep understanding. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Ace turns his attention to the duke, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So, my dear friend, have you been smitten by a fair lady?” he teases, his voice tinged with amusement.

The duke’s expression remains stoic, yet a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips. “You know better than to pry into such matters, Ace,” he retorts, a note of warning lacing his voice. But Ace, undeterred by the duke’s attempt to deflect the conversation, leans closer, his voice filled with mock excitement. “Come on, you can’t keep it a secret forever. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know when you’ve met someone who has captured your attention.” The duke’s gaze softens for a moment as he recalls the encounter with the spirited lady during his ride. “She is an intriguing young woman,” he concedes, his tone betraying a hint of admiration. “But that is all I will say for now.”

Ace grins triumphantly, relishing in the small victory. “Ah, the Duke of Dressrosa, taken aback by a lady’s charms. Who would have thought?” he jests, the playful banter bringing a lightheartedness to their conversation. The duke chuckles, a rare sound that escapes his lips. “Rest assured, Ace, I am not easily swayed,” he asserts, his voice laced with a mixture of pride and conviction. “But I will admit, there is something captivating about her.” Their playful exchange continues as the carriage continues its journey towards the gala, the lighthearted banter offering a reprieve from the weight of their responsibilities. The duke, despite his stoic demeanor, finds solace in the presence of his childhood friend, knowing that amidst the grandeur and expectations of the evening, their bond remains unbreakable.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world into twilight, the duke and Ace find comfort in the camaraderie they share, ready to face the gala and all the possibilities it holds. With a shared smile and a final jest, they brace themselves for the night ahead, where the mysteries of the heart and the allure of the unknown await them both.

©𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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diceriadelluntore · 2 months

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Storia Di Musica #314 - Susan Tedeschi, Live From Austin TX, 2004

Le storie di chitarre femminili di febbraio volevano sviluppare, lo ricordo per questo ultimo appuntamento, una questione che avevo sentito per radio (ho recuperato pure i particolare): durante la trasmissione Morning Glory di Virgin Radio, condotta da Alteria, alla domanda "quale sarebbe il tuo mestiere dei sogni" una giovane ascoltatrice scrisse "diventare una famosissima chitarrista, perchè non c'è ne sono". Alteria, che è anche musicista, ha subito cercato di smentire, ricordando Sister Rosetta Tharpe, la grandissima blueswoman e cantante gospel degli anni '30-'60 del 1900. Tuttavia, e alla fine di questo percorso che è sempre anche un'occasione per imparare qualcosa di nuovo, sono arrivato alla conclusione che, dal punto di visto della fama e della riconoscibilità, aveva ragione l'ascoltatrice, non c'è mai stata per gli indicatori appena descritti una chitarrista riconoscibile come Hendrix, Blackmore o Jack White, per citare tre chitarristi di epoche differenti. Allo stesso tempo, non vuol dire che non ci siano state chitarriste tecnicamente e musicalmente eccezionali, e le scelte di Febbraio 2024 sono solo un antipasto di un viaggio che lascerà deliziati chi vorrà continuarlo. Per concludere la carrellata, oggi vi porto a Norwell, Massachusetts, dove all'interno di una famiglia di origini italiani, i Tedeschi (che sono facoltosi, proprietari di una famosa catena di supermercato in tutto lo stato) nasce nel 1970 Susan. Sin da piccola è un prodigio nelle recite e a sei anni ha una piccola parte in un Musical itinerante che una compagnia locale porta in giro nella contea. Cresce in mezzo ai dischi, e per quelle strane ascendenze del gusto, si appassiona ai ritmi e alle atmosfere del blues. Susan Tedeschi frequenta il Berklee College, come Emily Remler (la prima protagonista delle storie di Febbraio) e si specializza in canto gospel e a 20 anni si laurea. Ne ha pochi di più quando fonda la prima Susan Tedeschi Band, con Adrienne Hayes, Jim Lamond e Mike Aiello che, dopo una fondamentale gavetta nel locali di Boston e dintorni, vengono notati da un musicista e produttore, Tom Hambridge (che vincerà nella sua carriera 7 Grammy Awards), che li mette sotto contratto per la piccola etichetta Tone Cool e produce il primo disco, che per scelta sua vedrà a luce solo a nome Susan Tedeschi: Just Won't Burn del 1998 è un grandissimo debutto, con la seconda chitarra di Sean Costello (uno dei più grandi talenti chitarristici di quegli anni, stroncato a 28 anni da complicanze della sua dipendenza dalla droga) che ha due hit da classifica in Rock Me Right e It Hurt So Bad, scritte con Hambridge. Il disco venderà tantissimo per un disco blues di una piccola etichetta, 500 mila copie, e porterà Susan Tedeschi a suonare per gente come John Mellencamp, B.B. King, Buddy Guy, The Allman Brothers Band, Taj Mahal e Bob Dylan. Nel 2003 apre quasi tutti i concerti americani del Licks Tour di un certo gruppo inglese, appena arrivato ai 40 anni di attività, i Rolling Stones, acquisendo una fama crescente, anche per le sue meravigliose qualità artistiche, che penso si esprimano al meglio nel disco di oggi.

È chiamata, per la terza volta, ad esibirsi per l'Austin City Limits, uno dei programmi musicali più famosi degli Stati Uniti, che trasmette un concerto dal vivo di 60 minuti sui canali della PBS, che è la televisione pubblica negli USA. Insieme a lei, William Green all'organo Hammond, Jason Crosby alle tastiere, violino e ai cori, Ron Perry al basso e Jeff Sipe alla batteria. Live In Austin TX esce nel 2004 ed è un delizioso esempio di classe e maestria musicale: la chitarra e la voce di Susan giganteggiano, senza mai strafare, ma lasciando evidenti tocchi di bellezza (tra l'altro vi invito a fare caso alla differenza che ha la sua voce quando canta e quando, quasi timida, ringrazia con un Thank You gli applausi). E la sua chitarra è una espressione di questa dolcezza: mai ossessiva, ma affilata e precisa, con assoli eleganti e morbidi, accompagnati da inserimenti degli altri strumenti. In scaletta pezzi del suo repertorio solista (It Hurt So Bad, la sofferta I Fell In Love, Wrapped In The Arms Of Another), altri scritti per lei (The Feeling Music Brings dal futuro marito Derek Tucks) ma soprattutto una meravigliosa collezione di cover, dove viene fuori il suo canto di impostazione gospel e tutto il suo talento: You Can Make It If You Try di Sly And The Family Stone, Gonna Move di Paul Pena, Alone di Tommy Sims (che produsse Streets Of Philadelphia di Bruce Springsteen), Love's in Need Of Love Today di Stevie Wonder e un suo cavallo di battaglia, sia su disco che dal vivo, Angel From Montgomery di John Prine, che è così strettamente identificata con Bonnie Riatt, altra grandiosa cantante e chitarrista, il cui testimone è preso da Tedeschi in questo senso. C'è il soul di Voodoo Woman di Koki Taylor, uno strumentale meraviglioso come Hampmotized e c'è la cover più bella e sentita di Don't Think It Twice, It's All Right di Bob Dylan: la versione originale del grande di Duluth era basata su un folk tradizionale, Who's Gonna Buy You Ribbons When I'm Gone?, e riprendeva un verso da una rielaborazione dello stesso brano fatta da Paul Clayton, che rititolò il brano Who's Gonna Buy Your Chickens When I'm Gone. Il brano ha una leggenda in sé: si dice che fu scritto da un giovane Dylan (il brano fa parte del leggendario The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan del 1963) preoccupato e "geloso" del fatto che la vacanza della sua allora fidanzata, Suzie Rotolo (che è la ragazza che appre nella copertina dello stesso disco a braccetto con lui), in Italia si stesse allungando troppo, immaginando quindi come sarebbe stato raccontare un litigio. In realtà come scrisse Nat Hentoff nel libretto originale (Hentoff è stato critico musicale del Village Voice per 51 anni) è probabilmente il primo degli innumerevoli "discorsi con sè" di Dylan, "un'affermazione che magari puoi dire per sentirti meglio… come se stessi parlando da solo". l'arrangiamento slow blues di Tedeschi è fantastico, con il violino e l'organo Hammond, e diventerà per anni uno dei momenti più attesi dei suoi concerti.

Concerti che saranno sempre il fulcro principale della sua attività, soprattutto dopo l'incontro, prima sentimentale e poi artistico, con Derek Trucks, altro chitarrista formidabile, erede della dinastia Allman Brothers, con cui formerà dal 2010 una Tedeschi Trucks Band, vincendo nel 2012 un Grammy con il disco Revelator. Una grande artista e un'altra grande chitarra da scoprire.

#susan tedeschi #live in austin tx #2004 #recensione

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