Hi, I'm David Berkeley. I'm a songwriter in town. I've been on tour so much that when
I first contacted Fredo about a year ago to do one of these, this is the first one we've
been able to do when I haven't been on tour. So about a year ago, my wife took me and my
son, Jackson, to Corsica for the year. And this is where we lived in a village called
Trelanca, which has 35 people in it, 38 when we three were there. That's my wife, that's
there, she's pregnant now, she's sitting there. This is an abandoned village that we did a
pilgrimage to. We did a lot of hikes to different places to study the local people. That's a
diver bag right there, which is the essential modern gear for the female anthropologist
who has to go to the field with her husband and a son. This is me with my son, Jackson,
hiking through the mountains. Corsica is an amazingly beautiful place. Really mountainous
in the interior, beaches around the perimeter. Hardly developed, about two-thirds is wilderness,
and most of the villages are precariously hanging in the mountains, isolated from everything.
I mean, there's power and running water, but there's a sort of cold, rough beauty there.
Things are handmade a lot, and people have been living in the same places for generations,
so you could easily have a family who knows that his great-great-grandfather built that
roof or made that church. There was a fear that we had the whole time we were there,
as well as an appreciation for where we were. This is my son, Jackson. This is Bastia, which
is one of the two big cities there. This is one of the only flat places on the whole island,
and when you have a one-year-old toddling around, there were a lot of places where he
could fall easily off a cliff. That wall is a lot lower than it actually looks. We did a lot
of these pilgrimages to ancient chapels in the mountains for my wife to record singing and stuff
that was going on, the prayers that they were saying. Then we would descend halfway down the
mountain, and they'd cook these big open-air picnics, roasted chestnuts, and meat, and pass it around.
They'd drink a lot. They'd sing a lot, and I would try to find places where Jackson and I
could take naps. The singing was one of the most amazing parts of the culture. This is called
the Padgello, which is sort of a three-part chant that sounds both a little bit western and also
a little bit Middle Eastern. Basically, the men stand in a tight circle like a huddle in a football
game and scream at each other. It was traditionally sung in the fields. This is a friend of ours
who makes charcuterie, which is one of the local delicacies there. Corsican food is sort of a
combination of French and rustic Italian. They eat a ton of meat. That's the figatelle over there
on your left, which is a blood sausage that you would cook in an open fire and let the drippings
fall onto this thick artisanal bread. You'd eat it with this ricotta-like cheese. The village that
we lived in was full of these amazing little staircases that went to nowhere, and little tunnels,
and the kids knew the village intimately every step of it of the way. It also was another great
hazard for our son, Jackson, who would love to descend headfirst down a staircase like that.
I got to look for a cable so I can play in a second. This is our village. I wrote a lot of songs there.
It was what I did most of the time that I wasn't watching my son. The songs, I think, show both the
beauty, some of it, and also the kind of fear and alienation that I at least felt there,
not really able to speak any French. A lot of bells there are ringing. The song I'm going to play
for you starts with the ringing of the bells, which I'm recording on my new record, which will
be out this fall. The rest are just going to go while I sing.
In the morning bells kept ringing. You were calling. No one's listening. No one knew the reason why.
No one knew the reason why they rang. At the table you were crying. I was unsure how to reach you.
You opened up your arms. Opened up your arms to let me in. Of course, I'm calling from over here.
Oh, sorcerous conger of some kind of cure. Please hold me like you used to. Baby, hold me like you would.
Please hold me like you know what I'm going through. Somehow told us, keep your distance.
There are secrets that we keep here, and that's as close as you'll get. That's as close as you'll ever get.
Of course, I'm calling from over here. Oh, sorcerous conger of some kind of cure.
It's dangerous to open up more and more. Please hold me like you used to.
Baby, hold me like you would. Please hold me like you know what I'm going through.
It's a little late.
