La bessa

Song of the rice-planters, widespread throughout the Po Valley

Aven ciapè la bessa l’avem magneda aièr,
an magnarem un ètra, cunzè cun di crumir.

Crumiri schifosi, la vostra lega l’e una lega da ninèn.

Caporale no’ ci sfidare alle crumire devi badar.

La Maria l’è ‘na ruffiena in risaia non la vogliam,

Siamo donne, non siamo bestie, vogliam essere rispettà.

We caught a grass snake, yesterday we ate it;
the next one we eat will be seasoned with the scabs

Dirty strikebreakers, your union is a pigs’ union.

Foreman, don’t challenge us, you’d do better to silence those people.

Maria is an informer, we don’t want her in the rice fields anymore.

We are women, not beasts, we want to be treated with respect.

Mondine are the women who worked in the rice fields of northern Italy for a little more than a century (roughly from the second half of the nineteenth century to the first half of the twentieth). Standing with their feet in water for twelve hours a day, exposed to malaria and the abuse of overseers, these women were forbidden to speak while working. Their sharp, resonant voices, often compared to the croaking of frogs, sang of everyday life far from home, of hardship, love, and struggle.

The songs of this repertoire constitute an extraordinary example of social singing, as well as an effective pedagogical tool for approaching traditional folk singing more broadly.

Mondine polyphonic singing emerged collectively as a means of communication, a way to break the monotony of labour, to encourage one another, and to affirm a shared sense of belonging within a community.

It is interesting to observe how the conventions of this singing style adapted to the realities of work and daily life.

 

Solidarity, Class Consciousness, and Emancipation

The seasonal migration of large numbers of women from diverse cultural backgrounds enabled them to develop forms of solidarity and collective awareness that would have been impossible within the closed world of the peasant household.

This was the first generation of women to experience life outside direct family control. Discovering a shared condition of subordination fostered a new awareness of exploitation. This awareness often found expression in sarcastic mockery of landowners and foremen, but also in criticism of the rigid patriarchal order that had long defined the moral horizon of rural life.

As a result, songs increasingly voiced—often with irony and insolence—claims to a certain degree of sexual freedom, aspirations toward emancipation, and a readiness to engage in collective struggle.

The mondine themselves, who helped ignite many of the social uprisings that swept across the Po Valley at the end of the nineteenth century, also played a leading role in creating highly advanced forms of peasant solidarity through the resistance leagues (leghe), celebrated in the best-known song of the mondina tradition, La Lega.

Repertoire

The repertoire drew from the oral traditions of many different regions and cultures, but not exclusively. It includes folk ballads, satirical and risqué verses, dance songs, love songs, protest songs and songs of social denunciation, opera melodies, and—following the arrival of radio—popular commercial songs, often with rewritten lyrics.

Because performance was never intended for an audience, tempos were frequently stretched out (after all, time had to pass somehow), and sections of one song could easily merge into another with little concern for narrative coherence. The language employed was often a mixture of Italian and dialects, a kind of lingua franca drawing primarily on the local speech varieties of the Po Valley.

Vocal Style

The vocal aesthetic followed principles very different from those of the bel canto tradition taught in music schools and associated with more privileged social classes. The voices are tense, bright, and penetrating, capable of carrying across open fields and extraordinarily rich in overtones thanks to a highly resonant vocal production.

These were voices considered “disturbing” according to both the aesthetic standards of the time and, in many ways, those of today—above all because they were women’s voices refusing to remain in their assigned place, voices unafraid of being judged excessive, vulgar, or unruly, and which instead transformed their very distinctiveness into a declaration of identity and belonging.

Harmonisation Practices

A characteristic feature of mondine singing is its preference for thirds and fifths. The recurring harmonic framework is so accessible and effective that almost anyone can join a song without knowing it beforehand and without disrupting its structure.

A lead singer—often the oldest or most charismatic member of the group—introduces the opening phrase, establishing rhythm and key. One or more voices answer at the interval of a third, while the rest of the group joins with a drone. Melismas, suspensions, and melodic variations further enrich the texture.

This constitutes a genuine training ground for understanding the fundamental principles of harmony without necessarily knowing any music theory.

All'arie

Chants from the Holy Week rituals, recorded by Giovanna Marini in Pisticci in 1971

All’arie, all’arie, la – ssala passaje
L’afflitta dolorosa de Maria,
oi de Maria
L’afflitta dolorosa de Maria.

Vede a lu figlie su – e strascinate
Miezz’a na chiorma de cavalleria,
cavalleria
Miezz’a na chiorma de cavalleria.

Currite tutte qua – nt’ le verginelle
Scit’a bedé Gesù ca j’è malate,
ca j’è malate
Scit’a bedé Gesù ca j’è malate.

Sopra la croce lu- liette s’è fatte
Lu cusciniell’è de spine granate,
spine granate
Lu cusciniell’è de spine granate.

A la senistra c’è- la Matalune
Cogghie lu sango ‘nta na jarraffine
na jarraffine
Cogghie lu sango ‘nta na jarraffine.

Sa l’ha pigghiata ‘na- botta de lancia
A la parte senistra de lu core,
oi, de lu core
A la parte senistra de lu core

S’ha da levaje lu- stendarde russe
La trumme nun se lente de sonaje,
ohi, de sonaje
La trumme nun se lente de sonaje.

Far away, far away, let her pass,

The sorrowful and grieving Mary.

 

There she sees her son,

led away by men, Amid the horses of a cavalry troop.

 

Come quickly, young women, come all of you,

Come and see Jesus Christ in his suffering.

 

He has made his bed high upon the cross,

And for a pillow he has crimson thorns.

 

At his left stands Mary Magdalene,

She has gathered his blood in a flask.

 

He received a thrust from a lance

In the left side of his heart.

 

Raise high the red banner,

Sound the trumpets without faltering.

 
 

Song collected by Giovanna Marini in Pisticci, Lucania (Southern Italy)
In 1971, Italy held a referendum on repealing the law that prohibited divorce. The country was deeply divided. The Catholic Church used all its influence to prevent the repeal from succeeding, although many priests disagreed with the official position.
For example, Giovanna Marini recounts that Don Giovanni Tammaro, a worker-priest, openly supported the legalization of divorce. The social upheaval caused by migration—which, between 1870 and 1980, involved around 22 million Italians, especially from the South—had shaken the patriarchal social model that had governed rural society for centuries. In that model, a wife was still often regarded as little more than her husband’s property.
When migration projects failed to unfold as planned—typically involving first the father, then the sons old enough to work, and finally the wife and daughters—new families were often formed abroad without the formal dissolution of previous marriages. Many marriages continued to exist only on paper.
The bishop intervened to censure Don Tammaro’s position. However, the priest was greatly loved by the villagers and refused to back down. Eventually, the bishop himself arrived, accompanied by his driver, intending to remove the parish priest from his post.
According to local accounts, the women of the village were waiting for him at the entrance, their faces grim and determined. Once the bishop entered the village, he, his driver, and his car disappeared without a trace. A message was reportedly sent to the Vatican: Leave us our priest, or we will kill the bishop.
The priest remained.
The incident attracted national attention, and the small village became one of the symbols of the struggle for the right to divorce. Giovanna Marini travelled there and discovered that, throughout the campaign, the women of the village had been singing an ancient Passion song, a vernacular Stabat Mater in which the Virgin Mary laments the fate of her son.
Songs of this kind were excluded from official liturgy because they were sung in dialect rather than Latin, and because they portrayed the characters of the Gospel in an excessively familiar way. Like figures from mythological tales, reshaped over generations of oral transmission, they became emblems of the human condition. In the Passion songs of peasant culture, Mary simply becomes the symbol of every mother who loses a child.
The song thus serves to sublimate a grief too great to be expressed directly.
In 2018–2019, a major struggle against gentrification unfolded in the centre of Marseille. The municipality was determined to push through the redevelopment of La Plaine and its market, one of the city’s most popular public spaces. Singing played an important role in the movement, thanks in part to the presence of a long-established activist choir, La Lutte Enchantée.
Unfortunately, despite residents’ opposition, the project was ultimately approved. The local collective then decided to organize a “funeral for public consultation” and asked me to teach them a lament to sing in procession.
I chose to teach them All’arie, which was performed accompanied by a brass band.
Anarchist activists singing about Mary and Jesus, in an Apulian dialect, in the homeland of secularism. Enough to drive future ethnomusicologists mad!
A few years later, I discovered that the song’s lyrics had been adapted and translated into Occitan. Stripped of its religious references, it had become a song of La Plaine’s independent Carnival, celebrating the reversal of social roles and hierarchies.
From one ritual to another, the tradition lives on!

O rondinella

A song widely known throughout Italy; here is a version collected in Campania and arranged by Angelo Pugolotti

O rondinella che vai per la Francia
dimmi l’amore come si comincia
E si comincia con sospiri e canti
e si finisce con pianti e lamenti
sospiri e canti
e si finisce con pianti e lamenti

O little swallow flying to France,
tell me how love begins
It begins with sighs and songs
and ends with tears and lamentations
sighs and songs
and ends with tears and lamentations