I’ll keep this simple. I’m Kayla, and I actually sat in a room and felt this music in my bones. I saw Antonello Salis live in Sardinia, then I went home and played his records till my neighbors knew his name too. So, yeah—this is real. If you want the quick back-story of the man himself, here’s a handy overview on Wikipedia.
If you’re curious about every twist and turn of that first encounter, I broke the night down minute-by-minute in this separate recap.
How I Found Him (and why I was unsure at first)
A friend dragged me to Time in Jazz in Berchidda last summer. It’s a small hill town. Warm night air. Dust on my sneakers. I wasn’t ready for anything heavy. I just wanted a drink and some easy tunes. I’d spent the afternoon on the coast—here’s my honest stay at a beach resort in Sardinia—so I was in vacation mode and not expecting to be blown away. If you ever plan to experience the festival yourself, this detailed guide to Time in Jazz in Berchidda can help you map out the trip.
Then Antonello walked out with a grin, an accordion, and a piano that looked like it had stories.
You can dive deeper into his world—tour dates, albums, and fresh videos are all waiting on Antonello Salis’s official website.
You know what? I braced for “background jazz.” I got fireworks instead.
The Live Set That Hooked Me
Real example one:
- Place: Time in Jazz, Berchidda, Sardinia
- Seat: about three rows back, dead center
- Drink: a plastic cup of a cheap Negroni, a bit too sharp
He started on the piano with a soft run. Then he stood, opened the lid, and strummed the strings with his hand. Light taps. A hiss, a hum. He kept time with a heel stomp that shook the floor. It felt like someone knocking on a door inside my chest.
Halfway through, he grabbed the accordion. Warm air in a box—that’s what it sounded like. He didn’t just play notes. He bent them, teased them, made them laugh. He threw in little bits that felt like folk dances—turns and skips—and then slid back into deep, late-night jazz. At one point, he shouted a line into the body of the piano, and the sound swirled back like a ghost.
I got chills during a slow, minor piece that built and built, then broke open like a wave. People around me stopped breathing for a second. You could hear the wind outside the tent.
I left with dust on my ankles and a grin I couldn’t shake.
A Smaller Room, A Wilder Night
Real example two:
- Place: Jazzino, Cagliari (small club, low ceiling, red lights)
- Time: early spring, midweek
- Seat: at the side of the stage, near the left speaker
This one felt raw. The mix wasn’t perfect—piano a touch hot, accordion a bit shy—but his energy filled the gaps. He switched between instruments like he was talking to two friends at once. I remember a fast piece in odd time where he clapped a rhythm and the room clapped back, messy but joyful. He winked at an older couple near me when he quoted a tiny phrase from an Italian folk tune. They laughed, then cried a little. I think that says plenty.
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And hey, if your travels eventually carry you far from Sardinia—say you find yourself drifting along Florida’s Gulf Coast and craving company that’s as open-minded and unforgettable as an Antonello solo—you can browse OneNightAffair’s trans escort listings in Bradenton to meet welcoming, professional companions who’ll help you keep the spirit of a wild, music-soaked evening alive long after the final encore.
At Home With Headphones
Real example three:
- Gear: old Sony cans, small desktop amp
- Tracks: his duos with a trumpet player (you can find a bunch on streaming), and a live solo set recorded in Italy
The duos are airy and brave. Lots of space. Notes hang like lanterns. When he brings the accordion in, it blooms, round and salty, like sea air. On the solo set, he bangs the low end, then whispers in the high keys, and somehow it still feels like one story. I used these tracks for late-night work. I also used them while folding laundry because life is not a movie, but music helps.
Side note: my dad kept an old accordion in our attic. I never loved it then. Antonello made me want to pull it out, dust and all.
What I Loved
- He plays with joy. You can hear the smile.
- He blends jazz with folk roots. It feels local and wide at once.
- The accordion tone is warm, never thin.
- He takes risks. Some are wild, and many land just right.
- Live, he brings the room into the song—claps, snaps, breath, all of it.
What Bugged Me (a little)
- Inside-piano sounds can get scratchy. If you hate that, fair warning.
- Some tracks wander. It’s the nature of improv, but still.
- Club mixes vary. I had one night where the lows boomed too much.
- If you want smooth, hotel-lobby jazz—this isn’t that.
Who Will Click With This
- Fans of playful, fearless jazz
- Folks who like accordion greats and Mediterranean color
- People who enjoy live sets where anything can happen
- Night owls who love slow builds and sudden turns
How I’d Start If You’re New
- Watch a live clip first. Seeing him helps the sound make sense.
- Try a duo session next. The space gives you room to listen.
- Use real speakers if you can. The low notes feel better in your body.
- Late evening, low lights. It pairs well with quiet.
Tiny Things That Made Me Smile
- The heel stomp. It’s a heartbeat.
- The quick grin before a risky leap.
- A short quote from a folk tune tucked inside a heavy chord.
- The way he moves—like he’s dancing with the piano, not sitting at it.
My Verdict
I’d see him again tomorrow. I’d even sit closer, though I might bring earplugs just in case the room booms. He made me feel awake in a slow, kind way. Not many players do that.
Score: 4.5 out of 5.
Would I recommend? Yes. If you like music that breathes and sweats and dares, go hear “Salis Antonello.” Take someone you love, or go alone. Either way, you’ll walk out a little lighter, with dust on your shoes and a tune stuck to your ribs.