Gianni BEE

My first contact with music occurred in utero, because my mother used to put headphones on her belly to let me appreciate Johnny Clegg and Savuka, or Lady Smith Black Mambazo, saying that the deep rhythms of Africa can’t be bad for your future. A few years after my birth, I was a sort of crazy dancer, whirling around the living room with the opening of Carmen or Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody n°7. At only 9 years old, I left Europe and arrived to the Caribbean. In 2013, one of my older brothers, Ugo, who is a musician, came to visit us and bought me a dusty guitar for 40 bucks in a tiny shop in a tiny town. He taught me five chords and turned on the light: I am going to sing and play the guitar. Since that day, I work, I play music, I si