Arts and Live Entertainment Reviews

Castillo is Take Two’s ballsy theatrical debut. It is very loosely based on multi-award-winner Clare Azzopardi’s 2018 book.

Despite having had Claire Azzopardi’s book waiting patiently in my home library for years now, I never managed to get around to reading it. I consequently went into yesterday’s show without an inkling as to what I was about to witness. I admit; it did occur to me to race through the book last week just to be able to compare and contrast the presented theatrical piece with the literary work as one is prone to do. But common sense eventually prevailed and I resisted that particular temptation. I’m a slow reader and proud of it. Time should be taken with good books, ideally with a full pipe and a hot mug in hand. Scratch that; time should be taken with a good story, whatever the medium. But especially with award-winning books by Clare Azzopardi.

So yes, I walked into Spazju Kreattiv without the faintest. All I knew was that Mark Doneo was going to play this cocky-looking policeman as per the promotional posters. Which I knew would be amusing enough. Oh and naturally, I was also titillated by fact that it was written and directed by the brilliant Carlos DeBattista and Abigail Mallia respectively, the incessantly ingenious duo who also gave us Gizelle (2006), L-Evangelisti (2008), Deceduti (2010) and the charming cinematic gem, Limestone Cowboy (2017). Oh yes… and a little something called Min Imissu…

Min Imissu Malta GIF - Min Imissu Malta Matthew - Discover & Share GIFs

During an after-performance Q and A, Abigail and Carlos expounded on the many ways their script differs from the original source material. I gathered that while the book remained the main source of inspiration and the story is told through and revolves around Azzopardi’s characters, the script was totally rewritten to better convey the story the Take Two team felt needed to be said. I’m not really able to discuss this in much more detail as, as I mentioned above, I haven’t yet had the pleasure of reading the book.


Plotline (hopefully without giving too much away)

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Amanda (Annalise Mifsud), a young expectant mother, has forever been questioning her own mother Emma’s (a dual role played by Simone Spiteri and Simone Zammit) decision to up and leave her and her father when Amanda was still a child. While trying to get to the bottom of this mystery, she comes across an as yet unpublished manuscript written by her aunt Cathy (Rachel Genovese) who had died in mysterious circumstances many years before. At every turn the figure of Castillo (Mark Doneo) crops up; an enigmatic Police Commissioner who is also the protagonist of a best-selling series of pulp novels written by Cathy before her sudden demise.

Blocking & Choreography

I hope I haven’t given away too much already. If I have, please forgive me. However, attempting to discuss any aspect of this play without divulging too much is proving to be an arduous task, primarily because of the unconventional way the narrative unfolds. Castillo’s primary ‘gimmick’, if I may, is the constant to-and-fro between time periods. Two narratives unfold simultaneously in two different eras, 1980s Malta and present-day Malta, leading up to one solid and satisfying conclusion. So what we’re treated to are a number of present-day segments, flashbacks, and in-betweens. And it’s those in-betweens that are so refreshing and exquisitely executed.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Characters which throughout the majority of the play exist in their own respective eras (present-day or 1980s Malta) now and then seem to be able to float into different time zones, gently slipping through the cracks of time-space, giving the whole thing a filmic, almost Interstellar-like quality at times. I’m not so sure if this was intentional (I think, probably not) but rather an unavoidable force of habit. Abigail is, after all, a consummate film and television director and she seems to have envisioned this theatrical production not too dissimilarly as she would have a screen production. I’m especially thinking of the play’s flashback transitions here. Their effectiveness is startling. There are blackouts between one scene and the other but even simple blackouts are hardly executed in conventional ways.

And there there’s this one particular scene involving four characters which was the theatrical equivalent to split-screen. This scene is a wonderful example of effective and original blocking. Two pairs of characters converse within a few feet of each other, each pair’s lines bouncing off the other’s in the most natural of ways, despite the fact that there is a thirty-year time lag between the two conversations taking place. The whole bit was choreographed like a dance. Fuckin’ fantastic scene.

It is these little flairs that elevate the written word to higher heights and glued me to my seat, not daring to miss out on a single word or a nuance. This is what makes Take Two so damn cool and different. They’re masters at grabbing your attention and keeping it hostage.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Sonic Ambience

As is always the case with places like Spazju Kreattiv, the very confined space necessitates directors to come up with original ways to convey the characters’ worlds to attending audiences. The audio track was wonderfully utilised to this end. The story moves forward through the intelligent use of non-diegetic sound. Sometimes it is important for the audience to give their full attention to what is being heard on these recordings as they serve to actually move the plot forward. Other times they are subtler but still quite effective. Case in point, the scene involving two characters, a mirror… and a music box.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Who would have told me that I would have so many questions watching two women silently combing their hair in front of each other with a mirror standing between them?  Are they the same person? Is she a reflection? Is she … a ghost? Better pay attention!

Script & Acting

The writing is, as was expected from DeBattista, astounding. It is writing as perhaps only Carlos and a few others of his ilk are capable of. As good as the lines are, of course, they are only as effective as their delivery.  And here I must take a moment to note the casting which was utterly genial on two levels.

Firstly, every actor did a great job because they were able to play to their own strengths. None of the actors seemed to be in too unfamiliar waters. On the contrary, it felt like they were comfortable in their respective roles.

Doneo’s titular character is perhaps the most colourful of the bunch. Potty-mouthed, cigarette-wielding, lame-handed Commissioner Castillo is a blast to watch. Say what he will about initially not being too enthused about the idea of returning to stage after twenty years, Doneo seems like he is born to play this role, clearly enjoying every second of it.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

With all his affectations, Castillo may initially appear to be little more than a caricature. But there’s good reason for this; the Police Commissioner isn’t entirely real. Or perhaps he is. Who knows? Go watch the play!

Clearly in love with himself, all Castillo seems to care about is that he continues to be. Not dissimilar to Collodi’s Pinocchio, Castillo recognises himself for what he is (limitations and all), but is also quite content to be the ruler of his own little realm.  

Perhaps this detail doesn’t occur to Castillo himself, but he also serves another, more important purpose in relation to Simone Spiteri’s Emma. I’ll just continue with my Pinocchio allegory and namedrop Talking Cricket here.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Disclaimer: If nothing at all from the above paragraph makes sense, it’s perfectly all right. A second read after watching the performance will make much more sense. Again, I’m striving not to spoil anything. But this is bloody hard!

The rest of the cast is equally superb. We’re presented with real, flesh-and-blood characters who are believable every step of the way. Each character has a complete and defined arch and as an audience, we are welcome to walk every step of the voyage with them. I must point out here that at times, the feature-length (there we go, another cinematic reference) play offers the audience such a feverish rollercoaster of emotions that it sometimes threatens to feel overwhelming.

Rachel Genovese’s Cathy and Francesca Scerri’s Anne’s arches in particular offer ample opportunity for the actors to fully explore different sides to their characters in a relatively short amount of time. From one scene to the next, Anne and Cathy masterfully carry us from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

All the actors’ timing, comic or otherwise, is brilliant. The rapid fire-back and forths between Doneo and Spiteri, and Doneo and Mifsud are particularly delicious. All of their give-and-takes are entertaining, the sensation not being too dissimilar to that of watching a great rap battle. And while I’m sure that (most of it) is scripted, a number of the quips sounded so natural that I wouldn’t be surprised to be treated to different dialogue were I to attend a second performance.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Andre Mangion’s subdued take on the humble, voice-of-reason Matteo is also quite charming. No real surprise there, Mangion has proven time and time again what a behemoth of an actor he is. Same goes for Daniela Carabott Pawley’s Gina, who gave one of the most realistic depictions of the typical Maltese ta’ wara l-persjana housewives.

And now for the other reason the casting was so inspired. Castillo casts different actors as the older and younger versions of two of the characters. A feat which in the best of circumstances, is always tricky to pull off. But here it worked marvelously. The actors playing the same characters not only look like each other (a lot), each pair of actors presented us with one authentic and solid character.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

But really though, what is Castillo all about?

I’m pretty sure that, as in most cases, the taste patrons will leave the theatre with will differ according to the individual. I’m sure that what I left with from yesterday’s performance was by and large informed by who I am and how I personally relate to events around me.  

On one aspect of its many surfaces, Castillo deals with the concept of the frustrated writer struggling to put words on a page. I could easily and readily relate to this element. There are few things worse in a writer’s life than being badgered by his or her own creations who mercilessly express their disappointment how the writer handles them.

But in truth…Mallia and Debattista’s version of Castillo isn’t about the author’s plight at all. Similarly to last year’s Taralalla (2021), it is a very necessary, stark piece of social commentary which leaves you with more questions than answers. And these are the parts to which I would imagine, nobody would be too eager to relate to, as doing so would mean staring the hideous parts of our society in the face.

Castillo did make me wonder, though. When faced with having to choose between living a normal, peaceful life and using my voice for the voiceless, what would the right choice be? And which road do I eventually take? Am I really expected to speak up? To be counted on? To fight other people’s battles? Which battles are my own? And perhaps more crucially…in a country where the search for the truth could mean risking your life, is the truth…

…is what’s right worth pursuing? 

Castillo doesn’t answer these questions but it does hint at possible answers. It knows right from wrong and offers a brief understanding hug to the disillusioned…but offers no real solace. As the last scripted lines are uttered and Amanda and Matteo act on their fateful decision, one obvious fact is blatantly clear for all to understand.

We are the society we deserve.

Photo: Audrey Rose Mizzi

Castillo is on at St James Cavalier until Sunday 20th February.

Read more about it and get your tickets here –

Brodu – Bambinella

Arts and Live Entertainment Reviews

Brodu gave four shows at St James Cavalier’s Spazju Kreattiv between 12th and 14th November 2021. I attended the first of these shows.

‘Ħello, grazzi talli ġejtu. Aħna l-Brodu. Nippruvaw indoqqu l-aħjar li nistgħu.’ Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

It was with this self-effacing remark that Mark (iż-Żiżża) Abela, Brodu’s frontman, welcomed his eager audience on the evening of Friday 12th November.

I walked in a good twenty minutes before showtime. The intimate space at Spazju Kreattiv which housed Taralalla just a few days ago was radically different. Gone was the fog, and the imposing scaffolding was also nowhere to be seen. An assortment of instruments and PA systems were strewn across the floor in its place.

From my point of view.

  The attending crowd was pleasant enough. It looked like it was largely composed of hipster MCASTy people…perhaps a tad too reserved and well behaved for my liking during what was after all, a rock concert. Having said that, the mandatory mask-wearing in addition to the general hallowed-grounds aura at Spazju Kreattiv is quite sobering.

Suffarin: The Supporting Act

Adolf Formosa a.k.a Suffarin

  A young Leonard Cohen came to mind during Suffarin’s four to five song set. This made a lot of sense; much of Brodu’s output also frequently conjures Cohen to my mind’s eye. Its like Żiżża and the Poet of Brokenness are inspired by and find solace in pretty much similar themes; namely loss, thirst (in its various forms) and religion. For this reason, it was great to see that Brodu had Suffarin open their show. Suffarin, simply introduced by Żiżża as Adolf (and Pawlu), perfectly set the mood for the main event that followed. Formosa’s act served as the perfect appetiser; his music and Brodu’s just go so well together, in the same way that Passenger’s & Nutini’s do. Suffarin comes from the same world and offers up more of the same sublime bounty of brash poetry and naked truths.

Adolf and Pawlu. Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

  Both visually and sonically, Formosa’s act is quite stripped down, the quintessential bard and his guitar. His arrangements are raw, barely electric. I was quite impressed with his first number which brought Cohen’s Story of Isaac to mind. Formosa’s strumming serves as the perfect backdrop to the story being told, further embellished by Pawlu’s additional flourishes. I really enjoyed Suffarin’s set and am sure I would have even more, had I been seated on the opposite side, and able to look at the performers’ faces rather than at  the back of their heads.  

Adolf and Pawlu. Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

  Suffarin performed five numbers before diving into the last one which I understood to be written (or co-written) by Brodu’s Żiżża. Abela himself performed this with Suffarin, albeit crouched on the floor as if he were trying to hide himself from the audience’s view (an impossible feat at Spazju Kreattiv) or at least, in a gallant attempt to not hog the limelight. The lyrics were easier to understand this time round, maybe because they were being sung by both men.

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

Għax għal hawn m’aħniex…Għalfejn? Għal xiex? Għal min?’
Ibqa’ għaddej sieħeb, teħlix ħini w’ħinek…
tħabbel żobbok xejn… għax għal hawn m’aħniex… u wara hawn m’hemm xejn…’

And just like that, the theatre was awash in profoundly cynical nihilism, making this track the perfect bridge between Suffarin’s set and Brodu’s. 

Important disclaimer

  Before continuing with my review of Brodu’s show, I think it would be only right for me to state that this review isn’t in any way objective and doesn’t attempt to be. I’m a Brodu fan.

My Brodu treasure!

  I’ve been awed by the breadth and scope of their work since they released Ħabullabullojb back in 2014. I heard it first a few months after it came out. I remember picking it up from D’Amato and popping it in my car stereo, not knowing at all what to expect. I remember expecting them to sound like Brikkuni, no idea why.

Ħabullabullojb (2014)

   Listening to the album from beginning to end in one go gave me the singular experience that can only be had when listening to a really great album for the first time. Such as Abbey Road…or All things Must Pass. Its no exaggeration. Big albums yes, and in both cases (but especially the latter’s), brilliant especially for the fact that they’re a result of many months build-up of unrealised songs. Which is what Habullabullojb, Brodu’s debut, always felt like to me. The distillation of years’ worth of pent-up, inspired gems. The result is a multi-genre epic that showcases what an eclectic band this really is. To date, it remains my favourite…although I equally enjoy listening to Blu (2021) while preferring to reserve 2017’s Tfejt vinyl for those cold whiskey and fireplace evenings.

Ok…on with the show.

Brodu in Concert: Technically

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

  So I was, naturally, still sitting in my same spot when Suffarin stepped off and Brodu came on. I could clearly see Żiżża and drummer Chris Mallia’s profile view. Standing opposite me, facing my direction was id-Drinu. Backing vocalist Fiona stood beside him throughout much of the show. The two I was least able to watch were bass guitarist il-Fre and keyboardist Samuel as they were standing almost directly beneath my balcony.

Drinu’s Clockwork Orange shirt was as iconic as his guitar playing. Zizza’s leopard-print-hat-wearing, boyish on-stage image belied the vulnerable, introspective man who is much more evident on the records. Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

The acoustics were top-notch, each sound was crystal clear. So much so that at certain times, the renditions were so close to the mastered tracks it was uncanny. This is also testament to the band’s many hours of rehearsal and perfectionism, even if on their website, they summarily describe themselves as an ‘undisciplined rock band’.

There’s no doubt that Brodu enjoy themselves on stage as much as they do in the studio. The banter was incessant. The way they constantly teased and joked with each other (as well as with rival band Djun’s ‘Justin Galea’), also evidenced undeniable chemistry, a unity that is only found between friends who really enjoy being in each other’s company. Not even the only female member of the group was spared the teasing as Żiżża made when he remarked about her ukulele-playing and singing combo. Fiona can by now be regarded a fully-fledged ‘Brodu’ (what does one call a singular member of the band? ‘Mgħarfa?’ ‘Kuċċarun?’), and a welcome addition she is. Her harmonies not only blend impeccably with the boys’ vocals, but are actually what give the band their distinct sound. The harmonies, that is, and Samuel’s instantly recognisable 70s-inspired quivering keyboard riffs which make my three year old shout, ‘Isma’, Brodu!’ the moment Inċedi Le starts playing in my car hi-fi.

The Songs

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

Inċedi Le, from their latest LP Blu (2021) is the natural concert opener. The tune (and particularly the opening riff) is pure Brodu, a humble up-tempo retro-ish number with an inspired arrangement. This is something I particularly like about most Brodu songs; most of their studio tracks, intricate as they may be, can still be recreated effortlessly live as each instrument (and in turn, each musician’s talent) is easily detected and recognised in the mix. This is naturally also equally the result of Temple Studio’s David Vella’s brilliant ears and vision. They definitely found the right producer in him. Inċedi Le is all about perseverance and not giving up in the face of unrequited love.

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

‘Nipprova ngħatti d-diżappunt tant evidenti,
wara li għidtli le u komplejt tiddiskuti l-ġrajjiet kurrenti.

  The song starts out that way, anyway. The girl Żiżża is singing about dismisses his affections while going on to swaddle him in heartfelt advice, ‘Iċċedi le! Tixkana iva ‘mma ċċedi le!’ perhaps oblivious to the fact that its her unavailability that’s causing the author so much angst in the first place. Its a sweet song; never overstays its welcome and I especially enjoy the witty, intentional beat-miss during the final nah-nah-nah, a little bit of studio magic which they admirably also tried to recreate live with so-so results.

‘Julia’. Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

  Another Blu track followed, Julia. Żiżża was quite an impressive sight during this track; playing keyboard with one hand, microphone in the other, his eyes closed, whole body seemingly possessed by the music. Undoubtedly, a very personal track to him. Speaking for myself though, the lyric has yet to grow on me, even after (many) repeated listens. I do, however have a lot of respect towards the arrangement. 

  Once Brodu had warmed the audience up nice enough, the ever self-effacing front-man made his official opening statement. ‘Issa se ndoqqu diski mill-Black Album, White Album u Abbey Road…iii! Tkun vera pretentious!’

  This tounge-in-cheek, devil-may-care attitude the band goes by is a major part of the band’s allure, and also what makes them appear as the less-than-disciplined band they proclaim they are. However, and I don’t want to harp on too much about this point, would an undisciplined band be able to perform Balzmu live in that way? Also from the album Blu, Balzmu is a less-than-straightforward, mostly spoken-word poem set to a jazz-inspired musical backdrop, again beautifully showcasing Żiżża’s strength when it comes to penning insecurity and carnal thirst.

‘Julia’. Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

“Jaf forsi nidher tajjeb, nidher sielem, nidher bniedem mingħajr gdiedem, nidher qisni xi iljun; qisni Mario il-brikkun. Mma jien biss selħa fil-ħajt tas-sejjieħ, u fi ħdanek nixtieq nistrieħ.”

Chris Mallia is a bloody inventive drummer who’s thundering pounding makes each track instantly recognisable.
Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

  Mallia’s distinctive intro quickly wasted no time in taking us to the next track, Kif se Nagħmlu, Żiż? off the Intimita’ EP (2018), which is one of their most melancholic songs. The lyrics may be quite ambiguous, but the melody and instruments explicitly convey what the words perhaps struggle to. This performance was one of the first highlights of the evening.

  If Kif se Nagħmlu Żiż?’s lyricism is ambiguous, the same can be said for the majority of the Bambinella EP (2021), of which Neoprene, the next track, is the opener. On this track, Żiżża assumes the point of view of the synthetic rubber used to make wet suits…or maybe I’ve got it backwards and this is in fact, a love song addressed to said rubber. God only knows. It is a cute song, although I do find the lyrics a bit too heavy handed for me to imagine the song to be about anything else but what it appears to about be on the surface; neoprene.

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

“Neoprene; ma’ ġismek indur
Ma’ kull kisra u daħla
Iġġebbidt, tiegħek sura ħadt.
Qatt ma gdibtlek. Just ridtek.”


Similarly, the EP title-track Bambinella also seems to be a love song to an inanimate object; the Maltese June Pear. But is it really? Whatever the answer, I simply adored the sparse and yet impeccable arrangement on the night. Mainly driven by Chris playing a percussive loop on what, from where I was sitting, appeared to be a bell. Then there were Samuel’s synth strings and Żiżża’s masterful chord work. The end result was something that belongs somewhere between Extreme’s More than Words and Wings’ Bluebird. Either way, a totally new ‘Brodu’ sound to my ears.

  Then came the third track off the EP; Żball Kbir. On this track, Żiżża ponders on all the missteps he’s commited, the time he’s wasted and the worries he misplaced. He shouted his lines, inviting his bandmates to echo back his words as if in a litany. In this song he takes on the role of a thinker while the backing voices personify his conscience, just as Paul and John coaxed further reflection from Ringo on With a Little Help from My Friends. I much preferred this version to the recorded one, which I feel is a tad too clinical and which has a habit of tiring me out before Żiżża even gets to the words.

The studio version of Żball Kbir is a new-wave inspired, quite long, and perhaps over-indulgent track which brings 8-bit gaming to mind. If Bambinella is Żiżża being Band On The Run-era McCartney, here he is definitely in McCartney II territory. Which is far from a bad thing; the fact that Brodu can effortlessly and convincingly pull off so many genres just goes to show how proficient they are at adapting to practically any style they attempt. ‘Rock band mhux dixxiplinata’…my foot.

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

‘Id-diska li jmiss hija hit single tal-Brodu’…

The much lauded and already-much discussed Għandi L-Għatx, from Brodu’s second album Tfejt followed before the band jumped into what they introduced as a ‘high-energy, dance track.’ As it turned out, this was to be a complete refurbishment/cover of Kung-Fu Karate, an oldie in the truest sense of the word previously made famous by Fredu Abela il-Bamboċċu in għana style.

Yes, you read that right.

Żiżża suggested the track would be featured in the upcoming album (‘ija, hekk suppost’) and I can’t wait to hear it in its mastered glory. It was such good fun live. They turned such a well-known, straightforward għana on its’ head, not only thoroughly making it their own, but finally making it sound like the sports-song it perhaps was always meant to be. Once again, Brodu proved why they are so damn good; they can make a fifty-something year old għana track come alive like nobody else.

Kanzunetta biex Timla (lit. Translation; just another filler track) followed next, a number that I might not have cared for much when I heard it first, but which I thought was given a new lease of life live and became another track I thoroughly enjoyed on the night.

And then came the EP’s singularly epic single; Chips.

Screengrab from the ‘Chips’ video

Even after listening to it a number of times, I still can’t pinpoint what the song is about or who it is referring to. The video heavily references the football anime Captain Tsubasa, better known as Holly e Benji which I myself was never too familiar with and as a result, don’t feel equipped enough to be able to deconstruct any intended reference between the two products. It doesn’t matter, though. This song ROCKS. Chips is Brodu at their most anthemic and definitely at their most epic.

This is their glorious stadium song, with its uplifting ELO-inspired vocals and foot-stomping beat. It is ballsy, witty and simply eargasmic (to steal a phrase from the late, great Jon Lukas Woodenman), with its heartfelt ‘Kemm int tal-ostja!’ coda effortlessly turning it into a boisterous crowd-rouser. It is definitely the song that received the loudest applause on the night, prompting Chris to cheekily comment, ‘Naħseb din biss daqqejna tajjeb!’ to which Żiżża retorted meekly ‘U le, ma morniex ħażin, naħseb fl-oħrajn.’

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

The band then dove into the (first) final song, Fl-Univers Maġembek, a sort of cosmic love song carried by Lara’s tropical ukelele strumming. It is a sweet, humble number which serves as a satisfying closer for the EP and, with its embellishments of Spanish and Hungarian (I may be wrong on this one) would also have been an adequate enough closer for the evening, cementing Brodu’s legacy not only as a great local band, but rather, universal one. (‘Eeey, how pretentious!’ I imagine would be Żiżża’s natural response to this observation). Alas, Brodu had saved three of their best songs for last, and after some (internal) bickering about whether encores should be a thing anymore (Fre doesn’t see the point!), they delved into the classics Erġajt Waqajt f’Koma, and Kemm Jiena Cool before closing with the natural choice, their evergreen Iċ-Ċimiterju, one of the most beautiful acoustic ballads any Maltese artist has ever produced, period.

In Conclusion

This is a band at its peak. While I’m writing this piece, these men (and woman) are going through their golden age. Who knows how long the peak will last? I hope, for many, many years. They’ve got all the right ingredients, the right measures of talent, wit, humility and drive that make their act so uniquely exceptional.  Brodu can be trusted to rock hard, to write lines that tear away at your soul, and frankly, to deliver much, much more than your money’s worth with every new album, single or EP they produce. 

I had long since given up on finding a local musical artist that really got me. And I say ‘got me’ instead of ‘I got’ purposely. Because that’s how we fickle music consumers are and that’s how fans are many times born. We either listen to music and poetry and say, ‘hey, that sounds a lot like how I feel!…That’s exactly what I wanted to say,’ or else, we just go ‘meh.’ I doubt any consumer ever feels the need to adapts to any artist’s style or innate spirituality. The connection is either there or it isn’t.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that wonderful afternoon in late May 2015, just me and Ħabullabullojb in the Floriana car park. I remember it as a defining moment in my personal life; finally finding an artist, a band, I feel connected to. A band worthy of my time, dime and respect. That band’s name is Brodu.

Grazzi Brodu.

Photo: Elisa von Brockdorff

Get to know Brodu; follow their story, read their lyrics, buy their merch and listen to their music here: