Amakorà: The Sound of Calabria's Soul

Discover Amakorà in this interview with musician and songwriter, Sandro Scidà. As you dive into the band's music, you'll discover a blend of tradition and innovation, and feel the land's love for Calabria.

Photo courtesy of Amakorà.

Picture this: you're winding your way through the olive groves and floral-scented air of Calabria, Italy. The sun dips low over the hills, casting a golden glow on stone villages that seem to grow out of the land itself. 

Suddenly, you hear it drifting from the stereo of a car with the window rolled all the way down: a drumbeat like a heartbeat, a voice ringing out in dialect, and a melody that feels both ancient and entirely new. That's Amakorà. Not just a band, but a movement. A bridge between generations, a love letter to Calabria, and a living, breathing soundscape of one of Italy's most overlooked regions.

I had the pleasure of speaking with Sandro Scidà, the musician and songwriter of Amakorà, to learn more about his band (and guess what? This is also the very first interview I’ve done in Italian, so I think we can confirm that my language lessons are indeed working).

What follows is more than an interview, though; it's an invitation into the heart of a band born from roots, rhythm, and rebellion.

Amakorà: A Name Forged in Love for Calabria

Let's start with the name. Amakorà. Even saying it out loud feels like casting a spell. But as Sandro explained, it wasn't just plucked from thin air.

“Originally, the project was called ‘Subsicinum,’ a name linked to the Vazzanese territory: it was an ancient Roman site near Vazzano that was destroyed by an earthquake. It is said that the refugees of Subsicinum founded today's Vazzano, our hometown.”

Beautiful, right? However, Sandro admits, “It was a name that was too difficult to remember and not memorable enough from a marketing perspective.” So, the band locked themselves in a room for a week with books, dictionaries, and no shortage of passion.

“That's how we came up with the word ‘Amakorà.’ It's a word we invented by joining two parts: ama, from the verb ‘to love,' and korà, which sounds similar to the Greek word chora, meaning 'land' or 'territory.' So, for us, it means 'I love the land,' and it reflects our deep connection with Calabria, which we express through music."

This isn't just branding. This is belonging. “Amakorà is our declaration of love for the land, and we try to reflect that in our lyrics and live performances.”

https://youtu.be/PDaWA1UJyGQ?si=yeHp_gD11VND5pft

Tradition with a Twist: The Sound of Contamination

When you listen to Amakorà, you're not just getting tambourines and tarantellas. You're getting something bigger, bolder, more layered. Sandro explained how the band navigates this delicate line between tradition and innovation.

"First of all, for us, music is a means. The end is not the sound itself, but what we want to express with it. The concept always comes first: the message, the emotion, the meaning of the song."

So, what does that look like in practice? If they're telling the story of an ancient ritual, the sound might be raw, earthy, stripped back to its roots. However, if they're singing about something current, something living and breathing, the production might lean towards a more modern sound.

"We don't put up walls," Sandro said. "In fact, we believe that folk music, in its origins, was not pure. It was a mix of everything that happened to be in that territory. In Calabria, Arabic, Norman, Byzantine, and many other influences all mixed together and created what we now consider folk. So, the true tradition is contamination."

What a delicious word to use in such a positive way: contamination. Amakorà treats it not as a blemish, but as a badge of honour. "We allow ourselves to be contaminated while keeping an eye on our cultural roots."

Photo courtesy of Amakorà.

The Audience Is the Show: What It Feels Like to Be There

I had to ask: what does it feel like to be at an Amakorà concert, up on the stage? I mean, I know what it’s like to be in the audience (it was my first and second concert that I ever experienced outside of Canada!). When answering, Sandro didn't skip a beat.

"At our concerts, we want people to feel emotions. It's not just about entertainment. We want there to be catharsis." And oh, there is. Their shows are not about pyrotechnics or flashy gimmicks. They're about the collective heartbeat. The moment when strangers become a temporary community.

Think of linking arms with your friends and spinning around the piazza while you scream-sing the lyrics along with them. Think of stomping to the beat as your body sways to the music. Think of the pure joy of being a part of something intended to be collectively experienced, so much so that it changes for you an entire evening (and beyond).

"We're interested in touching people's hearts, in creating a space where the community can experience something together, even if everyone enters with different experiences."

If you're picturing a band aloof on stage, forget it. "We break the fourth wall," Sandro told me. "We want people to feel part of something, not just passive spectators. In fact, for us, the audience is part of the show. Each concert is unique, and it's the public that makes it so."

If you ever catch Amakorà live, don't bother staying in your seat (that is, if you can even find one). You're not there to observe. You're there to participate.

Lyrics That Dig Deep: Emigration, Memory, and Meaning

If you're expecting bubblegum lyrics or empty choruses, turn back now. Amakorà digs deep, often into Calabria's most painful and beautiful truths; their lyrics and music are often drawn from the memories of Vazzanese elders. Emigration, resistance, land, identity—these are not just themes, they're cornerstones.

But where do their songs start? Sandro shared that the process is fluid. "Sometimes the lyrics come first, especially if there's a story that strikes us or something we want to share. Other times, the sound comes first, a rhythm or a melody that evokes a certain atmosphere."

It's not a one-man show, either. "We work collectively. Often, one person brings an idea, and then we work on it all together, until we feel we've found the right form. It's a long and sometimes tiring process, but it's also what gives our songs their depth and coherence."

You can hear it, too. These are songs that have been shaped, not churned out. Songs that feel like they were lived before they were written.

Calabria as Muse and Mission

Calabria, as any local will tell you, is a paradox. It is as resilient as it is raw, as complex as it is captivating. What does it mean to represent this land through music, though? Sandro answered with the kind of gravitas you'd expect from someone who has made this question his life's work.

"It's a great responsibility, but also an honour. We feel we're part of a process of reclaiming identity that's happening throughout the region." Indeed, there's a quiet cultural revolution happening here. One where young Calabrians are reaching back into the soil of their heritage, dusting off the dialects and folk tales, and realizing they're not relics, but rather, resources.

"Through music, we try to offer a different narrative of Calabria: not just the usual stereotypes, but a living, complex, and dynamic land. We talk about its problems, but also its strengths. We sing about pain, but also about beauty."

Here's the line that stayed with me long after our conversation ended: "We want young people to feel proud of being Calabrian. That they don't feel like they have to erase their origins to be accepted or to feel modern. Because identity is not a weight, it's a resource. It's something you can always draw from, to create something new."

Photo courtesy of Amakorà.

As a descendant of a Vazzanese who was born and raised in Canada, even I am so very proud to be Calabrian. This year, in Italy (and beyond), has stirred something in me that feels deeply ancestral, as if it was always there, just waiting to be nurtured and coaxed out. However, I think this deep love for Calabria doesn’t have to be something poured only from your blood; it can be embraced and felt by anyone in Italy or beyond the Italian borders.

This is the most beautiful thing about music, isn’t it? It can unite people in ways you might not have even considered.

All in All

By the time you finish listening to an Amakorà song—and I mean really listening to it, not just streaming it while you scroll Instagram—you'll understand something deeper about Calabria. This isn't just a band. It's a vessel. A storyteller. A community builder. A soul in song form.

Whether you have Calabrian blood in your veins or you just love music that matters, I can't recommend Amakorà enough. Their music is a passport to a place that refuses to be forgotten.

Let their music lead you down a cobblestone street in Vazzano, into a crowd of dancing strangers, through a story of sorrow and survival and song. Maybe, just maybe, it'll lead you back to a part of yourself you didn't know was missing.

You can follow Amakorà’s journey at the following spots:

• Website

• YouTube

• Instagram

• Facebook

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#Europe #Italy #Calabria #concerts #culture​​