A Georgian musician studying abroad in Italy. A Pakistani Kebab shop on the island of Sardinia. A familiar home far away and a new place of respite just off the piazza. Tbilisi artist Rati Eradze recounts a story of a very special culinary-musical encounter.
Somehow, the stars aligned and, as a student of Ilia University in Tbilisi, I was able to do an Erasmus exchange in Cagliari. From October 2023 to March 2024, I was there studying music technology, taking classes about Max/MSPMax/MSPa visual programming language for music and multimedia
, on systems and technologies and how they integrate with music. It wasn’t my choice where they sent me for the program; I didn't choose this town situated on the seaside of Sardinia, an island in the South of Italy, but I hate the cold and the winter, so it was the perfect place to spend those months.
The culture there was also quite different from mainland Italy. I got the impression that they don’t consider themselves to be Italian at all; there was this understanding of colonialism and embrace of decolonization that felt familiar to me, coming from Georgia. We also both have these unique polyphonic singing traditions. I felt that somehow, the energy wasn’t that different—I just felt at home there, which was a surprise.
But on arrival something funny happened, something my friends back home would destroy me for, given Italy's famous culinary culture: I started kind of “taking shelter” in a kebab place. I'm an avid kebab enthusiast; in Tbilisi, I'm really known for being a “kebab head.” So I almost immediately took solace in the nearest kebab place, Baba Kebab, five minutes from my house in a corner of Piazza Garibaldi.
The moment I tried it, I knew it was distinctly good. Throughout my stay in Sardinia, I had a pizza here and there, but in the end I just kept going back for these kebabs. If I was hungover, maybe I’d go for a double kebab but generally just went with your standard wrap.
After about a month, the owner started to recognize me. We didn’t talk too much, but he always gave me a bit of extra meat, a kind of gesture of acknowledgment. And one day in December, he overheard my friend and I talking about our conservatory studies. “You guys are musicians?” he asked, and then we gave him our story. “Georgia is beautiful. I'm from Pakistan. We're all from Pakistan. This is a Pakistani doner kebab place.” That seemed to be some kind of a connection point, the fact that we were from the “East,” living in a “Western” place. So, without even asking me what kind of music I make, he said “Please make me a Baba Kebab theme song.”
I immediately agreed. I didn’t ask any further questions. He wrote down his email on my receipt. I had a choice to imitate some of the Indian pop music I found on their Tiktok, but it felt like it would be an ironic caricature and chose not to go there, instead to do a funny, but uncompromising, version of the Baba Kebab theme song. He had made one request: “Say Piazza Garibaldi venti tre, our address. You have to say it, you have to say it at the end!”
I made two versions, one was a kind of “Gen-Z” auto tuned piece, which I wasn’t sure if he would be happy with, so intentionally I made the second a bit more commercial, a happy guitar song. I recorded them, sent them to his email, and got his reply right away. To the first song he replied: “It’s good brother. It sounds good.” And to second one: “Yes, this is good, but make more songs than music.” It was a very concise email with very short feedback.
I’ve left Sardinia and it still appears he hasn’t used the tracks for anything. But for the remainder of my time there, I did notice that when I ordered he didn’t just add a bit more meat—he really stuffed the kebab until it was almost overflowing, a kind recognition of my musical labor.
