In Ajaccio, the journey begins with listening: three voices entwined in a church, Corsican words at the market and, in the evening, guitars and conversations by the sea.
Some cities are remembered for a colour, others for a fragrance. Ajaccio lingers in the memory above all for its sounds. The calls of the market vendors, the rigging tapping against the boats’ masts, conversations on café terraces, a guitar drifting in from a square. And then, suddenly, three voices meet beneath the vaults of a church and seem to fill the entire space.
So to truly discover this Corsican city, it may be a good idea to stop looking around for a moment. To sit down, wait and listen. Because Ajaccio’s identity also lies in a musical culture handed down orally, in the Corsican language that gives shape to its songs and in the summer evenings that draw life towards the seafront.
Three voices, one landscape
Corsican polyphony needs no instruments to create depth. Voices are enough, often gathered in a very small space, close enough for the singers to sense one another’s breathing and variations.
In the traditional paghjella, three vocal registers intertwine: a segonda, which introduces and carries the melodic line; u bassu, which gives it support and gravity; and a terza, the highest voice, which rises above the others with variations and enrichment. The result is not a polished or predictable harmony, but an intense sonic texture made of tension, vibration and dissonance that seems to emerge directly from the body.
Cantu in paghjella, Corsica’s secular and liturgical oral tradition, was inscribed in 2009 on UNESCO’s List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding. For centuries, it has been passed down mainly through listening and imitation, moving from one generation to the next rather than from one score to another.
Perhaps this is precisely what makes it so moving. You do not hear only a melody: you sense a relationship. Each singer retains their individuality, yet must continually adapt to the others. One voice calls, another supports it, and the third opens up an unexpected space. For a few minutes, three people become a single soundscape.
In the past, these songs would accompany religious moments and occasions in communal life: celebrations, departures, mourning, weddings, work and gatherings in villages. After a period of decline linked to changes in rural society, polyphony experienced a revival during the Riacquistu, the cultural revival movement that emerged from the 1970s onwards. Since then, numerous groups have brought Corsican voices back into churches, festivals and international venues without breaking their connection with tradition.
Corsican, a language to listen to
Even without understanding every word, listening to a song in Corsican means connecting with an essential part of the island. In song, the language does more than convey meaning: it becomes rhythm, accent and breath.
Corsican continues to live in proverbs, place names, everyday conversation and, above all, in oral traditions. It is a language bound to collective memory and a sense of belonging, capable of linking generations and expressing the relationship with the land. Corsican words appear everywhere: at the market, on signs, in concert programmes and in the names of local specialities. Learning just a few is already enough to see the city differently.
Alongside polyphony there is also chjami è rispondi, literally “calls and responses”. It is not strictly a form of paghjella, but an improvised, sung poetic exchange: two performers develop a theme, answer one another in rhyme and test their quick thinking within shared rules. Poetry, irony, memory and social life come together in this practice, revealing how fine the line between song and conversation can be in Corsica.
Where to hear Corsican voices
A church is often the ideal place to enjoy polyphony. Not only because of its historic connection with sacred repertoire, but also because of the acoustics: vaulted ceilings and stone walls amplify frequencies, extend each note and make the voices sound more numerous than they are.
In Ajaccio, it is worth checking the programmes at the cathedral, city-centre churches and cultural venues. During the summer, the Pays d’Ajaccio calendar also features events devoted to polyphony in nearby towns and villages. Series such as Polyphonies du Mercredi showcase male and female ensembles alternating traditional repertoires, sacred songs and contemporary compositions. Dates and venues change every year, so it is advisable to check the local calendar a few days in advance.
It is also worth leaving the city for an evening. In inland villages, a small church or a square can offer a more intimate experience, where the concert retains something of a community gathering. Here, the audience is not merely a spectator: it shares the silence, the closeness and the time the voices need to find their balance.
Contemporary Corsican music is not simply a reproduction of the past. Alongside groups that remain closest to the traditional repertoire, others introduce guitars, violins and new compositions. The language and vocal techniques remain recognisable, while engaging with folk, singer-songwriter music and Mediterranean sounds. Tradition continues to survive precisely because it has not stood still.
A day in Ajaccio in three movements
A day built around listening can begin at the Marcatu d’Aiacciu, the central market on Place Campinchi, just a few steps from the port. Among stalls piled with fruit, vegetables, cheese, charcuterie, honey and produce from the Corsican maquis, the soundtrack is made up of greetings, street cries, knives on chopping boards and conversations between producers and customers. There is no need to hurry: the market is one of the best places to soak up the city’s everyday rhythm.
From here, you can stroll into the old town, passing ochre-coloured façades, the cathedral and Port Tino Rossi. At midday, when the heat intensifies, the sea is very close. The urban beaches of Saint-François and Trottel make it possible to swim without leaving the centre, while those seeking a more open landscape can follow the Route des Sanguinaires, dotted with beaches, coves and waterfront restaurants.
AIn the late afternoon, Ajaccio changes key. Shadows lengthen, terraces fill up and the breeze from the gulf makes walking more pleasant. It is time to head back towards the centre for a concert in a church, or to stop at one of the coastal paillotes, where some summer evenings are accompanied by guitars and live music.
In July and August, city life continues well after sunset, with cultural events, evening markets and open-air festivities.
Sunset as the final note
The day can end at Pointe de la Parata, facing the Sanguinaires Islands. The archipelago consists of four rocky islets at the entrance to the gulf and owes part of its fame to the light at sunset, when the rocks take on red, copper and violet hues. You reach it by following the coast, leaving the city centre and its voices behind. Yet even here, the silence is never complete: you’ll hear the wind in the maquis, waves against the rocks, seabirds and the distant sound of boats returning to port.
This is when Ajaccio’s three voices seem to come together again. The first is the ancient voice of polyphony, able to cross the centuries without losing its intensity. The second is the Corsican language, binding words, places and memory together. The third is the light voice of summer nights, made up of music, the sea and conversations that continue outdoors.
To know Ajaccio, then, it is not enough simply to visit. You have to give it time, wait for the city to find the right key and, above all, let it sing.
