The piece itself is built on a canny bit of casting. Green, classically trained but restless, handed his compositions to pianist Irene Veneziano and the string quartet Archimia, and the result has the poise of a chamber recital with the pulse of something considerably less polite. Veneziano's playing carries the kind of unforced authority you'd expect from one of Italy's most accomplished contemporary interpreters — she doesn't decorate the melody so much as inhabit it, letting phrases breathe where a lesser player might rush to fill the silence. Archimia, meanwhile, provide the atmospherics: strings that swell and recede with a cinematic patience, never quite tipping into syrup, always pulling back a half-bar before sentimentality curdles into schmaltz.

What Green has actually written is a small marvel of restraint dressed up as indulgence. The bones of the piece are unmistakably classical — you can hear the conservatoire in the voicings — but the skin is pop, indie, even a faint smear of blues inflection creeping into the phrasing here and there. It shouldn't cohere as neatly as it does. Genre-splicing this ambitious usually collapses under its own cleverness, all seams and no substance, yet "Age of Dreams" moves with the unhurried confidence of a composer who trusts his collaborators to carry the weight he can't manage alone. Recorded at Studio Elfo near Piacenza — a stone's throw, tellingly, from Green's own childhood turf — the track has the settled intimacy of music made somewhere the composer felt safe enough to be sentimental.

And sentimental it is, unashamedly. The conceit — youth as a country we all eventually get deported from — could tip into greeting-card philosophy in less careful hands. Green mostly avoids that trap by letting the music do the arguing rather than the lyrics or the liner notes. The piano carries the wonder; the strings carry the loss creeping in behind it. That tension, between innocence remembered and innocence already half-gone, gives the piece its genuine ache.

It's a confident opening gambit for a trilogy that could easily have drowned in its own concept. On this evidence, Green has the compositional discipline and the collaborators to pull the whole thing off. Whether the remaining chapters — adulthood's compromises, legacy's reckonings — can sustain the same tenderness remains to be seen. For now, "Age of Dreams" earns its title: wistful, unguarded, and quietly accomplished.