Alessio Creatura - Libero dalle cose: fifteen years without losing his way

Fifteen years ago Alessio Creatura made his debut with “Non ho più pace”, an album born of restlessness that was followed by a more reflective body of work without ever abandoning a solid rock backbone, whether indie-leaning or not. “Che ci amino gli altri” (which arrived, among other things, after shows opening for Roberto Vecchioni and after meeting Giancarlo Lucariello and Maurizio Fabrizio) paved the way, perhaps unwittingly, toward rediscovering the essence of the most classic Italian singer-songwriter tradition, a rediscovery that would prove to be the key turning point for many other artists — from the De Gregori revisited stylistically by Brunori Sas to Avincola's more or less indirect reclaiming of Enzo Carella, to the acclaimed duo Colapesce/Dimartino, not to mention the more recent direction taken by Cesare Cremonini. While always pressing forward under his own steam as an independent artist, he has still landed prestigious collaborations, such as the one with musician and producer Massimo Luca.

His latest work, “Libero dalle cose”, has just come out: an energetic, stripped-down album with a few surprises — such as a heartfelt tribute to Piero Ciampi in the form of a personal reinterpretation of “Ha tutte le carte in regola”. A frequent presence at the Premio Lunezia, Alessio sat down with OndaRock for an exclusive interview.

Alessio, you've just released “Libero dalle cose”. Describing the title track, you said: «We live in an age that constantly pushes us to accumulate: objects, expectations, digital approval, social masks, and we stay anchored to situations or people out of fear of emptiness, forgetting who we truly are. In this song the invitation is to do the opposite: to subtract in order to rediscover the essence». There's a lot of talk about a Gen Z that wants to disconnect, about how 2026 will be remembered as a year of return to the analog (though, as we learned from the United States this summer, there's also a return to digital formats that were too hastily declared dead). Your statement, in short, is something that's already in the air, and your work taps right into it.

«That's exactly right. This tendency among Gen Z isn't a fad, it's an instinct of emotional survival. There's a clear saturation point: the obligation to perform online and rack up digital approval has worn us out. Seeing young people today seeking out vinyl records or moments of disconnection confirms that “Libero dalle cose” is tapping into a collective need. That's what music is supposed to do: give voice to an invisible unease. Subtracting doesn't mean losing, it means making room. True rebellion today isn't about adding or appearing. True rebellion is shedding the masks to rediscover the essence. I'm happy that my album is on that same wavelength.»

“Libero dalle cose” is a lean, short album, direct in the melodies you've built, and once again driven by influences that resist trends. Can we say — and we did say it at the time — that “Che ci amino gli altri”, the first album of yours that OndaRock covered, anticipated a return to classic singer-songwriter music (I'm thinking not just of Brunori Sas and Lucio Corsi but also of a Cesare Cremonini increasingly indebted to Lucio Dalla), and that there were clear references to 90s pop-rock (I'm thinking of vintage Grignani, which was later picked up in some form by Tommaso Paradiso)?

«That's a wonderful compliment, and thank you for drawing that line. Indeed, “Che ci amino gli altri” was born precisely out of the need to put the lyric and the craft of songwriting back at the center, at a time when everything around it was becoming extremely standardized. Hearing artists today like Cremonini or Brunori, but also the new generations, draw on that vast heritage running from Lucio Dalla to the visceral pop-rock of the 90s — like early Grignani — makes me realize that was the right path.
With “Libero dalle cose” I wanted to take a further step in that direction: strip everything down. If the first form of freedom is subtraction, then the album had to be that way too: short, direct, without frills or production scaffolding. The melodies have to land immediately, bare, and withstand time rather than this week's trends. The references to the 90s and to classic singer-songwriter music are still there because they're my roots, but today they're filtered through a different awareness. It's not nostalgia, it's the choice to use ingredients that never expire in order to tell a story about the present.»

You're releasing music once again as an independent artist — this is your fourth album in fifteen years. You've managed to make some important connections, opening shows for Nomadi, Roberto Vecchioni and Riccardo Fogli, and collaborating with an institution like Massimo Luca, or with Pippo Guarnera. Do you have a steady band? Have your musicians contributed to the writing and arrangements, or is your songwriting a solitary process?

«Being an independent artist for fifteen years is a choice born of love and endurance. It means defending your artistic freedom at all costs, accepting longer timelines, but being able to look at every album, from “Non ho più pace” all the way to “Libero dalle cose”, knowing it belongs to me one hundred percent.
Along the way I've had the immense good fortune to cross paths with giants. Opening for Nomadi, Vecchioni or Fogli teaches you the trade out in the field, shows you what it means to be on stage and to reach people's hearts. Working in the studio with pillars like Massimo Luca and Pippo Guarnera was like attending a university of music, one I'll always be grateful for.
As for writing the songs, my process is strictly solitary. I need silence, my piano or my guitar to bring the skeleton of a song to life, to find the words and the melody. However, once the piece exists, the band comes into play. I'm fortunate to have extraordinary musicians by my side — like Max Corona, guitarist and artistic producer on my latest records — and a steady lineup: it's with them, in rehearsal, that the song comes alive and takes shape. Their contribution to the arrangements is essential because they bring their world into mine, but the direction and the soul of the song remain faithful to that initial spark born in solitude».

On strings and keyboards there's a notable presence, Federico Mecozzi, a young multi-instrumentalist who has been touring alongside Ludovico Einaudi for several years now. How did you two meet?

«Meeting Federico was another fundamental chapter in the birth and sonic identity of this album. We wanted “Libero dalle cose” to have that rock, raw edge, but at the same time we were after a deep elegance, an emotional texture that only strings can provide when played with a certain sensitivity. Federico Mecozzi needs no introduction: his exceptional work for years alongside a giant like Ludovico Einaudi, both in the studio and on stages around the world, speaks for itself. But beyond being an extraordinary musician and an incredible multi-instrumentalist, Federico is a person of rare generosity and humility. We crossed paths thanks to a network of artistic affinities right here in Romagna, where we both have roots. When I asked him to collaborate on the project and played him the songs, he immediately embraced the album's philosophy. He understood the spirit of the work right away: he didn't want to “fill up” the tracks to show off, but used the violin, violas and keyboards by subtraction, adding exactly the notes needed to let the melody soar. Watching a talent of his caliber put himself at the service of my songs with such care and passion was a real honor, and it gave the album a beautiful light.»

Libero dalle cose features eight of your own songs, one of which is a reworking of “Ti porto rancore”, which already appeared on “Che ci amino gli altri”. What made you want to return to this song and place it in this new context after ten years?
«Returning to “Ti porto rancore” after ten years felt like an almost natural need. When I started shaping “Libero dalle cose”, I realized that true freedom inevitably passes through forgiveness and moving past the past. You can't really be “free from things” if you're still carrying the weight of old resentments. I wanted to revisit that song to see what remained of that resentment once the noise of time had been stripped away. In this new context, the track still takes on a very hard, very rock, energetic shape, and is still dense with anger.

Why did you put together a more markedly rock album this time, and why does it look so much to our own country (I'm thinking of “Carattere”, which strongly recalls Afterhours but also winks at the raw sound of the White Stripes) as much as to the British and American scenes? “A corto di idee” has a melody that took me back to certain New Order moments, in “Non ci sei mai” we're briefly back in the 80s somewhere between Tom Petty and Billy Idol, and elsewhere — in the title track — there's something of both Francesco Renga and Noel Gallagher (the latter returns in “Vuoto nell'anima”). What have you been listening to in recent years?

«That's a wonderful analysis, and I'm really glad you picked up on all these nuances, because they describe exactly my sonic journey of recent years. The choice of a more markedly rock sound comes precisely from that need for immediacy we talked about earlier. Rock has this strength: it's visceral, it doesn't lie, and it's perfect for an album that wants to “subtract” and go straight to the point without too many production filters.
As for the references, I'm a child of the 80s and 90s, and those roots always resurface. In recent years I've listened to a huge amount of music, but I've mostly gone back to the Anglo-American classics, trying to understand how those bands managed to combine raw energy with pop melody. When you mention New Order for “A corto di idee” or that mix of Tom Petty and Billy Idol in “Non ci sei mai”, you're touching on things that are fundamental to me: driving rhythms and guitars that scratch, but with songs you can sing along to on first listen. Italy, though, remains my homeland, especially in my approach to lyrics. The Afterhours you rightly brought up for “Carattere” are, to me, the ultimate example of how rock in Italian can be jagged, bitter and poetic all at once. And the pairing of Noel Gallagher and Francesco Renga in the title track amuses and honors me: on one hand there's the epic quality of Oasis's melodies, which I've always loved, and on the other the care for vocal delivery and open melody typical of our own tradition. Let's say my recent listening has been a constant bridge between the English moors, the American highways and our own Via Emilia.»

“Libero dalle cose” comes with a video by Gianni Gaudenzi of Luna Video, whose résumé includes work as a camera operator on films such as “Paolo Conte alla Scala: Il maestro è nell'anima”, “Tutti in piedi” about Calcutta and “30 anni in un giorno” about Ligabue. How did this collaboration come about?

"Meeting Gianni was one of those unexpected gifts that this job gives you every now and then. I was looking for someone who could translate into images the concept of subtraction and freedom that runs through the album, without falling into the clichés of modern music videos, where aesthetics often prevail over content. Gianni Gaudenzi's name reached me through a network of mutual esteem in Romagna. When you look at his résumé and see exceptional work with giants like Paolo Conte, Ligabue or Calcutta, you immediately understand you're dealing with a professional who knows how to capture the soul of the music and the truth of the artist, not just a nice shot. Gianni has a rare sensitivity: he knows when to stay a step back and when to step inside the emotion of the song.
We met, I played him the title-track, and there was instant, total chemistry. He understood from the very first listen that the video had to be "free from things" just as much as the song itself. Working with him and the Luna Video team was inspiring; on set you could feel the atmosphere of great film professionals, but with an infectious humility and passion. He managed to give the track a powerful, cinematic and, above all, authentic visual identity."

As for your lyrics, instead, where does the inspiration come from?

My writing almost always starts from a detail, from a moment of observation. It can be a phrase overheard on a train, the look in a stranger's eyes, or a change of light in a room. For me, writing is a way to process reality, a necessity to put some order into the chaos I carry inside. In my lyrics I'm not after fiction or a nice turn of phrase for its own sake; I'm after truth, even when it hurts or when it exposes my fragilities.
For me, inspiration is an exercise in listening, both outward and inward. Songs often arrive when I stop looking for them, when I finally manage to create silence around me and to be, precisely, free from superstructures and expectations. Putting those feelings down on paper is my way of not losing them.

How did you take your first steps in music?

My first steps in music were a very spontaneous path, almost a physical need to express myself. Ever since I was a child, in Vasto, I've always lived surrounded by artistic stimuli: I loved painting, acting, but music had an immediately stronger pull. My very first hands-on approach was behind the drums, studying percussion. Right after that, though, I felt the need to give a more melodic and narrative shape to what I had inside. So, as a self-taught musician, I started picking up the guitar and the piano. I wasn't after academic virtuosity; I was simply looking for an instrument that could accompany my voice and, above all, my first written words.
The real turning point in awareness came later, when I moved to Ravenna for university. Living away from home, immersing myself in the study of Cultural Heritage and breathing in the cultural atmosphere of Romagna gave a different structure to my writing. That's where I understood that music wasn't just a passing passion, but my way of processing reality. From those first songs written in my bedroom, one step at a time, began the journey that brought me here.

Besides the eight songs you wrote yourself, this work also features a cover that was also released as a single: "Ha tutte le carte in regola" by Piero Ciampi. An interesting choice, since we're talking about a cult singer-songwriter (his last album came out in 1976, four years before his death in 1980), who was discovered back then by Gino Paoli, who got him a deal with RCA, and who in 1980 recorded "Ha tutte le carte in regola", a sort of tribute album. We know that Nada recorded an album of his songs, "Ho scoperto che esisto anch'io", Renato Zero dedicated "L'aquilone Piero" to him, and Bobo Rondelli also dedicated an album to him. Even Enrico Ruggeri, in the vinyl edition of his latest studio work "La caverna di Platone", paid tribute to Ciampi. What traits do you share with him?

"Citing all these great names shows just how much Piero Ciampi is an underground giant of our music, a heritage you return to when you're searching for the rawest truth. Placing myself next to him is an act of deep humility, because Ciampi is unreachable, but the choice to cover "Ha tutte le carte in regola" and release it as a single comes from an extremely strong elective affinity.
If I have to think about what I share with him, or at least what fascinates me deeply about his poetics, I'd say three things: the celebration of defeat, visceral authenticity, and solitude as a creative choice. Ciampi sang about personal disaster and his own fragilities with no filter, never seeking the audience's approval or compromising with the trends of his time. There's also a deep connection with the sense of emptiness and isolation. I too need solitude in order to write and to find my essence again, just as he lived on the margins to protect his artistic purity. My version of the song doesn't want to mimic his theatrical, pained interpretation; it wants to be a dry, respectful tribute, one that carries that cry of desperate freedom into the rock, minimal sound of "Libero dalle cose". Ciampi taught us that you can be immense even without ever winning, and that's a lesson every independent artist should carry in their heart."

Porfirio Rubirosa said: "Piero is probably the only singer-songwriter whose personal story is indissolubly intertwined with his artistic output. Knowing his private life means understanding his art. Unfortunately, as time passes, a lot of biographical information, already fragmentary to begin with, is being irretrievably lost, not helped by the passing of much of his inner circle." Ciampi, however, also fascinates foreign artists: Micah P. Hinson covered "L'amore è tutto qui", Peter Hammill covered "Il vino". What fascinates you about Piero, and why, in your opinion, does he deserve to be rediscovered?

"Porfirio Rubirosa is saying something absolutely true: in Ciampi there's no boundary at all between the man and the artist. His life was his work, and vice versa. This being tragically and wonderfully "one and the same" with his songs is exactly what makes his art immortal, but also so fragile in the face of passing time. The risk of his memory fragmenting is real, and that's why we musicians have a duty to keep singing him, so that "magic circle" doesn't fade away.
What fascinates me about him? Precisely this total lack of calculation. Piero didn't write to please, he didn't sugarcoat anything. He laid out his miseries, his depths and his immense tenderness with a purity that is almost frightening today. And it's wonderful, though not surprising, that he fascinates foreign artists of the caliber of Peter Hammill or Micah P. Hinson. Ciampi's despair and beauty need no literal translation: his is a universal language, made of accents, of silences, of gut punches and of an expressive urgency that goes beyond any linguistic barrier.
In my opinion, Ciampi deserves to be rediscovered today more than ever, because he represents the perfect antidote to digital hedonism and the dictatorship of appearances. In an age when we're all obsessed with showing the best, most high-performing version of ourselves, Ciampi throws the sacredness of failure and the beauty of imperfection right in our face. Dusting off his songs means remembering that we're human, that we have the right to be fragile, to make mistakes and to scream our pain without being worth any less for it. Rediscovering Piero Ciampi today is an act of deep mental and emotional hygiene."

You've been to the Premio Lunezia several times, and Michele Neri, in his dictionary "Cantautori e cantautrici del nuovo millennio", confirms you as one of the most authentic voices on the independent scene. What are your autumn dates, and what are the next goals you've set for yourself?

"Receiving such important words from a critic of Michele Neri's caliber in his dictionary, together with the wonderful memories tied to my appearances at the Premio Lunezia, fills me with immense pride. It confirms that the hard work and consistency of an independent path, in the end, leave a mark and are recognized by those who truly listen to music. As for the immediate future, throughout 2026 I'll be bringing "Libero dalle cose" out to the people. The album was made to be played live, to strip itself down even further on stage. In autumn we'll move into clubs with the full band, after the more acoustic, intimate dimension of the summer dates: that way, the more markedly rock and international impact that defines the new arrangements will really be able to explode.
The biggest goal I've set for myself? It's not a number, it's not tied to charts. I simply hope these new songs manage to make space inside the minds of whoever listens to them, helping people strip away a bit of that everyday noise to rediscover their own essence. And then, of course, to keep writing. Because once you free yourself from things, your mind finally starts filling up again with new stories to tell."

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