Beatrice Antolini - Beatrice in Wonderland

I meet Beatrice Antolini on the forecourt of the Teatro Strehler, on the first day of the Milano Film Festival, where she'll be playing that evening. Amid organizers dashing from one side of the little square to the other, catering staff setting up, camera operators squabbling over a corner of frame, Beatrice is worried about the car, about parking, about the ecopass. After putting her mind at ease, we calmly begin our chat, detached from all the frenzy around us.

Before we talk about the records, if you don't mind, I wanted to run through your artistic background.

Alright.

You start playing piano at three.

Yes.

Child prodigy?

Nooo. Let's just say I already had something to work out of my system, and music was the only outlet for it.

What kind of piano was it? Satisfy my curiosity here.

It was an old electric piano. Then my parents saw I was spending a lot of time on it and bought me a real piano. I still have it, it's the same one, in fact the keys are brown from how much I've played it.

For me there was definitely the school piano first: I started playing before I started reading music.

At 15 you stop playing classical music. How old were you when you started?

Seriously? Going to lessons, I think at five. By fifteen I'd started doing exams and competitions and I was a bit stressed out, so I preferred to throw myself into rock. (smiles)

Before moving on to the "rock" chapter, you mentioned competitions. You took part in international classical music competitions. What are international classical music competitions actually for?

Oh God, "international". Abroad I only played once in Germany and once in Yugoslavia. I didn't tour the world, let's not exaggerate.

I won a few. I won one in Recanati when I was a kid, and in Velletri I placed third. It was a huge thrill, because everyone else was really accomplished, and I was the youngest, so I was very excited. I remember there was a Bösendorfer, which is one of the most expensive pianos in the world, and since I was used to a much more standard piano, I said: "This piano sucks, it's crap!" and one of the competition organizers, seeing I was just a kid, told me: "Actually, this is the most expensive piano you'll ever play in your life," and I apologized. Obviously now I'd love to have a Bösendorfer.

Perfect. Let's get to your teenage years. You throw yourself into rock, punk, dark, playing bass and drums.

Yes, I also played guitar. I had pretty much everything at home.

Did you study or are you self-taught?

I studied electric bass for two years at a modern music school. Everything else I taught myself. Also because my studies were quite chaotic, I didn't follow a logical path.

Has knowing how to play bass, drums and guitar changed the way you make and write music?

Let's say what interests me most is being able to arrange my records myself, not needing anyone else. Obviously this also brings some shortcomings, because I'm not technically that skilled on guitar and drums. The fact that I can arrange the music by myself means the record has a real unity, and I recognize myself in every part and every instrument. Clearly it's also very demanding, because you have to keep track of an enormous number of things. I don't rule out that at some point I'll make a record with other people too, maybe bringing in a drummer and a guitarist, but they'd have to be people I trust enormously.

Are you fully satisfied with how the records turned out?

Yes, absolutely. Especially the first one, which also had a really strange journey of its own.

At 19 you enrolled at the conservatory.

No. At 19 I moved from Macerata to Bologna.

I went back to the conservatory later on… I also did the Academy of Fine Arts in Bologna.

You have a diploma in theatre.

Yes, I did two years of theatre school in Bologna.

Do you still act?

No. (very curtly)

Why?

It was a great experience that enriched me a lot, but it wasn't my path, also because I was writing the music for the theatre productions too.

I imagine it must be a somewhat schizophrenic activity, writing music and acting for the same show.

Not at all.

I get the impression that the experience of composing for theatre has heavily influenced the music you make now.

Yes. I really like theatre. Above all, as I've often said, I prefer reading it and reflecting on the written texts rather than seeing it performed on stage.

Let's start talking about your records.

How did you come to meet Shinseiki and Urtovox?

I knew Paolo (Naselli Flores, Urtovox label manager) and I put myself forward. We talked, he liked the demos, and after two months we already had the record.

"A Due" has a lot of the Beatrice Antolini of "Big Saloon", even though it's a bit different. It feels more melodic, more relaxed. "Big Saloon" was very instinctive, but it also had something hysterical about it.

Does this one feel less hysterical to you?

Yes.

Ah no, to me the other one feels less hysterical. (we laugh) Let's say this one is rawer, more stripped-down, I feel it's more nervous, more restless. They were two different periods: I was much calmer when I made that record, I lived it in a more homely, more serene way.

Well, the hysteria I sensed was a positive, joyful hysteria.

Yes, it was more joyful, more positive. This other one... not so much, it's a bit darker. It needed to happen: they're the two sides of the same coin. In fact that's also partly why it's called "A Due" (in Italian)... although actually the title is "A Due" (in English).

That's right, that was going to be my next question. I love this title: taken in English it's something forced, something owed; while taken in Italian it almost sounds like a declaration of love.

There's both.

It could be read as my second record, but it also refers to my initials, A.B., which are the first two letters of the alphabet.

Also, for me this is a necessity: I don't make music out of passion, I make it out of necessity, if I don't make music I feel bad. It's also something others owe me: I experience it as a need, a duty, a necessity, even on the world's part toward me.

Then there are two personalities: the more cheerful one and the less cheerful one.

The piano octave that's "A2" in international notation, and where all my songs start from.

Also because I recorded it with someone else, so as a duo.

There are so many meanings.

I imagine you lost sleep over it.

I lost two nights' sleep over a title that seems really simple, but which is important to me.

There's also an anecdote behind it: my dad has a kind of shop, and across from it there's a lighting store called "Due A". I discovered it the last time I went back home, and I was stunned, because it had clearly gotten into my subconscious.

Big Saloon was recorded at home, while A Due was recorded in a studio. How did that go for you?

That studio felt like a home, because I had total control over the whole situation. The only difference was having to deal with time constraints, since a studio obviously isn't free. I had to limit myself on certain things and leave them to chance, whereas on the previous record I was more precise. With this one I couldn't be quite as precise, although the person I recorded with gave me total freedom and stayed up all night with me.

Why did you move to a studio?

Because I needed a place with all the gear, the instruments and everything: having it all in your bedroom, waking up in the morning with cables tangled around your slippers, isn't something that can go on for long.

There were very high expectations for the follow-up to Big Saloon. Did you feel any pressure?

Honestly, I couldn't care less, I'll tell you the truth. As always, I did what came naturally to me. First you put out what you have to say, then you'll hear what everyone else has to say about it. Whether I'll have matched the other record isn't something I worry about. It's a different record, a different thing altogether, four years have passed.

Obviously I thought about making a record that was at least on the same level, so as not to take a step back, but unconsciously, I didn't sit there overthinking it.

For Big Saloon you said the lyrics weren't important.

Not so much.

For “A Due”? More than that?

Yes, yes. Absolutely.

The lyrics for “Big Saloon” were dreamlike fairy tales…

Yes, but also words that were sometimes fanciful, more sounds than words… There was a bit of everything. For this record I paid a little more attention, also because I'm hoping it'll get distribution abroad.

Now that “A Due” is coming out, there'll be a new wave of requests for “Big Saloon”. Will there be a new reissue?

In theory, yes. I hope the new reissues are ready soon, because the new record comes out on October 17th and it would be great to have the other one available too. We're organizing the third reissue, because, luckily, two have already sold out!

That must be quite satisfying, especially since you're not making highly commercial music.

You bet!

“A Due” is also coming out on vinyl. Was that your idea?

No, it was Urtovox's. I've always dreamed of having a vinyl.

What can you tell me about your collaboration with photographer and video director Graziano Staino?

Graziano is a legend! Graziano is the person who's taken the most beautiful photos of me I've ever seen. He takes photos in a personal, interesting, artistic way, not the usual kind of shots. It was a wonderful collaboration, I'm hugely grateful to him and I hope to do more things together soon.

Have you talked about the possibility of a video?

Yesss… but I don't know if I'm allowed to say…

Beatrice, how does one go about becoming a musician?

Well, how do you manage? You manage by working your ass off, and one thing bothers me: that people are always so ready to judge without knowing how much effort goes into it. The situation, not just in Italy, is complicated. It's a difficult job and sometimes people don't realize that. There's never enough money, you're always running around in every direction. It's something you have to do 100%, and you can't have other jobs on top of it.

It surprises me to hear you say this: you now live in Bologna, a young and very attentive city, where these realities should be well known.

I don't feel criticized. What I see in the general attitude, when people talk about a musician, is that the musician's "work" is never really considered: how they manage to do what they do, what difficulties they run into. It looks like it's all roses, but it isn't! It's not easy at all. This isn't meant as a criticism, I'd just like there to be some awareness of everything that lies behind it, and a bit of respect for what someone does.

(Milan, 13/09/2008)

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