Bruno Bavota's story reads a lot like one of those fairy tales that most musicians dream of living. Begun with no particular pretensions of genre, his career took off just as unexpectedly and suddenly, turning him within the space of just three years into one of the best-known and best-loved faces of Italy's contemporary instrumental scene. All thanks to his incredible ability to speak, through his piano and guitar, the language of ordinary people, doing so with class while steering clear of genre affectations and academicism. His is an "easy" music, one that makes emotion its creed, going straight for the heart. Rather than chasing some highbrow blend of experimentation and classical references, Bavota has, over the course of three albums, forged an exquisite form of popular music, favoring dialogue between his instruments over the more conventional song form. It's music that reflects the traits of his native city, Naples, still today one of his chief sources of inspiration. His secret? He probably doesn't even know it himself, but we tried anyway to get him to reveal it in the conversation that follows.
I'll start by asking you the same question I put to two of your contemporaries, Federico Albanese and Fabrizio Paterlini: this is a rather positive moment for you composers in the so-called modern classical scene. A great many are managing to find a way out of obscurity. And, proportionally, a great many are approaching with ever greater enthusiasm a genre that in the past was often reserved for "classicists." What do you think is behind this breakthrough?
I think it's a genre that manages to move people emotionally, it takes listeners on quite a journey, and I find it's cross-cutting because it manages to embrace a wide circle of listeners. Paradoxically, anyone can get into it, whether they're into pop, metal, or more refined music.
The phenomenon is certainly European in scope, but for once it's taking root quite a bit here in Italy too: have you had a chance to experience this expansion firsthand?
In Europe a strong circuit has definitely formed around modern classical, with several labels putting out artists in the genre every year. In Italy I think we can say a movement has formed too, even if it's more niche and comes from a different background. By now we pretty much all know each other, and we meet up every year at Piano City.
Even so, I imagine it wasn't easy to break through, especially since Italy still isn't exactly a promised land in this respect, is that fair to say?
Breaking through is really tough, also because we Italians, before looking abroad, tend to search for a possible path within our own country first. Unfortunately, this creates a huge waste of time and energy. Let me explain better: since a real circuit of labels/promoters able to push the genre forward has never truly formed, we find ourselves up against a wall that's really hard to break down, despite the breakthroughs of Einaudi and Allevi, who are by now on the verge of the mainstream. There's still a lot of skepticism, and few are ready to "take a risk" on the genre. I think we remain in a very thin, and at the same time chilling, limbo: we oscillate between being seen as an important scene and being treated as background music for aperitivo hour. In Italy the conviction is still missing that, as happens abroad, this is a genre that can easily be presented in clubs, and above all, I strongly believe there's a large audience ready to embrace it.
The piano remains the primary instrument for many of the composers who approach this world. What do you think is the reason it's so favored, and in your case, what's your relationship with this instrument?
The piano is a complete instrument and, at the same time, extremely fascinating. Within its 88 keys it has everything, and I believe it manages to reflect all the emotions that belong to a person, to their soul and their heart. It's an instrument I adore; sometimes when I'm traveling and away from home, I miss it. It rarely happens that a day goes by without me playing it, or without me looking at it with the awareness that I feel like a very lucky man every day.
What do you think of your Italian "colleagues"? I already mentioned some of them at the beginning...
I consider Fabrizio a friend, we talk very often and it's always a pleasure for me. We discuss what's new, what to do, how to do it, and I also ask him for a lot of advice, and we often have a good laugh! I really like his music, and it reflects who he is as a person. I've also listened to Federico's record; I don't know him personally, I hope to meet him soon: really a great work! I also really appreciated Stefano Guzzetti's album, released this year on Home Normal, a solo piano record, intimate and delicate.
Let's talk specifically about your career: what is, in short, your story? Where did your journey start from?
I started at 24, beginning with guitar, and under the name Adailysong I formed a guitar-and-violin duo playing instrumental music, with no particular ambition, just for the pure pleasure of the soul. Then in 2010, two years later, I recorded my first album, "Il pozzo d'amor", and again with no particular ambition, I had a few people listen to it here and there. The record was very well received, especially by the audience; I tried to get it heard by fans of Ludovico Einaudi and similar artists, and to my surprise the response was wonderful. Many people wrote to me and still do, and that's when I started believing in it and felt the urge to really give it a try, even though I wasn't quite sure how!
Then I had a major turning point with "The House on the Moon": I managed to grow my audience, especially abroad, and also caught the attention of several journalists, which eventually led me, in April of last year, to bring my music to the Royal Albert Hall in London, which drew a lot of attention to what I do. That's the account of my career, but I feel much more connected to the emotional story that led me to music, a love story with a happy ending. I've been lucky enough to find what I love, what keeps my inner fire alive: you can live an entire life and never find that fire I'm talking about. Even in moments of discouragement, torn between the urge to fight and the fear of not making it, I think back to when I was 26, degree in hand, and decided to shelve that degree and dive into my dreams. Today, at 30, I can say with conviction that it's the craziest and wisest choice I've ever made!
At the moment you have three albums to your name, quite different from one another. The first is perhaps your least known work, so much so that even I only recently rediscovered it: how did it come about and what does it represent for you?
The first album is always the first album. It's a record that contains everything, every part of me: love, melancholy, tears, strength, passion, fragility. It came together within just a few months, all the tracks were written in one go. The first album carries with it, and with me, a strange feeling: it holds all of my emotion, but sometimes, precisely because it's the first, you tend to set it aside and think only about improving yourself, forgetting where you came from. Then you realize that on that record there's "La danza delle stelle", "L'abbraccio" and "Tempesta", which for me represent three emotional bombshells, and you also understand why so many of my listeners feel so attached to "Il pozzo d'amor", and by extension, how much it represents you.
The second album, "The house on the moon", is credited to an ensemble: what led to this choice? How did the transition happen between that work and the previous one?
I've always loved string instruments, especially the cello, which alongside the piano creates perfection. The album came out three years after the previous work, so it has a more mature emotional depth and composition; it's a very different record from "Il pozzo d'amor", which I immediately felt was more complete.
The latest one, "The Secret Of The Sea", on the other hand, is essentially the album that established you, yet it already moves in a fairly different direction. What changed in you and, as a consequence I imagine, in your way of making music?
I felt like I wanted to give something more, and above all I felt the need to bring to the live stage an album with nothing missing, with all the sounds that make it up actually present. I've always loved the guitar, and I managed to find a way to fit it into a broader musical idea. I won't hide the fact that it was also a lot of fun to bring guitars and piano together, both while composing the tracks and while listening to the final result. My overall approach to making music stays the same, just with a bit more awareness.
Definitely unexpected was the choice to leave the solo piano behind in order to incorporate treated guitar... A perspective that clearly turns toward another kind of contemporary sound, that of atmospheric music. How did you arrive at the decision to take this new path? Were there any particular listening experiences that influenced you in this?
I'll tell you the truth, I had very specific sounds in mind that could accompany the piano and support it in a way that would expand its emotional charge, always trying to keep my own signature. I listened a lot to Hammock and I immediately fell in love with their ethereal atmospheres, which came very close to the sound I had in my head. So after a bit of research I found a delay and a reverb that reproduced exactly the sound in my mind.
I've always found the titles of your tracks extremely fascinating, so simple and direct, tied to small things, free of intellectual pretension, and full of life. And what's especially interesting is that they always deal with "lived" experiences, from emotions and sensations to visions and places. This comes through a lot in your music too: plenty of heart and as much spontaneity as possible. Do you think that's part of the secret that makes your music both refined and accessible at the same time?
Thank you so much, you've hit the question right on the mark. The titles are never random and, as you rightly said, they are emotions, visions and sensations. Each title reflects exactly the emotion I experienced, a moment that's always different and intense, trying to welcome the listener in, to slowly guide them toward my own emotion, which I then hope can become theirs too. Beauty always lies in simplicity, in what is essential.
Would you be offended if I called you "the pop face of the modern classical scene"? Because in my opinion pop is a beautiful word, one that fits all the qualities I listed in the previous question...
I actually think it's a wonderful definition, so I'll take it with great pleasure!
As I said before, there's a lot of emotional charge in your tracks, even though it's an emotionality made of small things rather than psychodrama... Is this a deliberate approach to composing that you're conscious of, or is it still part of the spontaneity we were talking about earlier?
Actually, over time I've realized that my music reflects my approach to life, which I believe and hope is passionate and positive. That doesn't mean I write my tracks with a smile on my face — quite the opposite, I've often found myself crying, and fortunately it still happens to me; I'd honestly be worried the day I stopped crying! Maybe I try to turn pain, insecurities, difficulties and anxieties into something with a positive meaning. The pain we feel today will be useful to us one day, and if I hadn't repeatedly asked myself about my place in the universe, music wouldn't have saved my life, and I wouldn't be here now!
Generally speaking, how does one of your tracks come to life? Though I imagine the process is different every time...
It almost always comes from a feeling experienced at a particular moment, from a state of mind. It can happen in the most unexpected and varied ways; it's as if I sense something inside stirring my soul, a fire running through every part of me. When that happens, I know it's time to embrace the piano and simply wait for it to warm me and comfort me. In the end, my tracks are about embraces, stars, houses on the Moon... about places that are far away, but also very close to our hearts.
Going back to your career, your first work came out on Lizard, a small institution of the Italian underground. How did you come to meet them, and how was your experience working with them?
In a record store in my city (what wonderful times those were!) there was a clerk who was very attentive to the whole independent underground scene, both Italian and international. I had him listen to the record and he told me about Lizard. I wrote them an email and the label's owner, Loris Furlan, replied — a truly wonderful person with whom a relationship of mutual respect formed right away. I had a great experience working with him; the music world really needs more people with his kind of humanity. Unfortunately, since it's a prog label, I was "forced" to look for a label with a catalogue closer to my own genre.
Now you've found your way to another great outfit, younger and still growing, like Psychonavigation. In my opinion, much closer to you both in approach and in the type of catalogue. What can you tell us about this experience?
I get along great with Keith, he's always available to the artist and always quick to answer emails. Having wide physical distribution for the record has helped me a lot, reaching markets like Japan, where at the end of last July a limited edition of "The Secret Of The Sea" came out exclusively for that market. So, all in all, a very positive experience.
Do you plan on changing labels again for your next record?
Let's see what happens!
I had the pleasure of attending your beautiful performance at this year’s Piano City Festival, which came off well despite a whole host of technical and environmental hiccups… How do you feel about playing live? How does the emotional communication we talked about earlier relate to the live dimension?
Thank you! Playing live is my ideal dimension, it’s about putting yourself on the line every time. I’m a tremendously emotional person and, above all, I’ve stuttered since I was a child. For someone who stutters, speaking in public is an existential drama! I assure you! But that’s the beauty of it too, being yourself always and everywhere.
As I mentioned earlier, the art of instrumental music now known as modern classical has long been the preserve of “classicists” or, in any case, musicians who found it hard to break away from an academic framework. Do you think that era is coming to an end? And, in your opinion, does it really make sense to define this kind of music as a modern form of classical music?
I’d leave classical music where it is, in its immensity. I can’t tell you whether it really makes sense to define this kind of music as a modern form of classical music, but I can tell you that it’s more accurate to speak of a new genre of music, one with a different intention and approach compared to classical music, which will always remain timeless.
What does Naples, your city, mean to you?
For me Naples means love and passion, it’s my city and I adore it, I feel very connected to its warmth and its uniqueness. Then there’s the other side of the coin, namely the absurdity that a city like Naples no longer pulses with music; there are plenty of talented artists, but there are no festivals or venues where you can breathe in music, and the few that remain are shutting their doors. It’s paradoxical to me that if one evening I feel like listening to some music in Naples, I wouldn’t know where to go. I’m seriously thinking about moving elsewhere, and even though it might be a wise choice in line with my dreams, I know I’ll experience it as a defeat, and it will be a day of infinite sadness.
What plans do you have for the near future?
On August 24th I’ll be playing at a beautiful festival in Aliano, in Basilicata, “La Luna e i calanchi”, and then on August 31st I’ll be at “Intersoup” in Berlin. I’m working on the new album, I already have the title and, even though it sounds like a maritime title, it has nothing to do with the sea. It’s about our warmth, the warmth we carry inside us.
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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Matteo Meda, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.
| Il pozzo d'amor (Self-released, 2010) | 6.5 | |
| The house on the moon (Bruno Bavota Ensemble, Lizard, 2013) | 6.5 | |
| The Secret Of The Sea (Psychonavigation, 2014) | 7 | |
| Mediterraneo (Dronarivm, 2015) | 7.5 | |
| Out Of The Blue (Sono Luminus, 2016) | 7 | |
| Get Lost (Temporary Residence, 2019) | 7.5 | |
| For Apartments: Songs & Loops (Temporary Residence, 2021) | 6.5 | |
| BRUNO BAVOTA & CHANTAL ACDA | ||
| A Closer Distance (Temporary Residence, 2022) | 7.5 |