Brunori Sas - La rivincita dei Poor bastards

interview by Giuliano Delli Paoli, Giovanni Dozzini

The revenge of the Poor bastards

It all happened very quickly. An album born as little more than a lark, the first positive responses, the shows growing more frequent and better attended. Sales too, doing just fine, because reaching seven thousand copies, for the debut of a singer-songwriter already sporting a few grey hairs and an imagination still stuck in the years of beach guitar sing-alongs and deflated orange beach balls, released moreover by a label that's on the rise but still, all things considered, finding its feet - well, these days that's no small feat. Almost exactly two years after the release of the acclaimed "Vol. I", two years spent almost entirely playing shows up and down Italy, the second chapter in the discography of Dario Brunori and his limited partnership found itself facing considerable expectations. Expectations amply met, as you can read elsewhere. This "Vol. II", on which Brunori and Pippola Music's trusted boss Matteo Zanobini chose to stamp the Picicca Dischi imprint - the factory the singer himself runs in his native Cosenza - carries a title that is a statement of intent in itself, one that grows more meaningful track by track. Brunori's "Poor bastards" ["poor wretches"] are the characters who populate these new songs, which for a while push nostalgia and self-portraiture into a corner and take up all, or nearly all, of the spotlight.

"It's not that I sat down to write with the deliberate intention of telling one story rather than another", he says. "The songs came to me spontaneously, naturally, just as they had with the old ones. Undoubtedly, what influenced this creative process was my desire not to repeat myself, to talk about something else, and in a different language. I felt that the conversation started by 'Vol. I' had run its course. As for the tracks, I wrote them in a very short period. When I finished the tour, in December 2010, I had a few drafts, then I wrote everything between January and February. At that point I had sixteen or seventeen demos, Matteo and I sat down and did some winnowing, down to the ten definitive tracks that ended up on 'Poor bastards'. Now, obviously I didn't want to make a concept album, but I like the idea of a record having a common thread running through it. And we found it precisely in this gathering of characters. Then there was a demanding amount of formal work, more complex than usual. I took it upon myself to cover a lot of roles: I sang, played the instruments I know how to play, recorded the album myself, produced it together with Zanobini. More careful work, with richer arrangements. There's a string quartet here and there, and even a horn section. But in any case I didn't want a pretentious album, one that felt too distant from the previous one. In the end, I'm happy with the result".

Brunori Sas It seems at least a couple of potential hits were left out. Two very radio-friendly tracks. "That's just speculation", he laughs. "Among the demos there were tracks with more of a sing-along feel, but no, they just didn't fit. I love songs, I'm not afraid of choruses, far from it. It's not a matter of rejecting anything commercial: it's simply that what made it onto this record was whatever was in tune with the overall discourse. And besides, those tracks are still there, they can always be brought out again in future. When better times come around. Or worse ones, who knows".

The Sas story was a fun and winning move from a promotional standpoint. The fact remains that your band is what it is, and for now it stays that way. What's your take on it? Do you consider it an integral part of your project, or simply a group of musicians who play whatever you tell them to?

"At the moment the other members of the band are indispensable elements. Then again, it's clear that Brunori Sas is my solo project. I write all the songs, I'm egocentric and dictatorial, I think things are fairly clear within the group. But right now they're an incredible source of exchange for me, musically and personally, and as long as they're happy with the modest wages I grant them, I'll keep them around. No layoffs planned, let's say. In general I really like involving the people I feel most comfortable with in what I do. Always the same ones. A bit like Woody Allen, every film with the same crew".

And within this circle of people is also the one who's even listed on Facebook as your official girlfriend. Simona Marrazzo: backing vocals, curves and brains. As if the love songs to explain and justify - a burden that's fallen to every singer since the dawn of time - weren't enough, you also take her on tour with you. What does it mean to go on tour with your own girlfriend?

"What can I say. On the last tour we were the band that has known its fans in the biblical sense the least in the history of music. She's the one keeping watch, not just over me but over everyone else too. With that sheriff always around, there was nothing anyone could do. But hey, all things considered, I'm happy that way".

Then there's the song with Dente. Not a huge surprise, given the obvious affinities and recent history - him writing (well) about you in Il Fatto Quotidiano, the joint concert last summer at Circolo degli Artisti, mutual declarations of esteem of various kinds. But how did the track come about? Among other things, the opening of "Il suo sorriso" is identical to that of "Quel mazzolino" (a Dente song from "L'amore non è bello", ed.). Deliberately, one imagines.

"Actually, no. I hadn't even realized it. And he never mentioned it to me, maybe he thought it was meant as a tribute. I just hope he doesn't sue me, seeing as my signature is on file with Siae. As for the song, we didn't see much of each other, but it really was a great experience. I like Dente a lot. For his way of being and thinking, and of course for his music. The concert at Circolo degli Artisti went really well. Back then we'd said to each other that we'd like to do something together. And 'Il suo sorriso' seems perfect to me: it sums up our shared musical world, there's a lot of irony, this taste for divertissement, and then all these Battisti-esque echoes. I really like guest appearances, but not just for the sake of it. If you bring in another musician to collaborate with you, it has to serve a purpose, it has to fit fully within the idea. The same goes for Antonio Di Martino, of Dimartino, who sang on 'Animal colletti'. I'd heard the band live once, and I thought they were fantastic. Antonio was perfect for that track. Incidentally, they're on Pippola too, so it was an easy match".

One thinks of Brunori Sas and tells oneself that he has everything it takes to become a genuine pop phenomenon. Quality pop, but massively pop. Yet how does one manage that today? Once upon a time the talented ones found a way sooner or later. De Gregori, Dalla, Vecchioni, with a solid record industry, less homogenized media, eventually broke through. But now?

"It's a question pretty much everyone asks themselves. We're on a path you could quite safely call pop, and we like to keep expanding our audience more and more. In my view, it simply takes patience, giving yourself time. To tell the truth, things happened to me at an incredible speed, and I think taking it gradually now would only do me good. The ideal destination, so to speak, is without doubt Sanremo, but you need to get there with broad enough shoulders. I've already found myself a bit out of my depth in situations that felt bigger than me. Like at Italy Wave: on that huge stage, it was an alienating feeling. Today, sure, there's much less room than there used to be for quality pop: not on TV, not on the major radio stations. But even if labels no longer invest for the long term the way they might once have, I think there's some way to make it work. Word of mouth, first of all, which thanks to the web travels faster than it used to. And then by playing live. I've noticed that when audiences come into contact with certain things, they don't stay indifferent. In certain settings where we didn't just have an indie crowd in front of us, I realized that other people, the ones who maybe had never even heard of us, really appreciated it. And perhaps, being used to homogenized musical products, they saw us as even more original than we actually are. It's hard to reach the masses, yes, but not impossible".

(20/06/2011)

***

A Bonfire Never Put Out

by Giuliano Delli Paoli

We meet Dario Brunori, the "majority shareholder" of the small musical enterprise (as he likes to call it) Brunori Sas, fresh off winning the prestigious Premio Ciampi 2009 with the album "Vol.Uno", awarded best debut album. A true son of Cosenza, yet another Italian talent tossed by the ever-lively Pippola Music into the Italian indie melting pot (following the likes of Fitness Forever, Superpartner, Annie Hall, and the new star of indie-pop by way of European vaudeville, Beatrice Antolini), Brunori lays bare, with unusual irony, the fragilities and dramas of today's thirty-somethings, caught between monthly bills and memories of an adolescence growing ever more distant.

A failed entrepreneur and Italy's newest crooner. Is there more regret or relief in that statement?

Both: regret, because as an entrepreneur I definitely earned more and could write off travel expenses; relief, because now I can whistle my way through the miserable consequences of the ongoing economic crisis.

"Vol. Uno" is a record anchored both in memory and in the need to escape, through those very memories, a society changing at breakneck speed - tremendously different from the past of today's thirty-somethings, who grew up with deflated orange footballs and Eighties tin cans. Indeed, your songwriting is often gripped by today's economic and social dramas. So, in "Come stai" you sing: ⟦Q1⟧.

But is it really that hard today? What do you expect from the future (both musically and personally)? How far is today's Italy from the romantic, genuine one of "Guardia 82"?

In 1982 I was 5 years old, so all I can have of that Italy is a vague memory, one softened by time, at that. Obviously, looking back at those days, flipping through a photo album, you immediately realize things had a different flavor back then. The album as a whole looks backward, but, as I've already said in other contexts, not as an escape from the present - rather as a reference point, so as not to lose sight of the things that truly matter. Today it's hard because essential things like jobs and housing are increasingly out of reach. And it's just as hard to tackle "big" themes and talk about the future when even the most basic freedoms are being called into question. Personally, I'm trying to create conditions so that all my projects, musical and otherwise, are sustainable for me and for everyone involved. It's the only way to keep producing something without being drowned by end-of-month deadlines. Besides Brunori Sas, back home in Cosenza I'm already trying to build a network and to take part in and promote other artists' and industry people's initiatives, to help push local music forward and shrink the natural distance from "the scene that matters".

In "Italian dandy" there's a nice little dig at Baustelle. Apparently, robbing the Esselunga is all the rage these days…

It's a song that's also a bit of a mockery, not aimed directly at any one artist in particular, but rather at the imagery conjured up by certain songs or films. As a kid it struck me deeply, and I used to fantasize about that poetic, unconstrained life, one so far removed from my everyday world: the idea of a dandy dropped into the Cosenza countryside, with his cynical irony and his relentless pragmatism, still makes me smile.

Pertini, Bearzot, Edwige Fenech, Novella 2000… And tomorrow, as sixty-somethings, what will we be talking about?

The weather, the price of vegetables, and how kids these days have no values left. About children who no longer listen to us, and about our creeping arthritis. And before going to sleep we'll remember our best days, leaving a fake smile in a glass of water on the nightstand.

This past decade has seen a wide gap open up in Italy between "mainstream" singer-songwriters and the fleeting flashes-in-the-pan so trendy on blogs and Myspace. Worthy singer-songwriters are often destined for an inglorious exit, caused by a collective near-total lack of sensitivity toward quality music. It's a problem that seems to affect other European countries less (France, the UK, Germany…), where there's greater appreciation and perhaps also a sharper musical curiosity. What is the average Italian listener missing? And in that sense, what's not working in our music industry (though I'd say the same about our film industry)?

It's a genuinely complex issue, and it would be reductive to try to settle it in a few lines. On one hand, it's a fact that there's a certain laziness on the listener's part, a laziness that translates into delegation: if you're not the one choosing what you want to listen to, someone else will choose for you. And obviously the choices made by the big radio and TV networks are based mostly on logics that have little to do with artistic quality. On the other hand, we need to be aware that bringing quality work to the public's attention requires a greater effort, and above all a belief that in the long run it will pay off. There are exemplary stories in this sense - just think of figures like Vincenzo Micocci, who can serve as a reference for understanding that some things need to be pushed hard enough to break down the audience's natural wall of distraction.

In your record it's simplicity that stirs the strings and sets the voice alight, amid paybacks, muted resentments, and nostalgic references. How much did your real life and your own memories shape the writing of each song?

Completely. I'm convinced that to come across as authentic you need to communicate what you truly know and have lived, even if not necessarily firsthand. In that sense, let me quote the great Botero, whom I love, among other things, because he found beauty in rounded forms: he used to say, "You have to describe something very local, very specific, something you know inside out, in order to be understood by everyone. I've come to believe that I need to be parochial - in the sense of being deeply, almost religiously tied to my own reality - in order to be universal."

In Blume you played alongside Francesca Storai and Matteo Zanobini. What really changes when making a record as a solo artist? How useful was your experience with Blume? In what way did it truly shape you?

My experience with Blume represents, for me, the starting point of a more “professional” view of being a musician, if you will. It was in that context that I learned the importance of artistic production, the details that make the difference, and the fundamental role played by everyone who collaborates on a project. A “solo” record is never really solo in the broadest sense. That's why I liked the idea of a partnership, because while it's true that I'm the one putting my face on it, it's just as true that nothing gets created without a solid collective behind it. Among other things, Blume also featured Matteo Zanobini, label manager at Pippola Music and producer of the record, as well as a trusted friend. Some say he's the new Micocci of Italian music.

What are you listening to lately (not just Italian artists)? Do you think there's still anyone in Italy capable of revolutionizing our songwriting in some way? What do you think of the likes of Capossela, Bersani (even though they're tremendously different)?

I listen to a lot of very different things, and they don't always overlap. If we're talking about song form and/or Italian artists, I've listened to and still listen to a lot of Dente, Bob Corn, Baustelle and A Toys Orchestra, but also Ettore Giuradei, Uochi Toki and Amy Can Be. And then, in the Pippola Music catalogue, there's an embarrassment of riches to choose from - I really love the label's slogan, "la nuova musica leggera" ("the new light music"), because I like that it gets across, even among the connoisseurs, the message that lightness doesn't necessarily mean frivolity or banality. To me, that's already a revolution of sorts, not so much in terms of innovation, but in the possibility that the independent music world can put out material that's also digestible for a wider audience. As for Bersani, all I can say is that I've loved some of his songs - I think he's written some quality "evergreens", and that's no small thing, even though I have some reservations about the productions and the sound, which always feels a bit too polished. With Capossela I have a strange relationship: he fascinates me and sweeps me away, but at the same time he doesn't fully move me. I don't know how to put it - it's as if everything stays on a very cerebral level even when it should hit me in the heart. It's like watching an actor rather than a poet. Obviously that's just how it is for me. I completely understand people who adore him and hail him as a miracle, because he really is one of the most relevant and complete artists the Italian music scene has produced in recent years.

How much does it matter to you to interact with your audience during a performance?

A lot, an enormous amount. A big part of how well a show goes depends on the audience's response, on the energy that comes back to you. Although I admit it's not always easy to get a read on the room. Irony often turns out to be a winning move, partly because it narrows the distance and creates the best conditions for communication. In some cases, though, it's best to ration the jokes so as not to undercut the emotional side of things, which is crucial to a show working.

What do you remember listening to as a child/teenager? What did little Dario Brunori listen to, and when did he decide to start playing around bonfires?

As a small child, I listened to whatever my siblings (I'm the youngest of three) and my older cousins played me. So a lot of '80s stuff, and a huge, huge amount of Prince, from his early days right up to "Sign 'O' The Times". My parents loved Italian music a lot, with a particular fondness for "singles". I especially remember a collection of cassettes featuring the likes of De Gregori, Battisti, De André and Vecchioni. I think that's when I absorbed how important it is to be able to offer quality material that, at the same time, can reach people easily. I started playing guitar at 13, so from then on I listened to a lot of guitar-driven, hard-hitting stuff. Obviously, for evenings at the beach I always had my trusty "millenote" songbook, and I never turned down the chance to play Baglioni if there was even the slightest possibility of getting something out of it. Then came the Blume period, my electronic phase: Notwist, Lali Puna and the Warp and Morr Music stuff. It's only in the last few years that I've become aware of the importance of certain Italian singer-songwriter music, gems like Piero Ciampi or Sergio Endrigo, for instance, as well as the lesser-known records by the more celebrated names of Italian singer-songwriter music. As of about two days ago, I'm a fan of Robert Wyatt - sorry for the delay.

Brunori Sas won the 2009 Premio Ciampi for best debut. So what now? Have you ever thought about heading towards Sanremo territory?

Sanremo is my natural stage - everything that's happening these past few months is basically training for the big moment when I'll be tossing chocolate galatine sweets out to a delirious crowd. Actually, I've already got the song ready, so, just like with substitute teachers waiting for tenure, I'm just waiting to rack up enough points to move up the ranking and get a permanent spot.

Often it's the simple things that are the real joys in life. Football, a pizza with friends... Your songs, too, have a revitalizing simplicity to them. How much does "simplicity", "spontaneity" matter in your music?

Simplicity is the quality that fascinates me most in a work of art, whether it's a song, a film, a painting or a piece of writing. If you manage to say a lot with very little, you've achieved the greatest accomplishment there is.

Thank you for your time, and best of luck for the future.

Thank you for supporting this small venture, which also takes the opportunity to send its warmest regards to all of OndaRock's loyal readers...

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Giovanni Dozzini, 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.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition

Brunori SAS on OndaRock

Discography

Vol. Uno (Pippola, 2009)	7
Vol. 2 - Poveri Cristi (Picicca, 2011)	7.5
Has a star been born? (soundtrack, Picicca, 2012)	5
Vol. 3 - Il cammino di Santiago in taxi (Picicca, 2014)	6.5
A casa tutto bene (Picicca, 2017)	6.5
Cip! (Island, 2020)	7
Baby Cip! (Island, 2021)	6
L'albero delle noci (Island/Universal, 2025)	7