Diodato - Making noise his own way

Rock songs and vintage identity

Eclectic, measured, composed and undoubtedly humble. A handful of adjectives would suffice to describe Antonio Diodato, singer-songwriter and much more, who with “Cosa siamo diventati” adds yet another little gem to his discography. Born in Aosta but of Apulian origin, the artist can boast an interesting career, which began last decade all the way in Stockholm, working alongside Steve Angello and Sebastian Ingrosso (future Swedish House Mafia), before returning home and veering toward entirely different sounds with a self-produced EP and a 2013 debut titled “And maybe I'm crazy”. From there began Diodato's gradual rise, which, via a well-received and successful cover of Fabrizio De André's “Amore che vieni, amore che vai” and a well-earned second place in the Sanremo Festival's "Nuove Proposte" (New Talent) section, has now led him in 2017 to an album of new material, proving he has independently built himself a refined artistic identity, straddling the border between international rock and Italian pop. During the interview he showed himself to be, besides a careful writer of his own lyrics, a shrewd observer of the dynamics of the record industry and show business, able to look beyond any genre label.

If I'm not mistaken, 2017 marks ten years of your career. Talking about “Cosa siamo diventati“, I'd like to hear from you what's happened in these ten years. What were the moments when you realized your career was heading in certain directions?

Actually, the most important moments were meeting the musicians, especially the ones I work with now. I'll name them too: Daniele Fiaschi on guitars, Alessandro Pizzonia on drums, Danilo Bigioni on bass, Duilio Galioto on piano and keyboards. Meeting them was crucial, because I grew up listening a lot to international bands, and I wanted my music to sound more like a band's than a solo artist's. It took me a while to find the right people, but once I met them, I always wanted to keep working with them. Another important moment was a live show at a small club in Rome where I met Daniele "Mafio" Tortora, the artistic producer of all my work. Out of these encounters grew what I consider my "musical family." Then came "And maybe I'm crazy," for which Daniele actually created a label, and we threw ourselves into the unknown together; a lot happened from there. That's how the collaboration with Lucchetti came about for his film “Anni felici”, along with the De André cover, opening for Daniele Silvestri's concert in Rome, and, around the same time, the Artist of the Year Award in Bari, right up to the Sanremo Festival. It all happened very quickly. Then came the collaboration with the TV show "Che Tempo Che Fa," and so, so many collaborations: Roberto Dell'Era, Manuel Agnelli and many others.

Great summary! Now let's get to your new album. How did “Cosa siamo diventati” come together, and why such an introspective record?

It was born out of the need to tell something I had personally experienced, which is also why it's so intimate. So, I wanted the sounds to be intimate too, able to evoke what the lyrics were telling. I wanted them to create genuine images in the listener's mind. We worked hard in that direction. Since it's an album born from personal experiences, I tried to be as honest as possible in telling them. Much like when I showed up at the Sanremo Festival with an equally intimate song, I thought I was doing something that would set me apart from everyone else, but instead you find yourself being understood by whoever's listening. The same thing happened, even more so, with this album.

I found the lyrics on this album, particularly the verses of "Colpevoli" or "Paralisi," written with enormous attention to rhyme, to poetics, to the sound of words. Without taking anything away from the other tracks, even in just a few words you manage to strike a great balance between verse and music. Tell me a bit about how you write a lyric and how you developed such a literary style.

Look, that question really hits the mark, because I worked incredibly hard on this album. I did it because I wanted a certain precision to come through; in fact, I often found myself working to cut things out, otherwise you fall into certain traps of the craft, which you probably create for yourself as a form of self-protection. On an album like this, for instance, where you're telling very personal things, you try not to dwell too long as a way of protecting yourself. I tried to reconnect as much as possible with that emotional core that had driven me to write this record. That's why, this time around, I really worked hard on the lyrics; with some of them I even had fun — you mentioned "Paralisi," where I enjoy playing with words, like the assonance between the words "fermo" and "inferno."

Indeed, when an artist positions himself halfway between alternative rock and singer-songwriter territory, there's always this dilemma between giving priority to the sound or to the lyrics…

In the past, I have to say I leaned a lot toward the sound. But now I've felt the need to carry both forward together, so I probably had a very strong expressive need. I wanted to say things the right way, in a way I could still recognize as mine later on; sometimes you write songs and you settle for them, and then, singing them over and over, you notice all the places where you could have expressed the content better or been more honest with yourself. On this album I tried to be exactly that, so that I could reconnect with the words every time I sing them. I wanted both the lyrics and the music to be given their due.

Do you feel more like an artist who tells stories, or one who tells about himself?

Honestly, I think I tell about myself even when I'm telling stories. Even when I'm not the protagonist, I still feel every time that I want to give weight to my own perspective. Take a song like "Guai," which isn't about me personally, yet I recognize myself a lot in that kind of writing. Or take my version of De André's "Amore che vieni, amore che vai," the album “A ritrovar bellezza”: those are covers, and yet I think it's always important to put yourself into what you do.

Let's get to your sound. When I listen to "La verità," I hear a deep rock charge. But it's a rock that has to lie down alongside the words, so I wonder how you relate to this genre? What are your reference points when you want to give a track some drive?

I've listened to a huge amount of rock, it's been running through my veins since I was a kid. Although I have to admit that this energy comes out more in live shows, where the band and I are freer. It's absolutely a side of myself that I want to bring out in the records too, and I pay particular attention to it. My reference listening is somewhat classic, from Led Zeppelin, who left a huge mark on me as a kid, through to britpop, which I also love a great deal. Only later did I devote myself more to Italian music, but in the past I listened to a lot of rock, especially from England. British music has this attention to sonic identity. When I said earlier that I looked for the right musicians, that's what I meant — reaching for something similar.

On this latest record I've noticed sounds that are less vintage and more modern. Since your tribute to the artists of the past was central to “A ritrovar bellezza”, does this mark a move beyond that kind of work, or do you feel that “Cosa siamo diventati” is also, in some way, a tribute to Italian song?

In my view, I made a record like “A ritrovar bellezza” to try to let myself be influenced by the greatness of those songs. In fact, there's something of what I learned present in “Cosa siamo diventati”. When you put your hands on those masterpieces, you understand a lot of things. In my opinion, there's something here too that connects to that world. It's no coincidence that we chose to open with “Mi si scioglie la bocca”, the first single, a track with tones that nod to 1960s Italian music. Then, obviously, the sounds I try to use also draw on the possibilities we have today, so there was truly obsessive care taken to achieve certain results. There's definitely also a nod to Italian popular music of the past, but I feel like a citizen of 2017, and in future works I intend to experiment as much as possible.

I sensed a strong connection to Radiohead in some tracks, particularly in “Fiori immaginari”. Am I right?

Yes, absolutely! As a kid I listened to them a lot. They were among my favorites, along with Verve and Blur. They influenced me enormously.

I recall you also worked on the soundtrack for “Anni felici” with that monolithic version of “Amore che vieni, amore che vai”. Why did you choose that song? How did it feel to engage with De André's words?

I was the one who chose it! I already loved that song a great deal. Then I started playing it around a bit, just for fun, guitar and voice, and I felt those words were very much my own. What convinced me to choose it was the way I started singing it, because my voice is very different from De André's, and I liked how far I ended up straying from the original. When we rehearsed it with the band, a pretty rock arrangement came out of it, and playing it live, the audience's reactions were “significant” (laughs). When it came time to record the album, we immediately agreed to include it. It was the first time I felt someone else's words were my own, and that with those words I could still tell something about myself. That's what completely won me over. On the other hand, it's also a tribute to a true great.

If I'm not mistaken, your reinterpretation of De André dates back to 2013. So, by the time you approached the work on “A ritrovar bellezza” you'd already built up experience in that kind of cover.

Certainly, I agreed to do “A ritrovar bellezza” partly because I already had the positive experience of the De André cover behind me. So I didn't overthink it too much — when you've touched De André, in theory, you can also dare to try reinterpreting songs by Modugno, Lauzi and others. I wasn't scared at all.

Which literary authors have most inspired your work?

Look, I'd say Marquez, I'd say Montale, Levi. I love reading enormously, but I have to admit it's rare for me to write something inspired by specific readings. On this latest record, for example, I was reading Calvino's “Fiabe italiane”, and out of that story and that kind of storytelling came a reflection that pushed me to write “Guai”. Baudelaire definitely struck me like lightning when I was younger too.

The classic “Fleurs Du Mal” under the arm of every future artist! Having worked both alongside a figure from independent music like Roberto Dell’Era and with public television on the Sanremo front, do you feel a divide between these two worlds?

I only believe in good music and bad music, that's the only divide I see. I don't like the discourse around independent music, which lately is also proving to be very mainstream, and as you can see, nobody from so-called independent music backs away or avoids certain things when faced with certain results. That's how it should be, and there shouldn't be these barriers. Unfortunately, in Italy people still think in terms of sectors and try to divide the music scene into targets. When I met Manuel Agnelli and we worked together, I found someone with a surprising open-mindedness, which I wasn't expecting. Just as surprising was getting to know Daniele Silvestri and noticing how alike the two of them actually are. Two artists coming from completely different worlds, yet so similar. So, I avoid drawing lines between genres and sectors. I'll fight for every wall of that kind to come down.

Looking ahead, do you feel more drawn to pursuing your own independent path, or would you like to try Sanremo again?

I'll go my own way. I definitely see the Sanremo Festival as a great opportunity to reach a large audience, but I don't consider it essential. It was important, but I feel it as part of a journey. I see it as neither my starting point nor my destination. I was already coming from a long road made up of small successes, and I'll keep going my own way now just the same. Then, if an offer comes along, you always weigh up whether taking part is consistent with who you are.

(23 April 2017)