Fabrizio Testa - Romagna Riddles in Lo-Fi

Fabrizio Testa is a Milanese musician active since 2010, devoted to various projects ranging from eccentric lo-fi folk balladry, to sound research on the fringes of the avant-garde, to a knack for portraying himself both through the melancholy, half-abandoned landscapes of the Romagna coastline in winter and through a sense of decay that pervades much of his work, particularly the little piano gem of "Music For Adriatic Colonies". In 2018 he wrapped up the two tetralogies that have occupied his career so far; the one under his own name — with more experimental leanings — closes with "Rebus", while the one belonging to his Chandlerian Romagnol "alter ego" The Long Goodbye, closes with "Tutti nuotammo a stento".

In 2018 you released two albums in short succession, one under your own name, the other as Lungo Addio. In both cases, you're closing a tetralogy that began — in the first case — with "Mastice" (2013), "Morire" (2014) and "Bestiario" (2015), and with "Disperate abitudini" (2013), "Pinarella Blues" (2014) and "Fuori stagione" (2016) in the second. Is there a common thread running through each of these tetralogies?

Actually, I'd never thought about it. That's a nice interpretation of yours. In the first case, I agree with you. "Rebus" definitively closes a body of work that began with "Mastice" and continued with "Morire" and "Bestiario". If I were ever to make another album under my own name, the intentions would be completely different. Il Lungo Addio, on the other hand, isn't a trilogy but simply different albums that continue the project's journey through lo-fi folk-pop.

In your project you chose the name Lungo Addio with a clear reference to the Raymond Chandler novel, one of the leading authors of hard-boiled fiction, that tough strain of crime writing made up of losing antiheroes, defeated men who find their identity in commitment and sheer force of will. Are you fascinated by characters like Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade or Mike Hammer?

Exactly. Losing, lost characters, on the edge, with no destination and no way out have always won me over. Maybe because I too, due to various circumstances, feel a bit like that myself. But the beauty of these characters is that they never give up. Like a boxer in the ring. They get back up, staggering, waiting for the final round.

Why did you find the Romagna coastline the right place for Il Lungo Addio? In an interview with Rumore you even called it a state of mind.

It's hard to answer that question. Let's say I've always been a melancholic kid who happened to spend the carefree years of my youth on that coast, living it with a bitter aftertaste. Maybe today I'm more grounded than I used to be, but the "state of mind" that ran through me back then has stayed etched in my skin. That's why that stretch of coast is so important and decisive for the development of the project.

In "Rebus", though, you don't sing but instead give space to a long list of musicians. Why that choice?

Mainly to distance myself from what such a project could otherwise have looked like. I've been lucky enough to listen to a huge amount of different music. From rock to jazz, through classical and experimental music. My solo records are a blend of these sonic experiences, which I decided to share with many musicians I admire and respect. I feel more like a director, a conductor guiding others toward a result that's always different.

On "Rebus" there are tracks that are very different from one another, one folk-blues, others more experimental. Is there something that ties them together?

Well, I think the common thread is probably the use of friends and collaborators. Together, even if working in separate places, we try to create real "acts" in music. A kind of song-theatre that crosses over into different genres.

Would you describe your music as sad and melancholic, like the phrase "winter sea" itself? How much does that really reflect who you are?

Yes, my music is melancholic, but I wouldn't call it sad. Melancholy is a feeling that belongs to me. I've always been a cheerful melancholic. A positive person who every now and then, sometimes often, gets cut through by streaks of melancholy. Either way, the songs I write act as therapy and represent me about 90% of the time.

Today we're bombarded by a thousand stimuli, living in a kind of "infosphere" where at times we seem to be more on the receiving end of this excess of information. Music is practically everywhere, and every year thousands and thousands of albums are released. At this point, what can rock, or youth music in general, represent today? Is that strange character Young Signorino more "rock", for instance, or a well-established band that's been making the same music for 30 years?

I don't much appreciate this bombardment. And that's not just a 20th-century way of thinking. Let's say this way of producing and releasing music, as happens today, has created a glitch in people's heads. Very young people don't "listen" to music anymore. They pass through it. And passing through often also means "forgetting". To answer your second question: if a band that's been playing for thirty years has become a joke of itself, then yes, Young Signorino is more punk. Certainly more current and immediate.

Do you see anything positive in today's Italian rap or trap scene?

All music, except the most mainstream pop, is born out of subcultures. Ways of life, rebellion, hardship, different economic conditions. And all of that is fascinating. The fact that someone manages to put their own hardship into music and sing it in a way that reaches people is already an achievement. And over the years that's happened first with rap and now with trap. That's the positive way of looking at this reality. But then there are the record labels, the money, the weight of success, which always end up ruining everything. We'll see what happens.

How important is cinema, one of your great passions, to your music?

Cinema is a passion I developed long before music. I was a precocious kid. When other children were still watching cartoons, I'd already seen quite a few cult films. As with music, I love the most disparate genres, from art-house films to the great classics, through B-movies and genre films. I think you can feel a lot of film running through my music. But you have to be an expert to catch all the references.

You live in Milan but you've traveled a lot, even living in Paris. How do you find Milan's cultural life compared to other countries?

Milan is a questionable city in quite a few respects. It's too expensive and jobs are increasingly scarce. Rents are sky-high, and year after year it's becoming as unaffordable as London or Paris. Cultural life, though, is lively and interesting. Every day you can find concerts, exhibitions, film series and so on going on around town. So I have to say I'm happy living here, especially for that reason. But then I was born here, so I'm probably a bit biased.

You wrote a book but never published it - will you publish it one day?

We'll see. Right now I'd rather focus on music.

I know you listen to a huge amount of music and watch a huge number of films. Can you give us a few titles you could never do without?

I think that's extremely hard, if not impossible. But I'll give it a try anyway. As far as music goes: "The Night" by Morphine; "Os Dias da MadreDeus" by Madredeus; "I'm Your Man" by Leonard Cohen. As for film, I'd say: "Paris, Texas" by Wim Wenders, "The Deer Hunter" by Michael Cimino, and "The Overtake" by Dino Risi.

In your view, who today embodies the most authentic spirit of rock or popular music, and why?

Probably Eddie Vedder, because after Springsteen, I consider him a great popular rockstar.

Your two 2018 albums close out two tetralogies. Does that mean you'll be switching to different kinds of projects from now on, or taking a long break? 

As far as projects under my own name go, a break is definitely in order. I feel like I've exhausted that path, and if there are ever more entries, they'll certainly come in the distant future. As for Lungo Addio, though, which feels closer to my sensibility and sense of immediacy, a single is coming out soon along with its first official video. A song that won't be included on any album. Then we'll see what the next urge turns out to be, though, to put it as Cioran did, "within every desire a monk and a butcher are at war."

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