Franco Battiato - Escaping the Rules of the Universe

"Hello, this is Franco Battiato, I'm calling for the interview". It really happens, and it's enough to leave you stunned with emotion. Once that initial little shock wears off, there follow almost 45 minutes of conversation, in which the Sicilian composer dispenses reflections, irony and good humour, confirming a newfound serenity. "A stable precariousness" rather than a "permanent centre of gravity", as he was keen to point out. The fact remains that the Battiato of the 2000s has undergone a transformation that has led him to seek greater contact with his audience. And the response has come with the success of his latest tours and most recent works, bolstered too by the presence of exceptional guests, such as Natacha Atlas and Jim Kerr (Simple Minds), on "Ferro Battuto". And the audience also particularly appreciated his digression into "Fleurs", his first covers album. "An idea born in Spain, in some opera houses where I did recitals," he recounts. "Since these were traditional theatres, I thought I'd do a sort of light art-song recital, with a programme split into two parts, featuring everything on the record (except the two De André covers). After a while, having seen how various audiences reacted, I told myself that maybe I could manage to document this little story. Actually, though, the first idea came about in Sicily, during the first Catania summer festival I was directing: both the mayor and the culture councillor absolutely insisted that I do a concert; I didn't want to, they kept insisting, until I said: I'll sing three or four songs that aren't mine. I performed four songs, including "La canzone dei vecchi amanti". In Spain I transferred this idea: ten songs instead of four, and the concert split into two halves. That's how the idea behind Fleurs came about".

On that record there are also two very "heartfelt" covers of two De André classics. What did De André represent for Italian singer-songwriter music?

I think that especially for "La canzone dell'amore perduto" I came up with a good arrangement. I was a listener of Fabrizio's; in the Sixties, in my room, I used to listen to his ballads, which had a flavour of novelty. I remember him with the affection of one of his listeners, more than as a colleague.

And the tribute project to Robert Wyatt?

Robert Wyatt in the Seventies was a contemporary of ours, he was one of us. We each tried to do our own experimenting; some in Italy, some in Germany, some in France, some in Great Britain. We were all part of the same movement, which was then called "kosmische musik" or "progressive" depending on the country. We were all caught up in that frenzy of newness that swept over us. Mine was a small tribute to a great artist who is often underrated.

You said you wanted to "get up off the carpet", to try to reach a wider audience. What did you mean by that?

To sing certain kinds of songs you have to be standing up, to sing others you have to be sitting down… And I like to change things up, I don't worry about being faithful to myself. Anyway, even when I'm sitting down I feel comfortable, and to sing a certain kind of song I use my hands more than my body.

Speaking of the relationship with the audience, has anything changed today in the figure of the singer-songwriter? They used to be shut away in their own hermitage, isolated from the media, expressing themselves only through records - is that still possible today?

No, today the market is absolutely ruthless. What happens is that if someone stays out of the picture, they're really "out", in a way they don't exist. I don't worry about it, because fortunately I could do without this job today. I like doing it, I keep going, but I'm always on my guard. I can even allow myself the luxury, on my next record, who knows, of doing something terrible…

Your partnership with professor Sgalambro has now been going on for six years. In what way have Sgalambro's lyrics changed Battiato the musician?

Now we have a rapport that wasn't there before. I think you can see it on stage too, in the concerts. I've always written my own lyrics, I've always been a so-called 'singer-songwriter' — for many songs I actually wrote the lyrics first and set them to music afterwards. Now I've closed that chapter. I don't like repeating myself, and the same goes for that parallel music I make which we might call classical: I wrote a Messa Arcaica which for me remains a peak of my output, but I'm not going to go and make a second mass. I have to deal with other messages and other material. Sgalambro's arrival made me reckon with a prose that might seem less natural to you than your own, but at the same time it gave me a different approach to my work and made me overcome new problems in musical writing.

The search for the sacred has always been one of the main themes of your work. In one song you even said “I try to chase the sacred while I sleep”. Can you tell us where this search has brought you?

I have thirty years of meditation behind me, so I suppose I could call myself a 'professional' of sorts… And I couldn't live without it anymore. Wherever I live, I feel the need to withdraw. I do it twice a day, like the ancient Egyptians: I withdraw at dusk and in the morning before breakfast, after my morning ablutions… The flavour of this metaphysical dimension (which for me is actually physical) has never changed, from the early days to now — the techniques have changed, but the flavour stays identical.

A search that, however, doesn't align with faith in any existing religion…

The religious attitude is the first stage of a search for the sacred; otherwise you can't enter those zones, you have to leave a bit of ballast behind, so to speak.

So, in short, a “universal religion”…

Absolutely yes. Parish churches have always scared me. I love true mystics, not bureaucrats. And all things considered, a great mystic of Western monasticism is close to a Buddhist monk — actually, they're identical.

Some time ago you said you dreamed of “the end of the Western world”. What should be buried? And is there anything worth saving instead?

The Western world has made exceptional strides in science and technology. From that point of view, the West is untouchable. Somewhat less so for what it has shown on the surface: it has no patience, no dedication, no wish to study, it aims to cheat others. All our specialities. The problem is that by now we've infected the whole world…

Right, patience and slowness. Two other fundamental themes of your work. But is it possible to “slow life down”, even for someone who does your job?

That's how I live. Even when I'm on the road I rarely chase after time. There's the exhaustion of a tour, when you travel three hundred kilometres a day. I can't underestimate that. But for that half hour when I withdraw, I find my world again.

A world made above all of silence, as you reaffirm in songs like “Un'altra vita” and “Un Oceano di silenzio”…

Indeed, silence for me is like oxygen: it's life.

You were one of the first to speak of the commercialization of religion, foreseeing the arrival of “Buddhas on nightstands” or “open phone-ins about the Pope's hair” (“Magic Shop”, 1980). Is there a risk today of a supermarket of spirituality, with New Age and similar phenomena?

God, how depressing… Generally I'm not interested in 'phenomena'. Just as I'm not interested in the Catholic movement, I'm not interested in the New Age one. I like talking with a Catholic, with a Buddhist. But what is Buddhism, really? Good luck figuring that out with everything that's been written about it…. Buddha left behind only oral tradition. And it's much the same with Christ. The exploitation of spirituality is a problem for whoever does the exploiting. I remember an episode from my childhood: my father, in the piazza, was approached by a friend who said to him: “I saw Father whatshisname eating meat on a Friday, and I'm supposed to believe in God?”. Can faith really be reduced to that? Everyone has to walk their own path, others will do as they please. Just as I don't go to church because that liturgy doesn't appeal to me, but I can't go around like Savonarola telling people 'you'll go to hell'…

What's left of the experience with Baghdad, after that historic concert on Iraqi soil?

We left an indelible mark on their world. Until recently, kids in school were still listening to cassette tapes of my music, studying my songs. Then there was a deeply moving human bond, which I've tried to keep alive over the years working with organizations like "Un ponte per Baghdad" ("A Bridge for Baghdad"). But of course the interests you have to reckon with were enormous. We brought some children to the hospital in Parma, small gestures, when behind the scenes there are giants with a vested interest in keeping certain situations exactly as they are. They're the ones who start wars.

Did you ever fear being used as a propaganda tool by the Iraqi regime?

No, I never cared about that at all. After all, people would tell me "go to the devil", and I'd answer, "why, is this paradise?"

You've recently collaborated with Csi, Bluvertigo and other emerging Italian musicians. Do you feel Italian singer-songwriter music has grown in recent times?

Yes, and quite significantly too. I've heard several interesting bands, plenty of young artists making their way. There's more room now, the audience has broadened, and the Italian music scene itself has become more complex. Bands that couldn't even have dreamed of cracking the top fifty two or three years ago are now charting!

Do you still have ties with Italian theatres and cultural festivals? How do you view that experience?

I see it as a kind of "service", which for me is above all a pleasure, and here and there it manages to produce meaningful results. We've hosted the likes of Sakamoto and David Byrne. And for Bjork, again in Fano, people came from all over the world…

In "Shock In My Town", one of your more recent tracks, the words "Velvet Underground" kept coming up. Just a fun refrain, or a tribute to a legendary band?

A bit of both, really — it was actually a hallucinatory piece, a kind of urban delirium. Anyway, I can say I've met some of the musicians from Velvet Underground. In 1975 I toured France with Nico and John Cale (the former Velvet Underground singer and one of the band's key musicians, ed.). There was a lot of tension between the two of them, because John Cale was jealous of Nico, who was the crowd's darling. And she had serious drug problems on top of that. The first time I met her, she asked me if I'd seen "mister powder". "Who's that?", I naively asked. She made an unmistakable gesture, sniffing through her nose… "No, I don't have any", I replied… Then once, at the legendary Bataclan in Paris, Nico was putting on her makeup. I whispered: "Damn, but she's fifty years old!". She looked at me in the mirror and said: "Actually, a bit less than that"… I froze. Then she explained she'd spent two years in Rome and understood Italian perfectly well.

One last question: will you ever sing with Alice again?

Not for now, I don't think so, but you never know…

(April 2001)

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