Gazebo Penguins - Meglio un giorno (e altri vent'anni) by Pinguini

Gazebo Penguins return with an album that is a journey into the mind, through neuroscience, memory and identity. In this long conversation, the band from Correggio tell us how “Storm” grew out of reflections on the brain, on perception and on human fragility, blending philosophy, rock and psychoanalysis. Having explored quantum physics on “Quanto”, they now ask themselves who we really are, where our consciousness resides, and what remains of us each day. With a freer production than in the past, thanks also to a studio (where we met them for this chat, in the middle of rehearsals for the tour setup) made available by the son of another rocker from Correggio, the one and only Ligabue, Gazebo Penguins were able to work at their own pace, experimenting with new sounds and vintage instruments, brass and keyboard drones. All with an ever-present eye on the live dimension, which remains central to their relationship with audiences, including the younger ones. An intense, sincere interview that reveals a powerful message, one that still leaves room for hope and breath: fragility unites us, and music is still a powerful way to tell that story.

In search of Gestalt

I'd like to start right from the latest album, from the idea of Gestalt. How did the need arise, even a poetic one, for an album centered on the analysis and definition of the self?

Every now and then we like to wander off into very broad themes. Thinking it over, we realized that if the previous album drew on quantum mechanics to tell the story of the world we live in - so the "where we are" - in this new chapter we've shifted to "who we are". That's where the desire came from to tell, in our own way, the story of the brain: a strange, deep and mysterious organ, which also tells us who we've been and who we might become. The whole discourse on memory and the perception of reality, and therefore on Gestalt, revolves around one question: are we something beyond our brain, or are we entirely contained within it? What happens when we no longer recognize ourselves, when we feel our consciousness is elsewhere? Where does our identity lie?

All these reflections, already present in the previous album, translate into writing that we might call "learned", literary, philosophical. Has this approach also influenced the music?

Yes, absolutely. The use of post-rock structures, brass with more refined harmonies, odd time signatures - all of this is part of a search we delved deeper into on this album. It feels like our approach to songwriting and arrangements reflects a more mature way of working. As far back as "Nebbia" (2017) we'd already started introducing, live, the use of a synthesizer, the Korg MS-10, which replaced the bass but with a different sound, also creating sonic beds, drones - what we call "pads". We started building songs starting from these drones, over which we'd then lay unconventional drum parts that nonetheless kept a certain rhythmic accessibility. "Storm", unlike our previous albums, was however born entirely in the studio, without rehearsal-room sessions. We had a beautiful studio at our disposal - the very one we're in right now - for a long stretch of time, and that let us experiment a great deal with production and writing. We were able to carry forward, refine and amplify the kind of work we'd started on our previous albums.

Tell us more about this studio. Is this the first time you've worked there?

Yes, for this album we were lucky enough to work in Ligabue's studio in Reggio Emilia, thanks to his son Lenny, who's a fan of ours and had come to see us at some dates on the previous tour. That's how the idea came about: "Why not record the new album there?". It turned out to be a real turning point. Now we're here setting up the live show.

New sounds and strange animals
 

How has your relationship with the audience at shows evolved over time? 

Well! After twenty years of playing, every so often you risk losing that drive. Instead, seeing the response from younger audiences during the "Quanto" tour - despite the album's complex themes - gave us a really strong urge to make a new album right away. "Nubifragio", for instance, even though it's not an easy song, went down really well. We notice it more at shows than from streaming numbers. As soon as it kicks in, the crowd recognizes it and goes wild. That's a strong signal for us. It's not a catchy track, it has a very long second part with no drums... and yet it's one of the most anticipated songs and will definitely be on the setlist for the upcoming dates.

Speaking of tracks with no drums. On the new album there's "Strani animali", which is a suspended track, with no beat. How did that idea come about?

It started out as a guitar-and-vocals idea from Capra. It's about hallucinations, about internal perceptions experienced as external. It's an "ambiguous" track: there's no drums, it breaks expectations, and in fact it's placed differently on vinyl, CD and streaming. Still, on a record that deals with mind, perception and identity, a track that represents a suspension, a fracture, a discontinuity carries weight wherever you place it. But there's something else worth mentioning. Recently we've started working on material for soundtracks, and that's opened up a whole new world for us, made of atmospheres, loops, suggestions. It's not impossible that it could play a role in possible future directions for Gazebo Penguins, but it's more likely to feed into a parallel compositional project of ours.

Your sound has changed over time. Do you feel pressure from fans who'd like you to get closer to the sound of your first albums?

Sometimes, yes, but a lot of people understand the evolution. It's normal to have listeners attached to the old sound, but there are others who discovered us from "Nebbia" onward. It happened to Fugazi too: the early records were one thing, the later ones another. It's nice to see the evolution. And besides, on the last record there are also tracks that hark back to our early sound, albeit revised and updated. In the end, everything comes full circle.

University courses and recursive choruses

Let's talk for a moment about the role Gabriele Malavasi, aka Capra, plays in the songwriting. Has it become more central over the last two records?

Yes, especially when it comes to the thematic ideas, even though as a band we always decide everything together. During the "Quanto" tour, we started talking about what the theme for a possible new record could be. At the time Capra was taking a philosophy course, convinced he'd be digging into quantum mechanics, and instead we found ourselves dealing with philosophy of mind, cognitive science, the relationship between mind and brain.

It seems to me that this link between the brain, fragility and identity also leads to a more "recursive" musical structure. The choruses, for instance, play a role they'd never had before in your music. Is that right?

Absolutely. The brain is built on recursion: signals that repeat themselves, and choruses stem from that same principle too. And curiously enough, some neuroscientific theories suggest that consciousness works according to principles of quantum mechanics. It's a minority hypothesis, but a fascinating one. And then there's also a message of empathy: our mind is capable of incredible things, but it rests on an extremely fragile structure, made of electrical impulses between neurons. Everything starts there. Playing these impulses, turning them into songs, is in a way a tribute to fragility, to sharing, to empathy.

Between the personal-political and musical influences

Can all this carry a political weight too? Fragility, in these times of rampant ableism, is really under attack...

Yes, perhaps hidden, but very much present. We hold an antifascist view of society, even if we don't always spell it out in the lyrics. The brain is the symbol of human complexity, of its greatness, but it's also our most fragile organ. A small trauma to the hippocampus and you can forget who you are. That should make us more empathetic, less racist, less selfish and closed-minded.

Let's talk about musical influences. One that comes to mind is post-rock and other kinds of sonic articulation that expand a track's structure, like kraut. Sometimes it's the circularity of the chords, other times the use of effected guitar, or the way the instruments build to a crescendo. Does that ring true?

Yes, that's a fair reading. Sollo worked for years with Giardini di Mirò and with Francesco Donadello, who today is a producer of international standing. Giardini di Mirò worked a lot with kraut sounds, with hammering rhythms. These are things that, even unconsciously, you find yourself bringing out during a creative process, and it's nice when that happens and it comes through in the listening.

And hip-hop? Aren't there influences from that quarter as well?

The way we think about rhythm is deeply influenced by hip-hop. We often start writing from the drums. Some beats on the record could easily bring to mind Limp Bizkit. If you listen closely, underneath certain tracks there's a crossover rhythm that, once it's wrapped in the surrounding sonic environment, might turn into something else, but that's the foundation it's built on.

How will you organize the live shows, now that there are horns and richer arrangements? Will anything change? 

Some dates will have horns – in Milan, for example, they'll definitely be there – but it won't be a fixed feature, since the musicians involved are often on tour elsewhere. The set will be split into two parts: in the first we'll play the whole new record, trying to bring into our live sound the ambient, synthetic and somewhat 80s textures that run through our last two albums. In the second part we'll play a selection of older tracks, though deciding which ones is hard. Every rehearsal is a small battle. 

Do you ever feel like chucking it all in? 

Yes, that happens to us a lot (they laugh). But in the end we make the music we want to make, with compromises that only happen within the band. We know we're not in step with the times, and we never will be. On the other hand, though, we're not ashamed of any of our songs, and that gives us strength. We like to think our records can stand the test of time, or that at least, even in hindsight, they can represent something good for us.

(March 26, 2025)

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