Gigante - Mediterranean synth-pop

After a long stint with Moustache Prawn, singer-songwriter Gigante from Puglia made his solo debut in 2018 with “Himalaya“: a first work centred on mountains and the tribal sounds of a certain strain of alt-folk. In March 2020 came his second effort, “Buonanotte”, a comeback - released through Carosello Records - marked by synth-pop shades and Mediterranean-school tropicalisms. We put a few questions to Gigante about the creative process behind the album, which could well mark out a new path for refined pop music in our country.

“Tempesta” is the single that seals the shift toward an unusual, placid synth-pop. Not just traditional, but influenced by quite a range of musical references. What was the starting point for “Buonanotte”?

I don't quite remember what spark set me on that path - I just know that every year I listen to a lot of music and let myself be influenced unconsciously. I can safely say I grew close to the 70s/80s sound thanks to my dad's 80s compilations I found in the car, which played a significant role in “Buonanotte”.

The album is the polar opposite of “Himalaya”: it's more understated and steeped in Mediterranean sounds and tropicalisms (“Gomma americana” seems to look admiringly toward “No Big Deal” by Giorgio Poi). Who are you particularly into at the moment?

When I listen to a project, I focus a lot on the vocal timbre or the way of singing - the stranger it is, the more I like it. I'm lucky enough to know a lot of people with that quality. Right now, one I particularly like is a singer-songwriter from Puglia named Lucia Manca.

Do you have any anecdotes to share about the creative process and the days spent in the recording studio?

I really have a terrible memory, but a lot happened, so instead of one anecdote I can describe my typical day in the studio. Woke up early with coffee, biscuits and Gaviscon, then straight to the studio to listen back with fresh ears to whatever we'd recorded the day before, three coughs to clear my throat and then we'd start recording. At lunch break we'd usually eat legumes, and there was always wine. In the afternoon I'd record the vocals, because in the morning I can't even talk properly. As for the evenings, we talked a lot, sometimes the dog on the sofa would wake up and look at us, then go back to sleep for fear the cat would steal its spot. My bedroom was near a pond, and because of that I even made friends with a frog, who'd say goodnight to me before I went to bed.

On the record, the autobiographical element is barely noticeable – because it's so well hidden. What line of thinking led you to make an album like “Buonanotte”?

Unlike “Himalaya”, with “Buonanotte” I wanted to talk more about myself, even if it doesn't seem that way, though I haven't completely abandoned the influence of literature or cinema. Let's say I've gained more command over songwriting, now I can talk about something personal almost naturally. In general I think talking about yourself isn't simple, at least for me it means, in a way, stripping yourself bare. I can say I've learned how to do that.

What was your approach to writing the songs compared to “Himalaya”?

Definitely, with “Buonanotte” I focused more on the search for sounds; with “Himalaya”, not having many resources, we had to make do — I say “we” because I arranged it with two friends, Antonio Conte and Fabrizio Semerano — whereas I produced “Buonanotte” entirely on my own, from every point of view, after learning to play keyboards. Compared to “Himalaya”, I had a much clearer idea of what I wanted from “Buonanotte”.

The record seems to perfectly capture the isolation we're living through right now. How are you spending this period?

Well, I really can't complain, though unfortunately where I am now I don't have many instruments with me, so every now and then I play whatever I can find, from pots to porcelain plates. Other than that, I read, study, watch films.

Are there any songs you feel particularly attached to?

It's a bit hard to answer that quickly, because before recording them, and even after, I listened to them so many times that by now I hate them all... Just kidding, I'm very happy with “Rettile”: it's a track that really reflects who I am.

From the peaks of “Himalaya” you head down to the sea. What (or who) makes you ask “Il mare come sta?”

Right now, the weather does, but luckily I can see the sea from my window at home; since I learned to swim last year, I can only now say I miss it — who would have thought. I like looking at it, it relaxes me, and in summer going underwater is like diving into another reality, slowed down and calm.

How do you picture this record performed live? What will the setup be like on stage?

In recent months, while preparing the live show, we worked in an almost obsessive way, taking care of practically everything, thanks to my friends Fabrizio Semerano, Antonio Conte and Giovanni Caramia, but above all to my sound engineer Pippo Laterza, who'll be with us on the upcoming tour. In the final days of putting the live show together we were 100% satisfied, ready to go, but then we got swallowed up by this dark period. Still, I think live music will get back on its feet very soon. I'm convinced of it.

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