Life's coincidences. Working for days on a Gino Vannelli monograph, and discovering by chance, a minute after writing the final full stop of the final paragraph, that the very artist you've been poring over will be in your city in two days' time to present his autobiography (“Stardust In The Sand” – Azzurra Music), accompanied by a CD retracing the key milestones of his career spanning more than thirty years. Could there be a better opportunity to satisfy those last lingering curiosities, and to hear straight from his own voice all those feelings that we, listeners devoted to the pen, struggle so hard to capture between the notes and set down in black and white? Thanks to the kindness of the singer's Italian management, we managed to get close to him on the sidelines of the showcase held in Milan, within the walls of the Mondadori Multicenter, in front of an attentive audience, with the backdrop of a Piazza Duomo bustling with foot traffic and Christmas lights.
Gino is in dazzling shape, dressed in a black suit, athletic build, and a head of hair that's the perfect midpoint between the thick bush of his Seventies look and the short cut of the following decade. And, not without surprise, we find ourselves faced with a chattiness that, given how I'd studied the man's shy, reserved character, was far from my rosiest expectations. A fine Christmas present, no doubt about it, the gist of which we try to bring you in this interview.
So, Gino, I've just finished the monograph dedicated to you, so this book of yours comes right on time. Can you tell me how it came about?
The idea for the book came about when Marco Rossi of Azzurra Music suggested I record “The Best And Beyond”, the new album featuring reinterpretations of my hits. Actually, the original idea was to write short notes commenting on each track, but then I realized the songs were becoming an occasion for me to dwell on my memories. And so these notes ended up turning into a series of short stories, which I collected in “Stardust In The Sand”.
I really enjoyed writing, and telling my stories, and I also like talking about them. But however much I might talk to people, it's never the same as singing, for me. Because it's only when I sing that my mind isolates itself from everything else, and it's like becoming a child again. Exactly like when my father used to find me singing alone, out loud in my room: even back then, I was singing to myself.
What are the anecdotes from your private life that you were happiest to make public?
Of course when I met my wife, but I have to confess that the parts I enjoyed most are all the ones where I behaved like a madman. There was a club in Boston called Pall's Mall, a truly terrible place but also a mandatory stop for anyone who wanted to get noticed. I went to check it out the night before I played: just as I'd been warned, urine was actually dripping from the ceiling, so much so that I kept my eyes fixed on my drink the whole time. There was a guy sitting at the piano playing and singing, but at the same time cursing out the whole world, and then spitting and swearing at the audience. He seemed fairly familiar to me, but I couldn't say I knew him (this was 1976), so I turned to my tour manager and said: "I don't think this guy is going anywhere." The next day I met this solo piano player who was staying at the same hotel as me, and someone said to me: "Gino, meet Billy Joel."
Well, these moments when you're wrong about people are the most fun to look back on, because every artist likes to think of himself as a genius. So I decided the best thing to do was to entertain by telling the truth, and that's why I titled one chapter "Of minor figures and feet of clay": when you say someone has feet of clay, it means that person is very human. And I am, fortunately, very human.
I've always had the idea that family was very important to you. You dedicated "Yonder Tree" to your father, not to mention "Brother To Brother" and your brothers Joe and Ross, with whom you recorded many albums. Is it true that it mattered so much, and why?
What do you mean exactly? Family is family…
Of course I mean in terms of your artistic experience. It's clear that family is important to everyone…
Yes, family is important to everyone. But I get what you mean: my brothers and I have always gotten along really well because we share the same way of looking at music. We all love music and we all make music, so… we've always shared a common way of life.
…and how much did that influence your artistic choices and your music?
Well, I've always gone my own way. I left home when I was eighteen and moved to New York for two years. My brother Joe was fantastic on keyboards and obviously wanted to be with me, so it was all perfect, it was a completely spontaneous choice. As for Ross, he was a great sound engineer, so it was all very…
…natural?
Exactly, in fact before you asked me this question I'd never even thought about it.
When "Crazy Life" came out, there were very few white artists paying so much attention to soul and jazz filtered through pop music. When I think of pop-soul, I think of Hall & Oates, while for pop-jazz I think of the Steely Dan, and you as well, of course. You all arrived too early for your time: do you consider yourself a trailblazer because of that?
That's not for me to say. Let's put it this way: it's happened to me often that I'd record something people only came to appreciate ten years later. Maybe at first the audience is puzzled, but ten years on they come and tell you that a certain album is their favorite. Sometimes it takes about ten years, that's all I can tell you.
I'd like to know what your relationship with "A&M" was like. Maybe after "People Gotta Move" in '74 they expected you to start making disco music…
No, I never had any major problems with "A&M", I was always given a lot of freedom. The problems came with Arista, who blocked the release of "Twisted Hearts" in 1982. After that episode I had to sit idle for a long time, and it was very hard for me…
Anyway, how hard was it for an artist like you to reconcile your music with the pressures tied to selling records?
Yeah, it's a real trap: on one hand you obviously want to be successful, and for that to happen you need a label willing to invest money, and then a whole staff, musicians and so on. On the other hand, I've always wanted to experiment with new, different things, and that in theory doesn't sit well with commercial demands. I don't know, maybe I've just been lucky, but I've always had enough success to keep making music and playing whatever I liked best.
Over the course of your career you've embraced many musical styles. From jazz to soul, from progressive to musicals, even electronic pop. Which genre has most influenced your musical formation?
I like them all. But one thing's for sure: I've always loved harmonies, and I've always been especially interested in harmonies that blend different genres — I like hybrids between electronic music, fusion, classical music and jazz. I've always studied chord changes and harmonies at the piano, trying to create something new and a little different each time.
You follow your soul...
Well, yes. Maybe my soul is in my ears, since it's my ears that tell me what I need to do.
When I happen to talk about you with casual listeners (the ones who listen to the radio in the car on the way to work, so to speak), they all mention your 80s hit "Black Cars" above all. I think it's a great song, but also a very limiting one (and in some ways misleading) as a representation of your music. What's your take on that?
Yes, that's true. It really does happen...
...but do you see that as positive or negative?
It's negative if you let it be, but in absolute terms it isn't at all. I've written tons of songs and done tons of other things, I didn't stop at that one. If I had stopped at "Black Cars" and that were the only thing I was remembered for, then yes, that would be a bad thing. But right after that I moved on to doing different things — I was already doing different things before, and later on too, throughout my career.
But moving into electronic pop was a big change for you...
Yes, but there was another big change after that too, when in the '90s I recorded "Yonder Tree", creating a totally acoustic sound...
...in a jazz vein...
Yes, in a jazz vein. The album sold well over time: at first it didn't sell much, since people didn't like it. But then, like I told you, in this case too someone came along ten years later saying it was their favorite album of mine.
Is there a record of yours you wouldn't make again, or that you'd do differently? Just don't tell me "Brother to Brother", or I'm walking out...
For instance, there's a remake of "The Surest Things Can Change" on my latest compilation that I actually prefer to the original...
Are you serious?
Of course, I actually think it's much better. Now I understand there are people who are attached to the original because they're nostalgic, but for me it's different...
...well, if you put it that way, then I'm a nostalgic!
If I think about my performance, both vocally and musically, it really is better. And my vocal delivery on "Put A Weight On My Shoulders" is preferable on this new album compared to the original too. (at this point, I would have liked to raise a number of purely subjective points about how many other factors, beyond these, matter when judging a work, but the risk was turning the interview into an endless debate, ed.)
So does technique really matter that much for making good music? There are two different schools of thought: many think it's mostly about good ideas, others think that without technique you won't get anywhere...
Why not have both?
Right, but is technique more or less important?
It's equally important. To be a good musician or a good singer you need both technique and good ideas, otherwise it's just not interesting.
Okay, but there are plenty of bands that, without having excellent musicians, still make brilliant pop songs. Don't you agree?
Sure, that can work for a song or two, maybe... But are we talking about artists, or about songs? Because those are two different things, in my opinion!
You and Joe are great talent scouts for musicians. I'm thinking of guitarist Carlos Rios, who made his debut on "Brother To Brother", or Enzo Todesco, who played drums on your 1991 world tour. What does a young musician need to have to play alongside Gino Vannelli?
He has to be willing to work hard. He certainly needs ability, talent and passion. In a way, he has to be like a traveler, an explorer. But he also has to put in a huge amount of practice for the tour, for the live shows. I hate it when someone shows up on tour unprepared.
Enzo Todesco was a huge surprise to me when I saw him live. I imagine it must have been hard to fill the role that had been Mark Craney's, and yet...
Yes, he was very young, and even I was amazed when I heard him.
You're a drummer yourself too. Who do you think is the best drummer you've ever played with?
Vinnie Colaiuta is an incredible drummer. He played and recorded with Frank Zappa, before embarking on a great career…
What are the three albums by other musicians you'd take to a desert island, and why?
Well, first of all, it would be tough being on a desert island. I'd probably bring a Debussy collection performed by Eugene Ormandy, and a Gershwin collection conducted by Leonard Bernstein. After that, I don't know…
Wow… only classical music? No pop or rock?
No, I don't think so, maybe a Stevie Wonder record, or something from early Steely Dan. Or maybe a Perry Como Christmas record (this title is accompanied by a gesture with his arms, pointing to the view of Piazza Duomo lit up in festive lights, glimpsed from the terrace in front of us, ed.).
I'm hoping for a concert of yours in Italy with lots of musicians onstage, Joe on the moog, backing singers and everything else, a bit like that incredible one I saw in '91 here in Milan. Do I have to keep holding on to that wish, or is it something you'll do again sooner or later?
I will, it'll happen!
Why have you been playing unplugged so often lately…
Well, I also have a west coast band and there's a will to go on tour with them, maybe next year.
Thanks to Laura Lucia Rossi for her patient and diligent support during the writing of this piece.
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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Marco Bercella, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.
| Crazy Life (1973, A&M) | 6.5 | |
| Powerful People (1974, A&M) | 7 | |
| Storm At Sunup (1975, A&M) | 7.5 | |
| The Gist Of The Gemini (A&M, 1976) | 8 | |
| A Pauper In Paradise (A&M, 1977) | 6 | |
| Brother To Brother (A&M, 1978) | 8 | |
| Nightwalker (Arista, 1981) | 6.5 | |
| Black Cars (Polydor Dreyfus, 1984) | 6 | |
| Big Dreamers Never Sleep (Polydor Dreyfus, 1987) | 6.5 | |
| Inconsolable Man (Vie, 1990) | 5 | |
| Live In Montreal (live, Vie, 1991) | 7 | |
| Yonder Tree (Verve Forecast, 1995) | 6 | |
| Slow Love (Verve Forecast, 1998) | 5 | |
| Canto (Vik Recordings, 2003) | 4 | |
| These Are The Days (Hip-o, 2006) | 5 | |
| A Good Thing (Cmm, 2009) | 5 | |
| The Best And Beyond (anthology, Azzurra, 2009) | 5 | |
| Live In L.A. (SoNo Recording, 2014) | ||
| Wilderness Road (SoNo Recording, 2019) | 7 |