Giovanni Succi - Between raw meat and malicious algorithms

After spending the summer with the most stone-hard Dante in the show “The art of the selfie in the Middle Ages”, Giovanni Succi releases his second solo album away from Bachi Da Pietra: “Carne cruda a colazione”. The perfect occasion for a chat about this “mincing of himself” and the many ills of a society to be fought with the right choices.

Let's ease our way into “Carne cruda a colazione”: let's start with “The art of the selfie in the Middle Ages”. What did that experience leave you with, and how much did it shape the album?

"L'arte del selfie nel Medioevo" was born this year while waiting for the album to come out. I had this crazy idea of touring with Dante's "Rime Petrose," a work of his that's almost unknown but really interesting, completely experimental: a side of Dante you've never seen. So I was happy to present it, since these are my passions! It was an improvised show, where among the "Rime" I'd slot in songs from the Bachi da Pietra repertoire and others taken from "On the rocks." I loved it! The response was incredible too: on paper it seemed like an impossible idea, and instead hundreds of people, every summer evening in unbelievable heat, stood glued to the spot listening to this story... At one point I'd ask them if they weren't some kind of installation or something staged, but no, they were real people!

Do you feel like continuing this tour?

Right now it's on hold because the tour for "Carne cruda a colazione," produced by Tudemun Cocerti, is about to start: this is the moment to take the album on the road. But I'm not ruling out picking it back up — in fact, there'll be a short leg of "L'Arte del selfie nel Medioevo" in Sardinia, where I rarely get the chance to go. That brief stop will happen on October 11th, and then in November the "Carne cruda a colazione" tour kicks off.

Let's start talking about the album then: on "Con Ghiaccio" you were more the protagonist of every song, here you're more of an onlooker, standing back to narrate and call out reality, more focused on what surrounds you than on what's inside you.

As far as the themes go, there's continuity: when you talk about things in the world, you're still talking about yourself and how you see them. I talk about my own stuff the way I did on "On the rocks," but actually from a different angle. "Carne cruda a colazione" is a mince of myself, I'm in there, along with a lot of other issues. Along with a lot of great musicians! There's Rodrigo D'Erasmo, there's Ivan A. Rossi, producer of this album and the previous one, in charge of synths, electronics and recording; there's Tristan Martinelli, who'll be with me live to perform the work, there's Giovanni Stimamiglio, who also played on "On the rocks." It's turned into a really great ensemble, and I was glad to have the chance to present it again. I'm very happy, this raw meat for breakfast is going down well... maybe that's all we need, forget the jam!

Are you ready to launch a new diet trend too?

No, I don't have that ambition, it's simply a metaphor! (laughs, ed.)

Let's look at the word "raw" — especially in the English sense of the term. How much does it cost you to be this honest? Is it always this natural for you to be so brutally blunt and direct?

To me, it's the highest form of honesty an artist can show their audience. Whether it's one person or a million. It's the only thing to do: be authentic, otherwise there's the Industry, all the rest. There's room for everyone in the world, but if you do what I do, the bare minimum is being authentic. What happens after that, we'll see.

In my case, a song always starts from an idea, and an idea is a small world that has to be coherent within itself. I always try to find coherence between what I want to say and the form I say it in. There's a lot of acoustic percussion, and yet on a track like "Algoritmo" there's a wealth of synthetic sounds: I wanted to talk about something totally synthetic and unknown... I've never met an algorithm in person! (laughs, ed.) But it decides our fate as listeners, so it seemed worth talking about!

Still, these are songs that come together in a very simple way, all of them reducible to an acoustic guitar. Part of the pleasure of touring with them lies in that too. Going back to "L'arte del selfie nel Medioevo," I realized that my whole output — Bachi da Pietra included — can be played that way: in the end they're just songs, nothing overthought.

The answer is: they come from an idea that has to be coherent, so depending on the idea I have, I bring in a sound and certain instruments. For example: "Povero Zio," which deals with a religiosity imposed by who knows whom, goes back to tribalism, where the primal concept of sacredness is the drum. Hence all those drums, claps and so on!

Now that "Carne cruda a colazione" is out, would you tweak anything?

No, without false modesty. When something of mine comes out, it means I've thought about it a lot. That's never happened to me, not even listening back to the Madrigali Magri records from twenty years ago. I don't regret anything, I'd do it all the same way again: also because they're snapshots of that particular moment. Like looking back at old photos of yourself. Sure, you can say "eh, I could have done without those trousers...", but that's what I was wearing at the time, so it's fine as it is. Especially when you work with professionals like Ivan Rossi on the sound, you're in safe hands: nothing slips past you because nothing slips past him. He's got that very engineer-like side that I actually lack, which is why I trust his expertise.

Let's keep naming some names then… can we know who Gino Melenso and I Melliflui are?

No, but there are tons of them! Gino, Il Timido, Il Melenso, I Melliflui: just go on Spotify and there's a ton and a half of them!

“Carne cruda a colazione” doesn't talk about society's ills in a passive way, quite the opposite: it denounces them forcefully and offers remedies, hopes. In the artistic field, which realities do you currently consider the most significant?

They've always existed and will continue to exist: the greatest things were born in the worst periods of history. I don't make it a question of the times or lack thereof: I'll just allow myself to advise the audience to look for something outside the box, like raw meat for breakfast! Also because the algorithm knows everything about us, but something escapes it. An example: when I was 18, I was a convinced, uncompromising metalhead. By chance I heard a Tom Waits record at the house of a friend of my older brother, and on first listen… I really hated it. Then it changed my life. It turned my whole existence around, and everything I've listened to and all my subsequent experience is tied to that small turning point, which never would have come if I had entrusted myself completely to the algorithm, because it would have kept suggesting me yet another clone of Venom and Motorhead.

You have to give your existence the chance to be knocked off course, beyond your own taste. Maybe you won't like it afterwards: but it has to be us who decide that, not let someone or something decide for us, whether it's boredom, wallpaper or furniture.

You're very precise about how and when to listen to the record: is there an ideal guide for tasting this meat?

No, please, not at all. You're referring to "Meglio di niente", where I wrote in the liner notes: "WARNING, don't play it at birthday parties or it'll ruin them! Or don't play it in a shopping mall." It's a song that only asks not to be treated as wallpaper. At that point, hit pause and listen to it another time. I don't have a precise indication. Listen to it however and whenever you like!

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