Il Teatro degli Orrori - Cold-blooded rock fury

After the shock debut of “Dell’impero delle tenebre”, on their second effort (“A sangue freddo”) Teatro degli Orrori seem to have shifted towards a stylistic choice that smooths out the rough edges, setting aside the wild noise onslaught in favor of a more considered (though at times no less furious) rock rage, occasionally indulging in melodic exploration and nods to the classic Italian singer-songwriter tradition. A recipe that has established them as the name of the moment on the Italian alternative-rock scene. We caught up with the leader and singer of the Venetian band formed by former members of One Dimensional Man, Pierpaolo Capovilla, who granted us this interview.

The music on “A sangue freddo”, overall, continues and enriches with new shades what came before it, “Dell’impero delle tenebre”. What were you listening to, and what inspired you, between the two records?

I couldn't say. I haven't listened to new stuff in a long time, and I'm hardly ever influenced by what other people do. If there's an "inspiring reason", I'd say it's the country we live in, getting uglier, more dishonest, more ignorant all the time. Faced with so much hypocrisy, writing songs comes naturally to me. It's stronger than me. I think I can say this new record is more refined than the previous one. That's down to Giulio (the album's bassist and producer, Giulio Favero, ed.).

The album sounds more blatantly rock: compressed and direct. Is the search for a more accessible sound part of an artistic maturation (one that also encompasses the One Dimensional Man records), or is it an attitude specific and exclusive to this particular work?

There's no doubt we tried to make a more classically rock record, moving away from noise clichés. I'm certain it's a matter of artistic maturation. After all, I'm forty now, and at my age you inevitably feel pushed to look for different solutions. One thought comes to mind spontaneously: “A Sangue Freddo” is a record in which Giulio played a major role, both in the composition and in the arrangements. Giulio isn't just the band's bassist, but a true artistic producer: he oversaw every aspect of its making—the recording, the mixing, the mastering, all the outside collaborations. Thirty-three days at Officine Meccaniche: it was a gripping, terribly exhausting experience, but it was worth it.

Is the Italian language the origin of this project, or a consequence of it? One gets the sense that you deliberately sought greater immediacy, in step with the times we're living in. Is that right?

I discovered how great it is to sing in Italian only a few years ago. Great because finally the people listening understand what I'm saying: it's the only way to reach people's hearts. It also brings about a different relationship between the song and the person writing it, since the English language acts as a kind of “medium” between what you think and what you're going to say. With Italian, it's a whole different story...

It makes me smile when I hear people say that making rock music in Italian is difficult. I don't see anything complicated about it: with One Dimensional Man I used to drive myself crazy trying to write songs that satisfied me, now everything is... so much easier!

Compared to the sizeable Italian “brain drain” (in independent music too: Zu and Bloody Beetroots, to name two), yours is an exceptional case. Don't you think that Italian holds you back in a country that certainly isn't doing much to help music and the arts in general?

With the political class we're stuck with, culture is falling apart. I can't recall a worse government in the history of the Italian Republic, I can't recall so much incompetence and demagoguery.

But why should I care what governments and administrations do or don't do for music, theatre, or art in general! I've never had any help from anyone. I'm happy to live in Italy and to be a citizen of it. I don't feel “held back”, I feel inevitably involved instead. We're here to fight. To change this wretched country.

You've said that what interests you deeply is describing society: in the album, it does seem that Otherness sits at the centre, in all its relational dimensions of hate, love, rage, invective. Is the aim purely descriptive, or is there a social proposal about relating to the other hidden beneath your lyrics?

All the despair hidden within our songs implies a desire for redemption and emancipation: if it weren't so, it wouldn't be worth singing these songs at all... I'm convinced that a good song, one with authenticity and substance, can help improve society. Good music always carries a progressive value. In the Seventies, De André, De Gregori, Bennato, I'd even say Finardi, Ivan Graziani, Pfm, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso: these artists spoke to people, told the story of the country and its contradictions, they were civil society, alive, proactive, socially engaged. Those were certainly times of great hope; perhaps we could start again from there, from hope.

The song for Ken Saro-Wiwa seems to be about the power of the word: this freedom to shout out your dissent, even through music—can it change things? Do you believe, in this sense, that poetry might be entering a kind of new season?

Poetry saves us from the mediocrity of our existences. I've long been convinced that yes, music does help change the state of things. Making rock music means contributing to the construction of the collective imagination, and therefore to people's lives.

A new season for poetry? Why not? But I'm not a poet, I'm the singer of Il Teatro degli Orrori: I write songs, perhaps with a certain poetic tension, but songs nonetheless. If we want a poet, let's go find my fellow countryman Andrea Zanzotto, or ask the late Alda Merini for guidance.

“E' colpa mia” sounds, musically, like a tribute to the Italian independent scene of the Nineties: Afterhours, Marlene Kuntz, Ritmo Tribale, Subsonica... What's changed compared to fifteen years ago in the Italian indie world?

A tribute to Italian independent music of the Nineties... That would never have crossed my mind! No offence to the artists mentioned, but in the Nineties I was listening to Scratch Acid, Birthday Party, Jesus Lizard, Big Black, Rapeman, Killdozer, Butthole Surfers, No Means No, Fugazi... Everything except Italian bands. I never even listened to Cccp. I saw them live a couple of times: they were awesome.

La Tempesta is the happiest example of how sincerity and quality are well rewarded: no compromises, no artifice, trust in the artistic product itself. All things that the majors have never known how to do, least of all now. Isn't it perhaps also because of this that sales are down? In this sense, some argue that betting on ethics and quality today pays off in the long run. Is that your opinion too?

Yes, yes, and yes again. Sales are down because there's no quality, no intellectual honesty. "A sangue freddo" is selling well. Something is changing. Vasco Brondi, Giorgio Canali, Moltheni, La Tempesta's artists all make good music, and, in one way or another, I feel an elective affinity with them. La Tempesta is a group of people who love music, who do what they do out of vocation, out of love. That makes the guys at La Tempesta not just reliable partners, but also friends you can trust.

Making music in Veneto: it seems that lately this region has been exporting a lot of artistic material - and excellent stuff at that. Is it a social rejection of the typical northeastern home-work-home routine, or its direct product?

I couldn't care less about being from Veneto and living among these people. The northeastern lifestyle has never suited me, and never will. I live in Venice, a marvelous city and the jewel of the region, and I feel lucky, because Venice, for all its narrow-minded ignorance, still remains an exception. I feel like a citizen of the world, and I reject all localism. Sure, the northeast is a perfect example of how prosperity and economic progress don't necessarily bring cultural improvement to society. And there's no doubt that our music is born out of the impatience we feel toward the pointless busyness of these people. My parents made great sacrifices to let me study, they wanted me to graduate, because they wanted a better son, more aware and conscious than their own generation. Today, here in Veneto, it seems like nobody thinks about the future anymore: we live in an eternal, stupid present.

What are Il Teatro's future plans? Any hints for us?

Ahead of us lies an endless tour. That's the first thing we'll need to worry about. We'll shoot a new video in January, and we're planning an acoustic album for the end of 2010. But it's too early for new projects.

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