Levante - The Revenge of Pop

We'd left her a summer ago with the hit single "Alfonso", a well-deserved radio consecration for a promising debut album. A few months on, we find her signed to one of Italy's most celebrated pop labels, the venerable and ever-thriving Carosello Records, ready to deliver the long-awaited step up in quality, amid exhausting tours, well-earned professional vindication and a newfound happiness…

From Manuale Distruzione to Take care of yourself: starting from the title of this, your second record, the mood and intentions seem almost the opposite of the recent past: is it another side of you, perhaps more optimistic, wanting to come out, or more simply an invitation to defend yourself from your own weaknesses, including through music and your songs?

I think it's simply a consequence. A moment of growth and revolution arrived in my life, so I decided to stop freezing myself in adolescent sadness and try to pursue happiness in every way. It's the search for happiness after so many years in which I couldn't find a balance of my own.

The success achieved after various formative trials and tribulations - I'm thinking especially of your experience in Leeds - obviously has a different flavour, certainly a more special one. What has changed in you as a musician, from meeting Davide Pavanello (and hence also your first shows supporting Max Gazzè), to your recent May Day performance? Do you feel changed in any way? How are you experiencing this moment?

I remain absolutely the same person as always, the same as when I was fourteen, with a bit more maturity, sure. The only thing that's changed is that I can pay my rent with music… (laughs)

The move to Carosello marks an important second step up in your career. From a strictly production standpoint, you were still followed and supported by the same Inri team. And yet, in "Take care of yourself", a considerable enrichment of the overall sound is already noticeable from the very first tracks. The introspection of the lyrics remains, but it's cradled by decidedly more spacious arrangements, certainly more varied on the rhythmic side. Has everything simply improved with the experience you've gained, or did you feel you were really only now pressing down on the accelerator?

The answer is very simple: I paid for "Manuale Distruzione" myself. Now, instead, I've had the chance to work with great professionals. Behind this record there's a much stronger team. When we had the chance to bring in Gnu Quartet to play the strings, we called them in. It's not that we didn't want to dream big in the past, it's just that, quite simply, we couldn't do it beyond a certain point.

Yes, it's absolutely Sanremo-esque. It recalls the atmosphere of the Sixties and Seventies that we won't find at Sanremo anymore. So I went digging into our less recent musical culture.

Is the track "Caruso Pascoski" a tribute to Francesco Nuti's film "Caruso Pascoski di padre polacco"? How did this song come about?

Clearly, yes. It came about because it's one of my favorite films, because I have such a vivid memory of me and my father in front of the television watching this film. It came about because I love Francesco Nuti to bits, and because it's completely tied to the concept of the album. In the sense that Caruso chases love, loses it, and wins it back. So it's a very strong, very positive message of love.

Actually, with that line I was referring a bit to those figures who, even though they've had their run, are still so full of ego that they cling tooth and nail to positions they can no longer justify. Certainly, the web amplifies this kind of thing. There was a time when certain situations, certain parties, certain contexts were fairly limited and hidden, whereas today, through social media, we can witness these amplifications firsthand.

Palagonia and Turin are two very different worlds. The first embodies your land, your roots, while the second has been, in a way, your adopted city. Deep down, what do you hold most dear about each of them?

I actually think they're one and the same thing. Catania and Turin are incredibly alike, as strange as that might sound. Certainly not in how you experience them or in their aesthetics, but they're alike for two main reasons. They're both incredibly rich cities, full of life, passion and a wealth of culture. And they're both cities of the South. Even though Turin is in the North, it's full of southerners like me (laughs...). I'm the perfect example of that community that lives in Turin and eats arancini.

In “Ciao per sempre” airy, prominent strings emerge alongside a more pulsing rhythm section. Meanwhile the lyrics ooze disenchantment and a necessary lightness toward the various farewells life imposes on us. How did this wonderful interplay/contrast between words and music come about?

It was easy to talk about lightness and about a goodbye, because this song actually isn't about me. It's a friend's love story, one to which I wanted – let's say – to contribute in a very light-hearted way, quite unlike how I'd actually behave in reality. So “ciao per sempre” (“goodbye forever”) is almost a “see you later,” but there's this “forever” that, deep down, locks the door for good. The contrast is typical of my music. Even in “Alfonso,” when I shouted “che vita di merda” (“what a shitty life”), I did it with a smile, with this very tender little voice, like I was schizophrenic. And that's really what I am – musically I'm schizophrenic, I write very deep things and then I deliver them to you in a very light way. It's such an inherent trait of mine that it will never leave me.

In “Finché morte non ci separi” you sing with your mother. When did you decide to bring her into the studio with you? How did it feel?

I was driving back to Turin, on the motorway, thinking about this album – it was last summer – and while thinking about “Fin che morte non ci separi,” I asked myself, “it would be nice to have my mother sing too,” and then I thought: God, will she even manage it, will she be able to perform, to sing well, it's the first time she'll ever set foot in a studio, and so on. Instead, she was perfect. She put us all to shame. It was very moving. She got really emotional. Once she got past the initial shock, she just powered through like a train. She almost didn't want to leave... (laughs)

Even though the album ranges across a variety of emotions, love and its many paths reign supreme throughout pretty much the whole record. I'm thinking especially of the title track. In your opinion, to what extent is it acceptable for a woman to risk everything for love?

Honestly, a man alone is a man finished. Love has to be there. It's fine to take risks as long as you respect yourself and others. There's a limit to the price of happiness. The moment you hurt and destroy someone else, it becomes something else entirely – selfishness, and so on.

Your last tour was incredibly intense, and you earned huge, well-deserved success. You even made it to Los Angeles and New York. What are you taking away from this first long journey of yours into the world of music? What should we expect from the new tour? 

I've learned an enormous amount, and I've met so many people who taught me things that were small but essential. I'm definitely still holding on to humility. In the sense that I walk on stage always looking down at my feet, remembering where I come from and what I did to get there. The American experience taught me that you can always do more – you come up against so many monsters, people who get on stage and just kill it. This summer there's going to be a lot of energy, because this album is full of electronic music, and you'll notice it...

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google