Luca Madonia - Music to Stay Calm By

"I wanted to celebrate my first forty years in the business by fishing out the songs I love the most. So in the end I ended up covering myself". So says Luca Madonia, from Catania, ten years in Denovo flying the flag for Italian new wave, thirty as a refined solo singer-songwriter. The "gift" is called "We're All Staying Nice and Calm" and it's a distinctive acoustic collection of eleven of his classic songs plus three unreleased tracks. The new single just released from it is "The Alien", "a song", Luca tells us, "that reminds me of my great friendship with Franco Battiato, the 2011 Sanremo Festival we did together, and the privilege I had of spending time with a special human being like him". We take the opportunity for a pleasant chat ranging from Denovo to the present day, touching on music, memories and reflections on the here and now.

"We're All Staying Nice and Calm" is not just a title, it's an exhortation. Do we all need to calm down?

Yes, we're living in an age of neurasthenia and collective hysteria. A situation that has emerged especially after these two years of pandemic, which have helped fuel even more tension and intolerance. This album wants to be an invitation to live in the present with due calm. Which doesn't mean sedation and a lack of critical thinking, but acting with intellectual honesty, knowing how to listen, and above all taking the time not to behave impulsively and aggressively.

I worked by subtraction, with an album of songs stripped down into an acoustic, minimal key. Basically, I anticipated U2's 'Surrender' idea

The title, though, also reveals the approach you chose for reworking the tracks...

Exactly, I wanted to celebrate these beautiful 40 years of music, journeyed through so many seasons, from Italian new wave with Denovo in the '80s to thirty years of solo career. And I liked the idea of going back to fish out the songs I love most, the ones that meant something important, alongside the three new tracks that any compilation nowadays requires. So I chose to proceed by subtraction, stripping away a lot of sounds to let the voice and melody come through above all. Because in the end it's mostly the sounds, the arrangements, that age, while melodies, if they're good, endure. That way I rediscovered some of my "worlds" from other periods, which still make sense in an acoustic, minimal key: they're like reborn. I also noticed that U2 did something similar with "Songs Of Surrender": I guess I beat them to it!

So you're convinced too, a bit like Dylan (or here in Italy De Gregori), that a song isn't a fixed object, but can transform over time?

Yes, absolutely. Sounds inevitably become a bit dated, but a melodic line, a lyric, still carries weight and meaning even today. In fact, I hope I've ennobled some of my songs, like "Ma che idea", written in 1988 for Sanremo with Denovo: listening back to it now, with that arrangement and that little trumpet, it seemed a bit frivolous to me, but in this new guise it's regained its reason for being. Maybe some of these are also songs the audience kept asking me to play live that I'd stopped performing for exactly those reasons: they seemed to have aged badly. Anyway, I've thrown myself into this acoustic trip and I'm having a great time with it, even live.

Will you also be performing them live in this version?

Yes, we're two guitars, voice and an electric bass, so there's still pressure, which remains important, but you can create that with intention alone... For example, I think "Eleanor Rigby" by the Beatles is a beautifully taut, powerful song, almost rock, and yet it's just voices and strings, those cutting strings arranged by George Martin that make the difference. That's how I think of musical pressure, it's not just a loud drum hit and that's it, that would be too easy.

And then there are always certain lyrics that shed light. For example, in "Non ti mettere in nero" by Denovo you sing: “Un giorno forse si vedrà/ Più in là del nostro naso/ E sarà/ Quel giorno, sì, di certo/ Che sarà/ Un giorno molto lungo… Forse non ci saremo”. Those words seem very much in tune with the times we're living in. Why has it become so hard to see beyond our own noses?

There's a sort of exasperated individualism, combined with that hysteria we were talking about. Let's be honest: we couldn't care less about anyone else. Not just the migrant arriving here from who knows where, but even the person next door. We're more strung out, but society has changed at every level. It would be wonderful to regain that collective approach, to go back to that collective dream we had, with all its naivety - we all fell into it a bit, but at least we fell together - Now instead nobody really looks beyond their own nose, nobody understands that what's out there will eventually come back around and could be our future.

With Denovo we had a wonderful run. With endless tours and strong friendships, like the ones with Litfiba and Avion Travel. We went together to Barcelona by coach to play. It was the Italian new wave, a profound generational shift

What kind of musical era was that of Denovo? And what was your relationship like with the other bands of the Italian new wave?

It was a wonderful atmosphere. First of all we were twenty years old... (laughs) and there was an extreme desire to fulfil ourselves through music, to crown our passion. We weren't that interested in the idea of having success, we just wanted to do that job. We'd spend all day rehearsing and then play live. We really played a huge amount: I remember tours of forty or fifty dates. The whole Italian new wave movement of those years was a great generational shift, a bit like punk had been in England. Just a few days ago, I, who usually don't use social media much, posted a photo of myself with Piero Pelù on Instagram, writing "The Italian new wave of the '80s". It was a fantastic period, a phase of great redemption for us young people back then. And I have to say, with hindsight, that perhaps only now is the real importance of that musical era being truly understood.

Can we say that finally that era is starting to be placed alongside the major chapters in the history of Italian music, from the progressive rock era to that of the great singer-songwriters?

Things always need time to settle before they can really be understood. And that's what happened with the Italian new wave too. Those who grew up with us and our music remain romantically tied to that period, but there are also plenty of young people, especially among those who listen to and play a lot of music, who tell us wonderful things about us, about the kind of sound we had. And of course that gives me enormous pleasure. Also because we always did everything with zero calculation, events just unfolded that way, because that's how they were meant to go: meeting Francesco Fracassi, who became our manager, the successes that came afterwards, the tours... It all happened alongside the other key figures of that period - I mentioned Litfiba, with whom we played countless shows together, but also Avion Travel. We worked together, we set off together... It was a time when there were no mobile phones yet and everything worked in a more direct way. I remember a tour to the Biennale in Barcelona by coach: we set off from Catania, in Messina we picked up a theatre company - which included Ninì Bruschetta, who later became a well-known actor - then in Naples the whole Neapolitan crowd got on board, Avion Travel & company, then in Tuscany we picked up Litfiba, and we arrived in Barcelona after two days of travelling.

We in Denovo had been nicknamed 'the rock of the citrus grove' because of our Mediterranean sound. But the Catania scene has always been rich in cultural traditions, spanning music and theatre. Until Carmen Consoli, Uzeda, Basile & co. came along and it became known to everyone as 'the Seattle of the South', an expression that still makes me laugh

In that galaxy, though, Denovo had their own specific identity. Were you a sort of Mediterranean variant on new wave, one more classically anchored to Anglo-Saxon sounds?

Maybe Litfiba were a bit darker and gloomier at the start, a bit more dark, they'd nicknamed us "the rock of the citrus grove" because we were decidedly sunnier, so yes, Mediterranean too. Basically we put our loves into music, starting with the Beatles: they didn't belong to us as a generation, but we fell in love with these four lads from Liverpool, filtering their music through that of later artists like Talking Heads, Joe Jackson, The Police and Xtc, another band we adored. That's why it's ultimately logical that this sound came out the way it did, punchy, new, but also ironic - we wanted to lighten things up a bit, just like Andy Partridge and co. used to do.

Those were years of new ferment for Sicily too, and for Catania in particular. Besides Franco Battiato and yourselves, I'm thinking of Carmen Consoli, Cesare Basile, Moltheni, Uzeda, Kaballà. All artists who emerged from your city's scene. What was that Catania like?

In the 80s we were a bit naive, but I remember Catania was already a very lively city. It had this artistic vein, not just musical, but also tied to a strong theatrical tradition: the Stabile di Catania, for instance, did truly beautiful work all around the world. There was no shortage of problems, though: lots of people had to emigrate to play, there were few studios to record in and you'd have to travel miles and miles. Then we broke new ground there too with this way of living and interpreting music. Battiato moved back to live in Sicily and also produced our last album. Then from the 90s onward the other strand took off, with Carmen, Uzeda and all the rest. And there was more attention on Catania, which had become "the Seattle of the South", something that still makes me laugh a lot. The truth is that Italy is entirely made up of great provinces with great stories to tell. There's always something worthwhile in the provinces - we even talked about it once with Renzo Arbore (one of Denovo's mentors, who brought regular guests onto his TV show Doc, ed.), and he was convinced of this, that the Italian provinces have always been rich in truth and genius. People used to believe that only in Rome or Milan could something truly significant blossom, but fortunately in recent years that range has shifted a bit: after all, nowadays you can record an album even in your bathroom, wherever you like.

My friendship with Franco Battiato was one of the finest gifts life could have given me. With him you could talk about anything: he was a great scholar who aspired to self-improvement, there was nothing put-on about him. He was also an extremely fun and generous person, very far from that image of a guru that many people had built up of him. Going to Sanremo with him closed a circle

But, of course, the guiding light of that whole scene was Franco Battiato. You knew him well and spent a lot of time with him even in the last, difficult period of his life. What memories do you have of him?

I think my friendship with Franco was one of the finest gifts life could have given me. I met him toward the end of the 80s, when he was moving back to live in Sicily after his years in Milan. It was thanks to a record-label friend of ours that we arranged for Franco himself to produce our last album, "Venuti dalle Madonie a cercar carbone". And from there a wonderful friendship began, made up of everything: big conversations, everyday life, simple things, more complicated things. Franco was truly a likeable, good person. And he contained multitudes: he was really many things at once. With him you could tackle any subject: he was a great scholar who aspired to self-improvement. He had the ability to set his spiritual world to music and make it reach everyone, with the skill of a truly great musician; he managed to intrigue audiences with difficult themes through tremendous melodic and harmonic mastery. And on top of that he was an extremely fun person. I remember that at first we were scared at the idea of meeting this sort of guru figure, but instead he put you at ease immediately. That said, his austerity was real: he truly was a mystic, a scholar, capable of putting his complex world into his lyrics and music. There was nothing put-on or artificial about him: he really believed in it and lived for culture. Then there was a long friendship, mine and my wife's - she became, I believe, his best friend for some thirty years. I remember so many trips together, making music together, having granitas together, funny everyday moments. He had this ability to defuse drama that taught me a lot, even in this crazy profession, where there are people who feel all-powerful just because they've been on the radio for a month straight. Well, luckily he taught me to look at things from the outside, to keep perspective and to understand whether one is wrong or not.

And it was with Battiato that you went to Sanremo in 2011 with "The Alien". What was that experience like?

I went up on that stage four times. In 1987 I was at "Sanremo Rock" in that magical edition with Carlo Massarini: I was there with Denovo alongside all these extraordinary international guests... Paul Simon, Simply Red, Smiths, Style Council, Patsy Kensit, Duran Duran & co. Then I came back in 1988, competing again with Denovo, and in 2008 as Mario's guest. And then, to close the circle, there was the 2011 edition. Morandi had invited me and I don't know by what magic - or maybe just out of friendship - I managed to convince Franco to come along with me. He told me: "I'll come, but only to be your backing vocalist!". In reality, he came purely out of affection, he couldn't have cared less about the competition, but he had a great time. And so, at 2 minutes and 40 seconds into the song, out he popped wearing that headset... he was the real Alien!

In recent years the Sanremo Festival has undergone various transformations, and has perhaps become a bit more youthful too, with a different openness toward musical styles that were once taboo: would you go back?

Sanremo remains a great showcase, and yes, in the meantime the world has changed too. I see artists I don't mind and others where... I don't know, I just don't get the point of them! But, why not, I could go back someday, although honestly I've never thought about it. Also because the last time, with Franco - as I was saying - it closed a circle. I don't want to sound snobbish, though: it undeniably remains an important showcase.

Do you have any new musical projects in the works?

Right now I'm mainly focused on live shows, which are the truest side of my music at the moment. In this acoustic trio there's a real connection, we have fun and we'd like to bring that feeling out on the road. We're putting together some shows that we'll be doing between spring and summer. The live setting is a testing ground: I'd like to revisit the concept of the last album, so my own story, but in a leaner, simpler form, combined with a few anecdotes, because I've become quite chatty and I enjoy talking on stage. To think that I used to barely speak... with Denovo we didn't say a word, we could hardly even manage "hi".

What music are you listening to these days?

I have to say this job has somewhat changed the way I perceive listening to music. That immediate, goosebumps kind of emotion is gone. But I can still be moved by music, which remains my addiction, even if my approach is different now. Among the younger generation, for instance, I like Colapesce and Dimartino, I find them smart and witty. I've done several things with them too - for example, on September 21, 2022 at the Arena di Verona, in a sort of Sicilian reunion with Carmen, Giovanni Caccamo, and Mario Incudine, we closed the concert in memory of Franco Battiato by performing "Centro di gravità permanente" together, completely off the cuff. But I have to confess that if I listen to an old track by the Beatles, Xtc, or Franco, I'm always moved much more.

(01/06/2023)

Ride the wave of great music

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