Marta Collica - Grace and insecurity

First the vocalist of Micevice, then a longtime collaborator of Cesare Basile, Hugo Race, Dining Rooms and countless other artists, before eventually becoming one half of Sepiatone.

The Catania-born artist now opens up to Onda Rock in this exclusive, wide-ranging interview.

Berlin, Salò, Catania, Melbourne. Where do you live now?

I've been based in Catania for the past two months. In Berlin I'm waiting for an apartment to become available so I can move in: I want to keep a base there because when I start touring in northern Europe it's the most convenient, welcoming and suitable spot — it's always worked out really well for me. I'll go back to Melbourne, but I don't know exactly when yet: it depends a bit on my European commitments. I love Melbourne so much: it's a place with a lot of musician friends I've worked with and keep working with even remotely. I can't wait to go back to play some live shows and record some arrangements with them for Sepiatone and other projects. I always find it a really special city, especially from a musical point of view.

Catania remains my emotional home base: my family is here, I have a circle of friends I still share music with and a long-standing friendship, and it's a very inspiring place scenery-wise. I'm glad I spent almost these entire two months here.

Let's talk a bit about your solo album, “Pretty and Unsafe”. You're getting rave reviews from every direction. Did you expect that?

(very curtly) No. I have to say no, because I'm not more in love with this album than with other things I do or keep doing with Sepiatone or with John (Parish).

I have to say it's really nice to feel understood, at least in terms of intentions: it's an album that came together in a very spontaneous way, it was recorded in very few sessions, and I wanted to keep that raw quality – which is also part of my personality – a bit intimate and a bit fragile.

John Parish encouraged me a lot in this – in expressing myself this way, in not retouching things, in not going back over the songs.

I'm happy because the intention was exactly that: to expose myself in a fragile and spontaneous way in how I make music, and I didn't expect it to be received like this: in the end I know that in some way it's much easier to listen to albums that are a bit more "complete", more "thought out".

I didn't expect this synchronicity of events, being able to play shows soon and getting so many reviews all concentrated in the same weeks. The reviews sparked a bit more interest. I thought it would spread a bit more "underground".

Recorded very quickly, then. So why did I think these songs had a long gestation?

The songs came about during a period when I was fairly free of other commitments and on my own, so I wrote them in one go. Cesare (Basile) was the first to hear them and said: "Let's go record them right away." We went to the studio with him, he sat down at the drums, followed my lead, and we recorded ourselves on his multitrack. A week later we went into the studio with John (who recorded the album) and did these quick sessions, all live, and then John took a couple of tracks to Bristol and mixed them.

Then I went on doing other things: starting the album with John, going on tour with Hugo [Race]… and between one bout of work, touring and another, we picked out, for instance, a few rougher tracks recorded at home on cassette, Hugo added a mellotron here and there…, but it all came together pretty quickly.

The album came out later than the recordings because there was actually a moment of doubt – I told myself: "maybe I should produce these songs in a less off-the-cuff way." Instead John, Hugo and Cesare – who were around me a bit, and with whom I kept talking about the project – pushed me to release it just as it was, just as it had been "created".

The album came out afterwards. The songs were recorded in a single moment, as soon as they were written, and weren't touched up, either in the lyrics or in the melodies.

Now that I've been playing them live for a while, they've changed a bit. Maybe to the listener they don't sound all that different, but for me they are quite a bit … they've become more internalized.

In fact, you told me a while back that these tracks were recorded during a particular period of your life and that they don't reflect who you are right now.

If you had to record them today, would you record them differently?

Probably not all of them would be there. I'm very happy with how it went: I recorded them at a particular moment when I was very introspective about my emotions. Now I'm a bit more focused on doing things that are a bit more structured.

The next album will be totally different. I think. At least, from the material I'm gathering, I can already hear other sonorities.

But when you talk about a “next record,” do you mean specifically under your own name or as Sepiatone?

For Sepiatone we're working on new tracks and we're recording. This will also take quite a while, because we write, we go into the recording studio, but right now it's a matter of laying down the tracks, arranging them with the musicians, though given both my commitments and Hugo's, I don't foresee a fairly long studio session happening any time soon.

Then there are other tracks I'm working on that are just mine. Even Hugo, I don't think he'd fully identify with them. He really likes a certain folk side of me, but that's not Sepiatone: Sepiatone's songs are born out of sounds that he suggests to me.

So yes, I'm talking about a hypothetical future record of my own. Or in any case a collection of my own songs that who knows when I'll get around to recording.

Mh. Marta, I hope our friendship won't be strained by the next question… Earlier we talked about a sense of intimacy of yours in “Pretty and Unsafe” that I honestly struggle to see… There are several musicians playing on the record who “characterize” it… maybe it's because I know them…

Their involvement came about a bit like the way things we do together usually come about: Cesare sat down at the drums (which isn't his instrument), accompanied me, and kept to that role, playing very little guitar; John's concern was not to “disturb” the track: he really liked the emptiness I created in those pauses, and taking my time, because in the end, recording myself live playing and singing gives the song a personal flow; Hugo helped me select some tracks I'd recorded many years ago on a cassette recorder.

Their presence runs through the whole record, and they were the people who, in any case, wanted to contribute of their own accord.

What forms between us – and this is one aspect of how I like to collaborate – is finding a point of connection while performing the tracks.

The result you hear is also down to this closeness and friendship of ours. It's also part of the everyday life we share, the life I live with these musicians: they're friendships, almost family ties. Having John in the studio means he happened to be here on holiday; Hugo, since we live together, follows me while I'm selecting certain tracks, certain versions, and that's probably part of how I experience everyday life with all the musicians.

It's a bit hard to picture, but yes, in fact, I went into the studio when John was here on holiday with his family, Cesare was spending some time in Catania (for a few years now Basile has been living in Milan), Hugo was at my place, so it all happened very naturally.

It's also true that it's not easy for me to play with just anyone, and I have no interest in making a record that's entirely mine in the sense that no one else touches the instruments, even though it's a record on which I played a lot: keyboards, guitar, synthesizer, I did some of the mixing, I oversaw every stage, much more so than with Sepiatone or anything else.

I'll admit that the release of “Pretty and Unsafe” threw me a little: I've always thought that when a band member puts out a solo record, it's because they feel they don't have enough room within the band, or they feel the need to do something completely different, yet “Pretty and Unsafe” sounds close to Sepiatone… I mean… a Marta Collica record, half of Sepiatone, backed by the other half of Sepiatone… it's a bit… a bit of a “mumble mumble,” you know.

… Um… Sepiatone's work happens in the moments when Hugo is away from his commitments with True Spirit and we find ourselves in the same place. Actually we work a lot remotely, but less and less over the years. Keep in mind the first record was born almost entirely through correspondence; for the second we carved out more space, more moments to write together and make the songs together.

At that point I was going through a phase of loneliness: Hugo was busy with other projects, so he was far away both physically and creatively, he wasn't there to support me. I found myself alone with some very conflicting emotions about my condition as a musician, as a woman, as a sidekick or as half of a project that is nonetheless subject to needs that aren't only mine. These songs tell that story of mine. So I felt the need to have something entirely my own in terms of composition, in terms of choosing how it should be recorded, something that didn't depend on anyone else. It was a bold choice I felt I had to make, but it also had consequences, because by the time Hugo came back from Australia I was already in the studio, so he chose to accompany me on a few tracks because, in a way, he can't give up that cross-contamination with me, just as I can't give it up with him.

This record is about how I live with my own solitude and my own expressiveness.

Listen, let’s talk a bit about the “Songs with Other Strangers” project (a supergroup that includes, besides Marta, Hugo Race, Cesare Basile, John Parish, Jean-Marc Butty, Stef Kamil Carlens of Zita Swoon, Giorgia Poli, Manuel Agnelli, and surely someone else I can’t recall right now).

It was your idea, and the credit went to (many) others. I imagine that’s frustrating.

(sighs) The credit went to others while we were in the middle of the tour and we were being introduced as “Manuel Agnelli’s project” or “Cesare Basile’s new project”, but Manuel and Cesare were the first to point out that the idea had come from me. Even though it wasn’t an idea I was at all possessive about — what would be the point of claiming it? I didn’t need that, and besides, I know exactly how these things go: it’s very easy to associate a project with the most visible people, the most high-profile artists. What I did was really just the beginning: Manuel, more than anyone, was the one who brought us all together, bringing in his management for a first tour… I never would have managed it on my own, I didn’t have the foresight that Manuel has.

Can you tell me how the idea came about?

The idea for Songs with Other Strangers came about because… maybe… look, I don’t want to get it wrong… it was around the same time that John found himself doing the first recordings with me for “Pretty and Unsafe” here in Catania. Cesare and Hugo were there too, and we’d decided to play live a bit and do a show where we’d mix our repertoires: I liked this idea because it was something we’d already done in the studio — with John, with Hugo, and with Cesare it happened that we’d perform each other’s songs during studio sessions, and it occurred to me to actually put that into practice, to do a real show. When Manuel found out about this idea he immediately got on a plane and came down: “I want to be part of this too!”

That very evening of the show, this idea took shape: writing songs specifically for the project, where one person writes a song that’s then sung by someone else. Or trying to rearrange each other’s songs in a “unified” way, with a band made up of a whole bunch of singer-songwriters.

I don’t know if there’s some kind of compositional perversity at play (smiles), I really don’t know. But we loved it, and the thing immediately started growing, and it’s still growing.

It was a wonderful experience also because it took us away from our usual roles, and we could all relax a bit.

In fact, during the show I saw all of you running from one instrument to another, and it was a lot of fun.

Actually, from what I understand, then, we can still expect something more, maybe over quite a long time.

Yes, maybe not too long, but there’s an idea of continuing on, getting together to write pieces specifically for this lineup, maybe expanded a bit further still.

Marta, I have to be honest: I had a hard time piecing together your entire discography. Actually, I’ll send it to you, so you can take a look and tell me if I’ve forgotten anything…

You know what?

What?

Maybe you can also find it on my Myspace page.

I thought of it afterwards! And it wouldn't have been fun anyway.

By the way, I think it's not complete, you know?

Well then, send it to me!

I'll warn you straight away that I didn't include Nada's "Tutto l'Amore che Mi Manca". Was that a mistake?

No! Also because I didn't really do much on that one: I just played some percussion. I mostly followed her on the English part of the song, that's it. I'm not really a significant presence there.

But how do all these collaborations come about? And how do you manage to juggle them all? I imagine it's not easy.

I think it was Hugo who passed on to me the ability to move between one project and another. Before, I could only do one thing at a time, with passion and focus; over time I've developed this ability to adapt to situations, to learn parts quickly, to get my bearings and do rehearsals and shows right after, in very concentrated stretches of time.

It's a strange life because I'm always on the move. There are downsides too: for example, I've now developed a bit of a fear of flying, and I hate suitcases, I hate packing them, I hate unpacking them, I hate repacking them; I leave stuff behind all over the world... it might sound a bit glamorous, but it isn't, because I need certain things here that I don't have! I should also say that my short-term memory is a bit under stress, because jumping from one thing to another at such a relentless pace is exhausting: it really takes it out of you, mentally and physically.

I think one thing completes the other: I can't really think of myself as a singer-songwriter, and maybe that also ties into the whole "Pretty and Unsafe" idea; it's also my way of making music: I can't concentrate everything into writing my own songs and performing and interpreting them. I get a huge amount out of interpreting and arranging John's pieces, or True Spirit's, or writing melodies over Dining Rooms tracks. In a way, one thing feeds the other.

So for now I'll keep going like this until I collapse. (we laugh)

Has it ever happened that you were forced to say no to someone?

Yes. It's an awful feeling, I don't like saying no. I've said no, maybe, to musicians who aren't very well known but who I think are very talented, but I was going through a period when I couldn't take on these things either.

One curiosity: several numbers appear in the artwork...

Maybe there's some symbolism in those numbers.

This artwork comes from some watercolors I had made and from collages I made with pieces of stickers for tapes, you know, for the masters in the recording studio. Giovanni (Ferrario of Micevice) had left them here, they were a bunch of abandoned labels in a little box, and I wanted to use them, make them part of my drawings. Putting the booklet together, I then realized that in the end there was a small sense to what I had put together.

There's a 9 and a 0 on the eyebrow of my cover artwork, and on the t-shirt it says "Miedo", which in Spanish means "fear, dread", and one of the emotions I talk about on the record is fear, so I made the connection a bit unintentionally. Then there are these stickers that say "Not for production", a negation of the finished, the concluded.

I never like asking about individual tracks, but I get the impression that "Faded Bloom" is a song you're very attached to.

Actually, no more than the others. It describes an experience that goes back to my childhood. It happened when I was little, a strange incident that occurred in the Sila Forest, in Calabria, a really dense forest, one of those serious ones, that look like something out of a fairy tale, or a nightmare.

We were all kids, all little cousins, and we were with this boy, a family friend, who was in charge of protecting that part of the forest, and he'd taken us into the woods on a horse-drawn cart. Unfortunately the cart overturned on the edge of a small ravine and we rolled down, stopped by the trees, and we were rescued by this tribe of nomads camping in the heart of the forest. It was a really strange experience for us kids — I was five or six — and then we were taken in by these nomads who lived like nomads in the seventies, inside a forest. They were very hospitable, I remember they offered us sugared almonds and we played with their children. They had a somewhat unsettling look about them: they were Eastern European gypsies, toothless, straight out of classic Roma iconography.

But it was a beautiful experience because we ended up becoming friends and went back to visit them other times.

For me it was a very intense experience, and I wanted to describe their joy. They were people who lived by their wits, yet they welcomed us with an incredible humanity, an incredible comfort. That's why I feel attached to this song.

But maybe "Pretty and Unsafe" is the song I'm most attached to, a song that's perhaps about me, perhaps about many other women, and that asks why it feels so bad to always want so much, why it's painful to want so much, to want to live so many experiences, when there's always a small price to pay in the end.

Last question. The videos for your songs have been uploaded to your Myspace, but they won't be shown on TV.

No. … I hadn't thought about it… These videos were lovingly made by Michelangelo Russo (the trumpet player of True Spirit, from Berlin with clear Italian roots).

I'm really attached to the one for "Little Gods", I love it a lot. Maybe it's more of an installation.

From a technical point of view they could be adapted, they were shot on film, so there shouldn't be a problem. But I hadn't thought about it, to tell you the truth.

Marta, I think I've asked you everything. Will we talk again soon?

Yes. Anyway, I'll be in Milan in a couple of weeks. I'll call you.

(February 20, 2007)

The photos of Marta Collica were taken by Fabio Stefanini and used courtesy of the photographer.

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