Good morning Umberto. First of all, thank you on behalf of the entire OndaRock editorial team for sharing this moment with us. Your paths had already crossed with OndaRock back in February 2010, for an interview granted on the occasion of the release of "Ingrediente Novus", a best of featuring your tracks rearranged for the occasion. What has changed in you, if anything has changed, between then and now?
Umberto has changed, yes, exactly like everyone else, because the world has transformed enormously over these thirteen years. The world hasn't changed in form, but in meaning, and as a result I've changed too. The musical landscape has changed as well, and anyone who makes music in a way similar to mine has been, and still is, influenced by everything going on around them, even if artistically I believe I've still kept the image and awareness that has always defined me. That said, I can only acknowledge all the objective social, environmental, economic and ethical shifts that have developed in the meantime. To give a tangible example that touches everyone without exception, social networks have spread exponentially and, in my view, in a wholly negative way. We've become slaves to all these situations. Thirteen years ago that wasn't the case yet.
So you believe the web, social media, don't have any positive facets, any general usefulness within them?
No, absolutely not. It's not just me saying it, it's a matter of fact. The role of the network, of the Internet, even though it was conceived with commendable principles and, on paper, meant to bring only benefits, ends up, as always, like every invention or situation born from the human mind and thrown to humanity, being managed in a malicious way, entirely different from its original purpose. Let me give you an example. It's as if I invented a new food, a universal one, that could simply be created from the molecules in the air — I'm really just picking a random example. It would be an extraordinary creation. At first it would be seen purely and exclusively as a positive, useful discovery. But once it was put on humanity's plate, it would certainly be diverted, contaminated in some way, to the point of definitely producing negative consequences. And that's what the Net is like: it has destroyed our society. This stupid illusion that we're all equal. A universal piece of foolishness that mankind chose to impose on itself through globalization, and the results are bearing witness to that. We are not all equal, and that's a good thing. Globalization was supposed to bring us total connection, with the possibility of instant communication, making us all more alike. It has failed spectacularly. We've isolated ourselves, we've become more hostile, more different. It's true, we can all be materially connected in a second, but it's not a real connection. Our brains are fried. Just take a smartphone out of someone's hands and, after a week, they risk suicide. How can they live without a phone? Let's be clear, myself included.
Human progress should be measured in the scientific field – for example in medicine, applied to treating illness, or in physics and astronomy, where mankind has made unimaginable advances. Beyond that, technology has done nothing but push human beings a long way backwards. Everyone's got a phone in their hand, but not everyone is capable of, say, growing themselves a vegetable garden to produce something to eat. People aren't even able to light a fire anymore. Any one of us, left in a forest, would be dead within two days. Human beings need to be repositioned according to what they're actually worth today, which is very little. In the hierarchy of our planet, which is brutally sick, the only ones who can aspire to occupy the top spot are animals, creatures we humiliate every single day. Human beings have never sunk as low as they have in this era.
How am I supposed to think otherwise in a country where the only things that matter are money and cocaine? Everything else takes a back seat. That's just how it is: the baker, the pharmacist, the head of the local police all use it in the same way, it's no longer confined to some small caste, and the funny thing is that everyone seems fine with it. We're witnessing a state of general malaise that causes everyday disasters most people don't even notice, let alone ask themselves what's triggering them. These days the average Italian would sell out their own family for an extra hundred euros.
And let's not even get started on the ruling class. Over the last few decades we've had a crude, second-rate political class, starting with the left, which through sheer, culpable incompetence has driven the population towards the right. As a result, we can't help but be a mirror of our own society.
Sorry for the long digression, but going back to your question, you'll have understood by now that in my view, over the last thirteen years, we've taken too many steps backwards, extremely dangerous ones. We need a global reset.
Let's talk about your new album, “Mondo e antimondo”, which came out just a few days ago.
“Mondo e antimondo” is a very classic record, in the sense that it was built following conventional methods. These days there's always an attempt to wrongfoot and surprise the listener with all sorts of gimmicks, often pretty cheap ones. You just have to look at what's going on in today's music scene. Against the grain of everything and everyone, mine is a very simple album, one I recognise myself in quite well.
At this point, after your heartfelt preamble on the current state of things, the title you've given the album takes on an even clearer, decidedly symptomatic meaning. Judging by the lyrics of the title track too, it seems you wanted to reference all the contradictions of the modern age?
That's absolutely true, I can confirm it. I chose the title “Mondo e antimondo” precisely to symbolise the fact that life has taken that turn today. Everything has become the opposite of everything else. What until a few years ago seemed implicitly positive has now become its opposite. Now everyone cheers for the opposite. Nobody knows why. All values have gone to hell. Everyone feels entitled to do whatever they like, even the most wrong-headed things. The funny thing is that whoever commits terrible, ill-fated acts will sooner or later find someone to say that, in the end, what they did isn't really so bad. There's always some mitigating excuse to be found for everything. If I stabbed a child in the eye, out of a hundred people you'd certainly find twelve, eighteen, who'd say: sure, he stabbed a child or a girl, but every now and then you've got to get rid of these kids too, maybe he needed the blood for cooking, or maybe he was testing out a new brand of knives. That's how it is. Today everything has become the opposite of everything. And we don't push back. We watch the worst things happen and react by thinking that's just how the world is now. Well, “Mondo e antimondo” portrays exactly that condition. I'm aware it's decidedly provocative, and I'd be a hypocrite not to admit it, but that's exactly what I wanted it to convey. It's obviously a subjective view. I don't want to convince anyone, but being an artist is also a way to communicate your own ideas, and I won't deny that.
As usual, your albums and songs reveal a certain obsessiveness in the writing and in the final execution. Even on this latest LP there's a clear will to present a product polished down to the smallest detail, both in content and in sound. How did “Mondo e antimondo” come about?
“Mondo e antimondo”, believe it or not, is a record born from the ashes of a work that, in the end, I decided not to release.
A project you shelved because you weren't happy with the final result?
No. I scrapped it because I made the mistake of overworking it. It had taken on the shape of something I felt was already outdated, already digested. So I took it and, for now, shelved it, even though it was ready for release. We'll see what happens with it in the future. In any case, I didn't use any ideas from that record in making “Mondo e antimondo”. These things happen. You have to acknowledge it and have the courage to face situations like this when necessary, and decide accordingly.
With this choice you confirm that you're an artist with no fixed standards or imposed deadlines.
I'm a very emotional, sensitive person, and decidedly critical of myself. Had I carried on in that direction, I would have released a record that no longer represented who I was at that moment. To me a record is still a work of art. Once you release it, it stays that way forever, and so that unusual feeling I had – unfortunately a very real one – led me to the decision to dramatically reject it, going along with the reactions I was having at the time. I started everything over from scratch, and I'll tell you that the decision to open myself up to a new record came fairly quickly. I still belong to the camp of those who believe a record should be created and released when the author, or authors, feel the need to do it, without worrying about how many years have passed since the previous work, whether many or few. A perfect example of this is Alberto Ferrari of Verdena, who can quite happily let an indeterminate number of years go by between one record and the next.
And I'll add this too. In Italy there's a huge problem that practically nobody talks about: money. Many artists, not all of them thankfully, make records solely and exclusively out of need for money, not for any other, more admirable necessity. Not to mention the world of featuring. Records full of collaborations, touted as genuine artistic sharing and exchange, when really they're just gimmicks to sell more and keep the record labels happy.
You usually handle both the music and the lyrics of your compositions yourself. Following up on what we just discussed, this new album instead features several collaborations, such as the one with Cristiano Godano, Maestro Floriano Bocchino and Marco Marzo Maracas, with whom you'd already worked on the Pineda project. How did these come about, and how did you handle them?
As I told you before, I can't stand featuring credits, which are so fashionable in Italy, especially right now. The guest appearances on my record have nothing to do with that kind of logic. They're collaborations born first and foremost out of friendship, with people I care about. Of course the artistic weight of whoever gets invited onto one of my records carries a very specific meaning, but it starts from other premises that I consider far more important. Everything else comes after.
You arrived at this work after surprisingly resurrecting the Moltheni persona in 2020 with the album "Senza eredità". How much might that adventure, that unexpected decision, have influenced the writing of "Mondo e antimondo"?
That record brought together all the tracks from the Moltheni era that had never made it onto an album, like some B-sides or songs I performed live that a lot of fans kept asking me to finally put on a record. So we took the liberty of gathering all those tracks together on "Senza eredità". In any case, the new album wasn't influenced in any way by the decision to release a new Moltheni record. First of all because Moltheni died artistically in 2010, and secondly because that record had the sole purpose of satisfying fans and their requests. It was also a nice opportunity to bring back some collaborators who had shaped and defined that era. There's no connection whatsoever between the Moltheni project and Umberto Maria Giardini's path. They're two completely independent realities, and quite distant from one another too.
I've always wondered about this, and this is the best chance to clear up any doubt. From what you just said, it seems you're confirming that the two paths should really be considered as two firmly separate artists.
They are. They really are.
What were the real reasons that led you to decide to end your path as Moltheni and begin the one under your own name?
There's only one: money. There's a point in Moltheni's career, around 2009, which I won't shy away from calling the peak of that journey, when the people I call sharks, vultures, started circling around me. I was hugely let down by producers and collaborators. The work I'd built up over time was being contaminated by situations that were miles away from what I actually wanted, to the point where I decided to shut the project down for good. Personal principles that I held then, and still hold, as sacred and untouchable were being eroded. It had become something I no longer recognized, and yet I was the one who had to manage it and keep it going. Working and planning methods that were no longer what I'd envisioned. I've always worked the way things were done in past decades, up through the 90s, and that's where I stopped. Going beyond that, with different methods and different goals, wasn't for me. To me, being a musician, a singer-songwriter, still means picking up paper, pen, guitar, and spending long, long hours in the studio, in rehearsal rooms. Hours and hours, days and days of work. That's my world. Too many people were circling my dying carcass, which was actually alive and well, enjoying solid visibility and a certain economic importance. So I shut up shop. I fired myself. I'm the first one responsible for what happened, since I was the one who chose to surround myself with those musicians, those producers - some of whom went on to become very important and famous, others less so, because without me holding the whole thing together, they were never able to achieve anything significant again. I found it right, for my own sake, to question everything all over again. That's where the decision to end the Moltheni project came from.
In your lyrics you often refer to nature and to the primordial essence of the most practical actions that have shaped human existence. These references seem very strong in you.
I come from a Nordic cultural background, and by Nordic I don't mean Bergamo. In Nordic culture, respect and the way nature is viewed are quite different elements from how they're perceived in Italy. This is a feeling that has always accompanied me, and in some ways it's even become stronger. It's only natural that these concepts keep resurfacing in my compositions, because they're part of who I am. So yes, I absolutely confirm that.
In "Re", the track chosen to precede the album's release, as often happens in your work, you evoke visions from the past - it almost feels like you want to exorcise a present that doesn't convince you.
"Re" is a kind of somewhat rigid prayer about the idea that human beings should be brought back down to essentials. It's almost a mantra, delivered in a way that recalls Giovanni Lindo Ferretti a little. It's a pretext for reclaiming the simple things that belonged to people in past eras. Praying, working, having expectations about something that won't necessarily come true, bringing us back to a more human kind of life compared to the one we have now.
The video accompanying the track also evokes all these concepts.
Exactly. The video is deliberately very simple, shot outdoors. Just think, it cost only 700 euros, which confirms the underlying idea that needed to come through in the images as well.
In your lyrics, you manage to be communicative without necessarily having to spell everything out in an obvious way.
I'm convinced that art has to be translated. The real translation is the one each individual perceives, so there are millions of them. I like working this way, letting my ideas be carried by my lyrics, but leaving every listener free to draw their own conclusions, without it necessarily having to be seen in just one way.
You've always dodged the label of standard-bearer of Italian indie pop-rock. In truth, though, that's exactly what you are, it's a matter of fact. What does it mean today to still proudly carry the banner of someone who has never bowed to the star system, continuing to put forward your own message and your own music without outside interference, with an enviable consistency?
Standard-bearer of independent music? That's not really my issue. If anything, I don't consider it very important. Anyone who knows me knows I've always held the view that, at least in Italy, musicians should be brought down a peg. Italian audiences have a distorted view. I don't know if the public is easily swayed or simply so blind that it fails to notice that a musician is essentially just a person like anyone else, to put it mildly. I've always been firmly convinced that musicians should necessarily be repositioned for what they really are, in a truer, more realistic light.
Is that a view you've come to recently, or have you always thought this way?
I've always thought this way, and over the years that awareness has only grown. I see out there that people - and maybe they do it with me too - foolishly idealize whatever musicians say.
There are artists whose main communicative goal is exactly that.
True. The problem is that everyone out there ends up believing it. I obviously can't name names, but I know the Italian music scene very, very well, and we're talking about genuine icons here too. I can tell you, and confirm, that it's all a bluff, and the audience hasn't understood a thing. They don't notice anything at all. It's enough for them to see someone singing and shouting, and that person - and whatever they say - gets carved in stone like it's the tablets of Moses.
The melodies of your songs are always suspended in a kind of limbo that builds a great, magnetic anticipation, with wide-ranging references drawn from folk, from 70s hard-progressive, obviously from 90s indie-rock, and that ever-present touch of your beloved psychedelia. The new track "Andromeda" is a very clear example of this. Across its seven-plus minutes, on a psychedelic journey that's at times dark and enigmatic, you unfurl a hermetic, intense and captivating lyric. I was especially struck by the line: “Tartaruga vita mia rallentami/ Allontanami da chi mi chiede/ Di guardarti andare via”.
That line you're quoting starts from a fundamental feature of my life, one I'm extremely proud of. I love knowing that a part of me travels slowly and tries to stay tied to its roots.
Am I wrong, or do the songs on the album almost never have a happy ending?
That's just part of who I am. My discography has always been steeped in melancholy. And melancholy always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
In "Muro contro muro" you tackle the theme of love in an entirely personal way, as usual with rare elegance and depth, in a track I consider among the best on the record.
It's a song about a gay love, between two men who love each other, but one is much younger than the other, and that's where all the difficulties and obstacles come from that keep them from living out that powerful feeling in peace.
A song that, in melody and content, would have held its own in a setting like the Sanremo Festival. Would you go back after more than twenty years? Have you ever tried to enter again?
No, I wouldn't go back. Sanremo isn't the kermesse many people think it is anymore. Sanremo doesn't work the way it did many years ago. I tried to take part in 2013, but Francesco Sarcina was chosen instead of me. As things stand now, I wouldn't even dream of going back to the Festival, it would just be a waste of time. I know exactly how those dynamics work today, and there's no room for someone like me. Besides, I don't write songs with the goal of entering competitions, festivals, or various awards. That world doesn't interest me in the slightest. Even now plenty of people tell me that if I'd released "Mondo e antimondo" earlier in the year, I might have been in the running for some kind of recognition, the kind everyone knows about. I couldn't care less about that stuff. I give the right amount of importance to other things.
If I think about who took part in that Festival alongside you back in 2000: Tiromancino, Riccardo Sinigallia, Subsonica, Samuele Bersani, Max Gazzè, Alice, Avion Travel, Carmen Consoli, among others.
My friend, we're talking about a different world altogether. It's like thinking about tribes on the savannah. That era will never come back.
So, do you think the current situation isn't just a cycle, the way things tend to go in phases? Do you think the mainstream of Italian music will stay locked into its current state for a long time?
I'm not optimistic at all. The real market, the one that moves real money, is aimed exclusively at people under 26. I'm not joking. Anyone over 26 doesn't register on the listening figures anymore. For the Italian record industry, the audience over 26 isn't even a target - it's worth nothing. It's simply not taken into consideration. The major labels are complicit with the talent shows. So it's a fact. In the music industry's economic landscape, only the audience up to 26 years old gets tracked. We keep trying to force this idea of modernity that isn't actually real. That's not how it works. Let me give you a simple example. In Germany, if you walk through the streets of any city, concerts of every kind are still advertised on billboards. In Italy that's not the case. You have to get it into your head that in order to move forward, you sometimes need to look backward. I'm not saying we should all suddenly start listening to Toto Cutugno. I mean that for a broader vision, and to build a meaningful future, you need to look to the past, to reassess even the most ordinary things, with the right spirit. We've abandoned them because we're told they're out of fashion. It's like following an algorithm to make a soffritto. The world keeps turning even without these things. Wine is still made the same way it was hundreds of years ago. Technology should help refine production methods, not replace them entirely. We've gone too far. We've completely lost our bearings.
Do you see a new Umberto Maria Giardini/Moltheni anywhere on the Italian music scene?
No. Unfortunately not. Maybe there is one, but I haven't noticed.
With hindsight, judging your artistic journey today, do you think Umberto Maria Giardini deserved bigger success than he's had so far?
No. I believe that, given how things have evolved over the years and the decisions made at the time, I can consider myself both personally and artistically satisfied with my path, which has never involved compromise.
What albums have you listened to recently that struck you the most?
Please, don't ask me that. I have no idea about anything. I just keep going on my own path, which I think, by the way, is drawing to a close. I'm fifty-five years old, and honestly I don't see myself still on stage in ten years, so I'm trying to make the most of my last shots.
Are you about to go on tour following the new album?
Yes. The dates came out a few days ago. The tour will kick off in Turin on January 25, 2024, then continue through various cities. For now, between February and March the lineup includes shows in Verona, Bologna, Florence, Genoa, Rome, Pescara and Milan, but we're hoping to add more.
Congratulations again on your new work, which is always a privilege to enjoy. Thank you for the time you've given us, and see you next time.
Thank you, it was a pleasure. Warm regards to the whole editorial team.
(24/12/2023)
***
| The new ingredient
by Marco Lo Giudice
Hi Umberto, thanks for spending some of your time with OndaRock. Sincere compliments for what you've done and what you're doing. Nowadays the concept of a "Best of" is often tied to purely commercial needs. The choice to rearrange some of your past tracks for "Ingrediente Novus" makes it a pleasant exception. The older tracks in particular seem stripped of everything, as if only the expressive root of the words and music were left standing. Is there perhaps an intimate desire to give a new, more conscious meaning to your past? What are, generally speaking, the reasons behind this release? "Ingrediente Novus" could only have been conceived this way. We would never have made a "best of" precisely because the underlying idea didn't interest us. "Best of" albums have always been sad, convenient ventures for scraping together money through further sales of the same product; we preferred to give the songs a new form, also as a way of giving longtime fans something that went beyond the tracks they already knew.
Compared to the original versions, "In centro all'orgoglio" is - in my opinion - the track that's most disorienting: it has the intensity of a caress. How did this new arrangement come about? It came about with the idea of undressing it, of making it as bare as it was when it was first conceived years ago. Nothing more than that...
Which track on "Ingrediente Novus" represents you most right now? I mean the track that just by mentioning it makes you feel like you're standing in front of a mirror... There isn't a track that makes me feel like I'm standing in front of a mirror. I love listening to some of the new arrangements, like the ones for "Montagna nera" and "La fine della discografia italiana"... but overall I'm very satisfied with the finished work.
You're rightly considered one of the most delicate and introverted artists on the Italian scene. And yet you close the album with a stab of social criticism aimed at Italy ("Per carità di stato"). De Gregori's irony in "Viva l'Italy" undergoes a sort of disillusioned, resigned revision: De Gregori sang of "l'Italia che non muore" [the Italy that doesn't die], while you close the track with "io sono l'Italia che muore" [I am the Italy that's dying]. Is it already too late to change anything? Is music still capable of carrying social messages? Music can no longer cleanse people's consciences; we live in an age of widespread apathy, where everyone is aware of what's happening but nobody lifts a finger. I still remember a morning years ago when my girlfriend at the time told me that many "disobbedienti" activists hadn't voted against Article 18 because the night before they'd gone to bed too late. I don't think it's too late to change something - I think nobody is capable of it.
Your music and lyrics seem to translate the concept of "suspension" into art: a sort of eternal state of waiting, made explicit in some of your lyrics too ("Il bowling o il sesso?"). Do you recognize yourself in this analysis? Does it represent you, a particular phase of your life, or is it a description of the human condition in general? I honestly don't know...
Is it wrong to consider you an example of the equation quality music = niche music? In other words: is low visibility a necessary condition for making good work, or are there - in your view - factors (economic, cultural...) that nowadays prevent a proposal like yours from reaching a wide audience? Quality music maybe doesn't mean anything to me anymore; the highest-quality music is whatever each of us personally likes... It's an absolute value, but still an individual one. I, for instance, am convinced I've listened to the best music of the last 22 years, but that only holds true for me. I also believe every kind of music is a child of its own era; the one I'm living in today isn't mine, or maybe it isn't the most suited to me. Numbers don't matter - life does.
The state of the Italian record industry is pretty much on its last legs, especially when it comes to the questionable world of the majors. Your path has taken you from the multinationals to the independent scene. Do you feel at ease with La Tempesta? This label is a happy reality partly because of artistic choices that don't seek compromise. Can betting on sincerity and quality be a new starting point for music in Italy? La Tempesta is a good label, run by an honest person named Enrico Molteni, full stop. I've mostly felt relaxed with them, and partly understood, even though I'm not an easy person, at least from certain points of view tied to work. I couldn't say whether the sincerity and courage that has always set La Tempesta Dischi apart can save Italian music - all I see around our country's music is blindness. I don't see any starting point, because there's no shared goal.
You've often described yourself as a supporter of the new American folk music. It seems to me that this comes through in your songwriting, but especially in the intimacy and delicacy of your approach. In that sense, solitary projects like Justin Vernon's (Bon Iver) or Will Oldham's (Bonnie “Prince” Billy) resemble yours. Is that a comparison you like? I'm not fond of comparisons, and I really don't think I resemble anyone — that would be too good, too curious and too useful for me. My music has, and is subject to, considerable influences from American folk of recent years, but the highest aspiration in my work comes from vision and from thought. I've written more than one album inspired by a photograph. In more than one interview you've confessed your love for Northern Europe, and Sweden in particular. Is there something in your music deeply tied to those lands? No. “Ingrediente Novus” is also the result of several collaborations: Ilenia Volpe, Mauro Pagani, Vasco Brondi, Massimo Martellotti, Enrico Gabrielli… A cliché that you manage to turn into delicate, passionate contributions that deepen the emotional tension of your songs: how did you go about choosing the people to bring into the studio with you? They were targeted choices; some dictated by the simple, sincere need to have close by people I consider excellent professionals, others inspired and suggested by friendship and by the desire to share something with artistically lesser-known figures. The DVD accompanying the release of the collection captures two live souls (electric and acoustic), tells the story of these ten years through the images of the videos, and is above all enriched by the short film “Il frutto del fiume”. As I see it, here too you manage to get to the ultimate meaning of the human, which finds itself “where man is of no use”. Will we ever go back to understanding that we come from the silence of nature, and that that's where we'll return?No… nature has drifted too far from man, the lost ground can no longer be recovered. Man will never be in harmony with nature the way an animal is. In my view, the human being can no longer even be considered a mammal. The only thing that still binds us to mother nature is perhaps death; that is, the only form of purification from the sin of being human. It's nothingness that makes us one with everything again… that's where we go back to being close to, or even the very same thing as, nature.
These ten years are marked by a strong and constant artistic growth, culminating in “I segreti del corallo”. Does “Ingrediente Novus” still fit into that trajectory, is it a kind of small parenthesis, or does it close a chapter? Do you feel you've given definitive shape to your style? Do you already have a clear plan for the future? “Ingrediente Novus” definitely closes a cycle, a period in which I pretended to be everyone's best friend, but in which I was actually observing and counting the rotten atoms hiding inside the coats of the Italian music scene. The future holds wonderful things in store for me, both musical and otherwise. Honestly, I have/don't/have nothing/something in mind, but it doesn't matter. (01/02/2010) *** Songs in the shadow Moltheni is smiling, cheerful, relaxed, kind and in a good mood. Even though it's lunchtime, he sips a tea while constantly keeping an eye on the clock resting on the table... “Sorry, but I really have to go at one” So, since we're short on time, instead of asking you the usual questions, let me just satisfy my own curiosity. All right. “Gli Occhi di Mara Cagol” (Mara Cagol, a Red Brigades activist in the 1970s. Involved in the kidnapping of Villarino Gancia, she was killed by police during the operation to free the hostage, ed.). A short instrumental track that opens the album. It sounds more like a tribute than a provocation. Umberto Giardini's eyes are killing me, his expression changes and becomes fierce and accusatory. What can I say? I've put too much sugar in my tea. It's true. You don't want to comment? Not really. But it's true, I confirm it, it is. Can I include it in the interview or would you rather it didn't appear? Absolutely. His expression returns to the relaxed one from the start. Thank goodness. Scary! It seems that before “Splendore Terrore” you recorded an album that was never released. “Forma Mentis”. It's an album recorded in the spring of 2004, which was supposed to come out on a well-known Milan label. Nothing ever came of it. I delivered the record basically finished, they kept postponing it to the following week, then the following month, then the following month, then the following month; eventually I realized they were stringing me along, and the album stayed in the drawer. Then when I met the Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti, we talked about the record we could release on their label (La Tempesta, which also released |||Freccina in Giù||| by Giorgio Canali, ed.): I wrote the album (referring to “Splendore Terrore”, ed.) in three weeks.
In fact, you wrote the album in three weeks and recorded and mixed it in six days. (He thinks) Was it already there in some way, was it already all in your head? No! I'm not saying it to boast, if anything it's a bit of self-criticism that I'm somehow directing at myself, looking in the mirror, because anyway... it might not be decisive, but it's very important to let things mature before bringing them into the world. I really like the spontaneity that sometimes characterizes me, even with the price I inevitably end up paying for it afterwards. With "Splendore Terrore" it was a quick, immediate thing, thought out and discussed. It was something I cared about a lot, and it all came out very naturally. There are two or three songs I wrote in a single afternoon. Some things I already had in mind, but I'd left them there, humming them in my head. Then, when we got this verbal agreement with Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti, I got down to work, also spurred on by this new opportunity I'd been given, and I managed to bring it all out in a short time. Another little provocation of mine (hoping you won't kill me again): Cyclope, Bmg, La Tempesta. Given the current climate in Italy, that's not a good sign. No. It's not a good sign. It's not a good sign from the outside. For the peace of mind I'm looking for from a work standpoint, it's an ideal situation, because both La Tempesta and Venus (La Tempesta releases it, Venus distributes it, ed.), in their simplicity, have given me everything I was looking for. Right now I don't want anything more to do with major labels and big contracts, unless in the future the right conditions arise for something serious to flourish. For now this is fine, I'm satisfied. Would you take part in Sanremo again? In 2000 you actually did pretty well (I believe he placed fifth in the newcomers section, ed.). Yes, it went well, but you know, there are also particular moments in life. In my, let's call it, artistic maturation... anyway, frankly I don't think about it much. You don't think about it, or you really don't want to go at all? No, no. I don't think about it. It could happen again in the future, but there would have to be a lot of conditions in place, especially from a stylistic point of view. I mean, I'd want the freedom to present whatever I feel like. And then you'd also have to have a chance of being accepted by the judges who, well... they're always very hidebound. Especially this year. Don't even get me started! We've taken huge steps backwards, especially on the youth front. I was glad to see Nicola Arigliano at the Sanremo Festival. Maybe he'll even sing a beautiful love song, why not? But when it comes to the "young artists" side of things, we're in pretty bad shape, let's be honest. And what about L'Isola dei Famosi? (That look again) Why are you looking at me like that? I mean… In what sense? If you were asked, would you go on Isola dei Famosi? No. See? It wasn't such a hard question. No. Back to "Splendore Terrore". A lot of people are calling this your "mature album". Considering it's your third record, I'd say that's about right on schedule. Here we are. Sure. Here we are. A few things have changed. The first thing I noticed was the titles: "Natura in Replay", "Fiducia in un Nulla Migliore" and now "Splendore Terrore". It seems like you're making an effort to see life in a positive light, even though the lyrics aren't exactly all that positive. Yeah, that's also part of my character. It's well known that my writing style is particularly shadowy. I feel drawn to working more on the darker corners of what the Italian indie scene has to offer. But it's also just my way of writing. I don't consider myself, like some people think, particularly pessimistic or anything like that. I just have this artistic vision that sets me apart a bit, that inevitably belongs to me, no point denying it, that makes me feel at home with certain themes, certain sounds. I might come across as depressed, but actually I see the future, including my own artistic future, as brighter than it seems. The tones have changed too. Definitely. There's been a pretty drastic shift with this "Splendore Terrore". But it's not something that was calculated all that much: we had little money, little time. The album was written, like I told you before, over a very short stretch of time. It just came out that way, I wanted to make a noir record, elegant, more "vincentgalliano" than "afterhoursian". I got a bit tired of these labels, so I wanted to make a record that was mine, one that worked more on the shadows than the light, even if the glimmers of light in "Splendore Terrore" shine so brightly, in my opinion, that they illuminate the total darkness in the basic greyness running through the whole album. The bell on the cover. It gives me a positive feeling. Is it ringing out in celebration? No. Oh come on! (if only I'd gotten one right in this interview!) No. Absolutely not! If anything, some people tell me this bell is quite unsettling. But I like it! (bordering on desperation, by now) And I do too, I like it a ton. Simply put, among my many passions there's also one for bells. Purely as an object. It's not tied to any ideological discourse, nor a religious one: I'm a committed non-believer. I like it as an object, also tied to the tradition of 19th-century bell foundries, because so many of them disappeared in the 1900s. We did some research with Sara Nina Brugnolo at the Archiginnasio in Bologna, we found an image we liked, and a close-up of this bell seemed like the best choice for this record. We didn't think twice about it. So it's something strictly personal. Definitely. In fact, look, I don't want to say something heretical, but the cover is far more autobiographical than the album itself. I was told you listen to heavy metal. Were they pulling my leg? Not really heavy metal, but hard rock, yes. I like hard rock a lot, yes. Is that a disappointment? No, not at all. Why? I don't want to pay myself an unearned compliment, but I consider myself, on the verge of turning forty, a great connoisseur of music, so I have a considerable musical culture. Instead of being a musician or a firefighter, which is, well, my actual job, I could easily have been a music journalist. So I have countless loves tied to psychedelia, hard rock, even a bit of metal. I also go through periods, phases. Right now I'm particularly drawn to projects mostly from across the Atlantic, when it comes to somewhat solitary singer-songwriters, with slightly bluesy sounds rooted in folk tradition, you know, that whole circle around Devendra Banhart, Christina Carter, Iron & Wine, whom I adore, Vincent Gallo and many other figures. I like to range from the music of Burt Bacharach to Elvis Costello, to projects tied to Calexico as well, with Friends Of Dean Martinez, with the Giant Sand of Howe Gelb. I really touch on a lot of musical genres, always with care and professional rigor. I'm the kind of person who might put on a CD while cooking, but I end up paying more attention to the CD than to what I'm cooking (we laugh) and I risk burning the meal, yet I'll notice exactly when the bass line changes in track number 5. Do you have time for one more question? (He looks at the clock on the table) Yes. The other instrumental tracks. Aside from. the one we've. already mentioned. "Gli Occhi di Mara Cagol". Right, that one. I'll tell you this: anyone who knows me knows that every one of my records has some instrumental track, and it wasn't even planned, but on my first two albums the instrumental pieces were actually, in my opinion, the ones that best represented the album. Musically speaking, I mean. I'm also extremely attached, purely as a matter of personal taste, to a lot of bands on the international instrumental scene. Tortoise are one of my favorite bands, but with them we're talking about trigonometry, they come close to perfection. I love Tortoise. Plus Friends Of Dean Martinez, there are so many international projects that I love. Going back to what I said about the ease with which I wrote this record, so with no pressure weighing on me, I wanted to allow myself the satisfaction of putting in as many instrumental tracks as I could. Wherever there was no need to write words, lyrics, because the pieces were already complete as they were. Maybe it meant taking something away from the solemnity of the moment, so from "Gli Occhi di Mara Cagol" to "Tatana" to "Tutta la Bellezza dell'Istinto Materno degli Animali" to "Bue", these are tracks that came out that way and were perfect just as they were, in my opinion. You said that, for this record, you didn't feel any pressure. But what about all the attention you're getting, especially from the so-called "industry insiders"? . Don't you feel it? I'd say no. But I don't think there's much attention on me. From whom, exactly? Let's invite them to dinner, right away! (laughs) Come on, even though La Tempesta is a small label, because objectively it is and it's also just starting out, you're still getting great reviews and it seems like the album was quite anticipated and is doing rather well too. Definitely yes. But maybe it's more of an impression than an actual fact. In the sense that every record of mine has always been very well received, maybe because, vainly perhaps, I still have something to say. But in the end, not even that much, you know. The attention directed at me is exactly the same as what's directed at a whole lot of other projects. Actually, sometimes, I won't say always, sometimes I'd deserve a tiny bit more where it counts. But I'm happy. The interview ends here, as we get dressed again and talk about how good we are at burning frozen food and about his upcoming collaboration on the next Marta Sui Tubi album. (Milan, Iron Caffè, 2005) |
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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Cristiano Orlando, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.
| MOLTHENI | ||
| Natura In Replay (Cyclope/Bmg, 1999) | 7 | |
| Fiducia Nel Nulla Migliore (Cyclope/Bmg, 2001) | 7.5 | |
| Splendore Terrore (La Tempesta/Venus, 2005) | 7 | |
| Toilette memoria (La Tempesta/Venus, 2006) | 6.5 | |
| Io non sono come te (Ep, La Tempesta/Venus, 2006) | 6 | |
| I segreti del corallo (La Tempesta, 2008) | 7 | |
| Ingrediente Novus (La Tempesta, 2009) | 7.5 | |
| Senza eredità (La Tempesta, 2020) | 7 | |
| UMBERTO MARIA GIARDINI | ||
| La dieta dell'Imperatrice (La Tempesta, 2012) | 7 | |
| Ognuno di noi è un po' Anticristo (Ep, Woodworm, 2013) | 6 | |
| Protestantesima (La Tempesta/Woodworm, 2015) | 6 | |
| Futuro Proximo (La Tempesta, 2017) | 6.5 | |
| Forma Mentis (Ala Bianca, 2019) | 7.5 | |
| Domus Meas (EP, La Tempesta, 2023) | 7 | |
| Mondo e antimondo (La Tempesta, 2023) | 7 | |
| Dio come alibi (EP, Tuk Music, 2024) | 6 | |
| Olimpo diverso (La Tempesta, 2025) | 7.5 | |
| SELVA OSCURA | ||
| Selva Oscura (EP, Overdub, 2024) | 7 | |
| PINEDA | ||
| Pineda (DeAmbula, 2011) | 6 | |
| STELLA MARIS | ||
| Stella Maris (La Tempesta, 2017) | 6.5 |