One Dimensional Man - Post-hardcore fragments within Italian indie

interview by Claudio Lancia

Seven years after “A Better Man”, which itself came five years after the last of the band's four classic albums, Pierpaolo Capovilla puts his post-hardcore project One Dimensional Man back on the road, keeping intact all the rage of his youth. Capovilla has managed to emerge from the niche he came from, and today his words carry an even greater resonance, thanks to the visibility gained through the success of Il Teatro degli Orrori (where he expresses himself in Italian) and other projects straddling highbrow literature and noise excursions. The release of “You Don’t Exist” gives us the chance to meet him and dig deeper into the themes of the new album: the end of the American dream, the collapse of the Western democratic system, nostalgia for the old days turning into revenge. The memories of a key figure of the Italian scene of the '90s, who, he confesses, dreams of becoming a writer when he grows up...

Returns and languages

Hi Pierpaolo, welcome back — how does it feel, every now and then, to step back into the shoes of One Dimensional Man?

It feels like being thirty again.

A quick detour just to warm up a bit: One Dimensional Man and Uzeda were two bands that in the '90s managed to bring a certain way of making music to Italy — that Dischord/Touch & Go noise/post-hardcore attitude that later found followers here too. Was that a difficult path to take back then? Or was the audience of the '90s more receptive than today to that kind of proposal?

There's not the slightest doubt that in the '90s there was, in Italy, an audience that was not only highly receptive to a harsh, radical sound like the one you're describing, but actively craving it. Singing in English was, for me and for the vast majority of artists, simply the obvious choice. Besides, we all wanted to break out of the national scene, to be able to address an international audience. Uzeda and a few others managed to do it.

But at a certain point the need arose for you to express yourself in Italian...

It was a painful choice, but a winning one. I myself was deeply struck by our audience's reaction: finally the words of the songs went straight to the hearts of those listening, and that made all the difference. The affection and warmth that emerged around our songs was exactly what pushed the project towards a certain success.

There are two schools of thought in Italy: those who choose to sing in Italian, because they feel they have important things to say and want to be understood, and those who instead prefer English because it sounds better or because they aim at the international market. Then there's a third way, rarer, which is yours: opting for both solutions, perhaps with two separate projects. What do you think is the most appropriate choice today for an Italian rock artist?

I prefer the Italian language. But I'm also convinced that what matters most is the content, which shouldn't be lacking even when singing in English.

The fact is that many bands (Afterhours and Zen Circus are the first two that come to mind) only manage to achieve a certain level of recognition once they opt for singing in Italian…

Exactly. If you really think about it, rock or no rock, we're Italian and we live on this little patch of the planet we call Italy.

But all things considered, has choosing English given you any chances beyond our borders?

I'd say no. We're hoping for the future.

Do you have plans to play dates abroad to promote "You Don't Exist"?

We recorded and released the album precisely because we want to play beyond our borders. We have an overwhelming urge to travel, to engage with others, to discover, to learn. We're not looking for success, we're looking for adventure.

You don't exist

Let's get to the new album: what are the main themes you decided to address and explore this time?

War and the disintegration of the Western democratic system. With the dissolution of the Soviet Union, capitalism has cast aside every restraint, and shows itself for what it is and has always been: an unstoppable system of financial and territorial colonialism, as clearly demonstrated by the unpayable debt of less developed countries and the wars in the Middle East.

"You Don't Exist": why this title?

Because none of us truly exist. Each of us is defenseless in the face of the enormity of historical contradictions and the social processes underway. And if we can no longer steer our own existence toward some goal, then it means we don't exist, and if we do exist, we exist only to endure. We're no longer the protagonists of our own future, but victims of the present.

Musically it's a "meaner" record than the previous one, marking a return to a more uncompromising sonic dimension, the one of the early One Dimensional Man. The opening "Free Speech" delivers a great adrenaline rush right away, and toward the end the triptych "We Don't Need Freedom" / "Don't Leave Me Alone" / "Alcohol" is pure, undiluted energy! You've kept the anger of the old days intact…

The anger I carry inside is much, much bigger than before. Nostalgia for the old days has turned into vengeance. I can't stand eating plastic anymore. I want real food, healthy and nourishing.

“Don’t Leave Me Alone” feels almost like a cry for help, a shout thrown out at the world. But “We Don’t Need Freedom” is also a kind of proclamation. An artist as committed as you doesn’t pick words and titles at random…

“We Don’t Need Freedom” is actually a cover. It’s a song from 1981, taken from “Pagan Icons” by Saccharine Trust, SST Records. It sounds like it was written yesterday. It’s exactly what we call commitment that pushes me to rediscover that music, those records and those songs that shaped not only my path as a musician, but also my view of the world. I'm speaking for myself, but I'm sure I'm also speaking for the band as a whole, and I'd say too for the labels that have supported us, for the people who put on our shows, and for no small part of our audience.

There's no shortage of a more “atmospheric” track: “A Crying Shame”, with some lovely female backing vocals, sits right in the middle of the tracklist, and not by chance. Did you want to give this song a kind of central role in a record that's otherwise so tense, at times so violent?

We thought it was perhaps the perfect fit for the middle of the tracklist, both musically and narratively. The song talks about the indifference and apathy of our times, about a young man (though it could just as easily be an adult) who shuts himself away at home, in his devices, in psychiatric drugs, in himself; he no longer believes in anything, no longer reads books, no longer trusts his fellow man. Exactly as the system we live in wants it. The song closes with a call to class struggle.

I find that “You Don’t Exist” strikes a great balance between not wanting to come across as too extreme and not wanting to let down the longtime fans. Does that feeling ring true to you?

I'd say no. “You Don’t Exist” is an uncompromising record, in every respect. We didn't try to please or displease anyone. We wanted to be ourselves, all the way through.

“A Better Man” was a choral record, full of guests. This time you did almost everything as a trio. Where does this different approach come from? Was working alone something you wanted and pursued right from the start?

Yes, it was. We're a band that's perfectly self-sufficient. There could have been guests, but this time we didn't go looking for any.

The lineup no longer includes Luca Bottigliero on drums, replaced by Franz Valente of Teatro degli Orrori. Do you notice stylistic differences between the two?

Luca wasn't invited: we haven't even spoken to each other in years. That's fine as it is. I don't feel like getting into a breakdown of the stylistic differences between the two of them. I think Franz is the best rock drummer I've ever known. Franz is a guarantee, not only from an artistic and professional point of view, but also as a person and a friend. He's a partner in crime, a fellow traveler, a friend, a brother.

On guitar, meanwhile, we find Carlo Veneziano, a musician who's already worked with you in the past in One Dimensional Man. Do the songs usually come from one particular person, or do they grow out of teamwork?

Carlo comes back after a very long absence: he only played in the band on “Take Me Away”, and a lot of time has passed since then. Actually, the idea of getting active again was his and Franz's. The two of them are very close friends. When they asked me if I felt like putting myself back on the line with One Dimensional Man, I didn't think about it for even a minute, and I said yes. I want to thank them, because this reunion makes me feel good, and it tells me that nothing you've done in the past was pointless — quite the opposite, everything has its own continuity, one way or another.

On the closing track you recite the list of Presidents of the United States: is that a way of saying that the men and values of the past (save for a few rare exceptions) no longer exist? It's jarring to go, within just a few minutes, from naming a Washington, a Lincoln or a Roosevelt to Nixon and the two Bushes…

And let's not forget Kennedy. And let's not forget that the most warmongering President in US history was the Nobel Peace Prize winner Barack Obama: even though he inherited most of those wars from previous administrations, he did absolutely nothing to bring them to an end — quite the opposite. And please, let's not forget what was done to Libya and its people, nor the obscene double game played by the USA, the UK, France and Israel throughout the Middle East, through the so-called Islamic State. The American dream no longer exists, and if it does exist, it's become a nightmare — and not just an American one. The USA isn't a democracy, it's an empire, and it's dragging all of us into the abyss of a dying capitalism, one that's bound to end, but that won't leave this world without destroying it first.

You really light up especially when political topics come up: at this point it seems inevitable to ask you to say a few words about Donald Trump…

When he was elected, I breathed a sigh of relief. Because I've read the correspondence between Clinton and Podesta, and it talks about thermonuclear war in terms that aren't even that veiled. Trump is a puppet in the hands of the American military-industrial complex, just as Obama was.

What about the Brexit affair? A great many musicians from the British scene have come out to proclaim their shame at being English...

I don't understand what they should be ashamed of. As I see it, the issue isn't more Europe or less Europe, but rather more democracy or less democracy. In the UK there's still a working class worthy of the name, there's a youth that's aware and conscious of the state of affairs their country and the world are in, and there's even a political leader, Jeremy Corbyn, who says clear, right and reasonable things, who talks about peace and cooperation between peoples.

In Italy we're in election season: any impressions on the current domestic political situation?

Our political class has done everything it could to bring the general situation to ruin. What we have before our eyes is a can of worms. The Democratic Party, heir to Berlinguer's Communist Party, has become a neoliberal right-wing party. It's enough to make you throw up your hands.

The Scene

What's your relationship like with the other big protagonists of the golden decade of Italian alternative rock? Manuel Agnelli, Cristiano Godono, Emidio Clementi, Paolo Benvegnù, Ferretti - do you keep in touch with any of them periodically? If you run into each other on some occasion, is it big hugs, or does indifference reign? Who have you stayed closest to? Do you feel you need to reproach any of them for choices they've made?

I don't know Manuel that well, and we don't see each other often, but I consider him a true artist. Cristiano is a friend, Emidio is a brother in arms, Paolo I've crossed paths with many times, and he's a genuinely likeable character, Ferretti I don't know at all, but politically speaking he's been a bitter disappointment, and not just for me.

Was there really a strong "collaborationist" bond back then (I'm thinking of the C.P.I. experience or Tora! Tora!), or was it all just appearances, with whoever championed it ultimately just doing it for personal gain?

"Collaborationist" is a strange word. It's normally used to refer to those who collaborate with the enemy. I'd rather use the word "cooperation". I have a wonderful memory of Tora! Tora!; those were different times, we felt we were part of a scene and shared its goals, which might not always have coincided exactly, but we all agreed on the intention to make good music and believe in it. That atmosphere has disappeared, but it will be reborn, if not today, then tomorrow.

Do you still listen with affection and curiosity to the new albums by those bands? Which ones do you think have aged the best?

I've never made a secret of loving Massimo Volume. I still like what they do, maybe even more than before. The last Afterhours album, "Folfiri o Folfox", is perhaps their best ever.

Another band you'd like to mention?

Since we're on the subject, I'd like to mention Ardecore, who are my favourite group.

The Other Projects

Do you still consider One Dimensional Man your favorite project, or has something shifted in your priorities?

I try to give my best in everything I do. Maybe I don't always succeed, but at least I try.

Two years ago there was the pleasant surprise of the Bunuel project, shared with Xabier Iriondo, Franz Valente and Eugene Robinson. Thirty infernal minutes that sounded like they were recorded in one of Dante's circles of hell. There you took on the role of bassist: for someone used to being at the center of the stage, it must have been an interesting change of perspective. What does it feel like to play in a post-hardcore band standing a couple of steps behind the singer?

For me it's simply electrifying. Playing bass without having to sing is liberating. And with Franz on drums, it's pure pleasure. Not being at the center of the stage is a relief. Cooperating with such an innovative guitarist and such a charismatic singer is an honor and a privilege.

Could the energy that came out of those recordings and the shows that followed have somehow influenced the writing of the songs on "You Don't Exist?"

In some ways, yes. But really it's just the same attitude expressed in a different way.

Could the Bunuel project have a follow-up, or was it a one-off experience?

Of course it'll have a follow-up! I can announce that we'll be releasing a new album soon, again through La Tempesta International and Goodfellas. I've been listening to it for months now; it's a purgatory of unbelievable violence.

How did the experience of your solo record, "Obtorto collo", go instead? Were those songs you'd had in a drawer for years, waiting for the right moment, or was it material written in those very weeks?

"Obtorto collo" is the result of a collaboration with Maestro Paki Zennaro. Zennaro wrote almost all the music on the record, and even on the tracks he didn't write, he contributed significantly to their realization. Either way, the record is the fruit of a long process of development, not least because it features twenty different musicians, every single one of whom played with conviction, love and affection. Still, the record didn't do well commercially, and neither did the tour. I remember, with some regret, having to cancel a number of dates... Zero advance ticket sales.

Do you feel more at ease as a solo artist or as part of a band?

I couldn't say. I don't see much difference. What matters is writing songs that are good to listen to and that carry a narrative worth expressing.

The project that's given you the most visibility remains Il Teatro degli Orrori, but just to get an idea of how hard it is to be a musician in this country today, do you know roughly how many copies a Teatro degli Orrori record sells? The numbers have become really tiny...

I don't have a precise idea. I'd say somewhere between ten and twenty thousand copies.

In London you can find the latest record releases for 9 pounds, while in Italy new albums cost up to 22/23 euros (Fedez's new one at Feltrinelli), even at big retail chains, which might otherwise be expected to guarantee lower prices. Setting aside the issue of 22% VAT, it seems clear that something's not right. Don't the biggest musicians have any leverage to do something about it? Chances are, if records were cheaper, they'd sell more. As it stands, people only buy the ones they care most about, almost always big names, which damages niche acts and emerging artists. It's true that a night out at a club still costs more than a CD, so if the record as an object were perceived as a work of art, it should cost more. It's an extremely tangled issue. What's your take on it?

Fedez put out a new album? And who cares. I'm not well versed on this subject. The way I see it, the record market is a market like any other. Supply and demand. Demand and supply.

Mega festivals, where you can immerse yourself in a multitude of concerts over three days, are more and more in vogue. Why can't Italian artists find space at the big international festivals? Beyond the limited appeal of our bands, couldn't it also be a problem tied to the inability of our industry people to promote Italian acts abroad? Why can I easily find a Norwegian or Icelandic band anywhere, but not One Dimensional Man, In Zaire or Calibro 35?

I don't think it's a matter of industry people being incompetent. I think it's more a problem tied to the quality of the music we play.

And why can't Italy manage to organize a festival with major international drawing power, like a Glastonbury or a Reading? I mean, Spain has managed it, Hungary has managed it (Sziget), and by now there are great festivals in Portugal and Croatia too. Here they tried with the Heineken Jammin' Festival, but it only lasted a few years...

Look, let me tell you a little anecdote. The last big festival I happened to play at was Home, in Treviso. There were police, carabinieri and the financial police everywhere, on the surrounding streets, at the entrances, among the crowd, backstage. They even came into the dressing rooms. An absolute disgrace. That's what happens over here.

After the promotional tour for "You Don't Exist" and the new Bunuel album, which you've just announced, do you already have an idea of what the next steps in your artistic path will be? Will you keep splitting your time equally between readings, theatre, One Dimensional Man and your solo career? Or do you have other projects in the works too?

I've got big things in mind, but it's too early to talk about them now. What's certain is that I'll be dedicating 2018 essentially to One Dimensional Man.

After so many years spent on stage, do you still have any dreams left in the drawer that you'd like to fulfil? An artistic collaboration, writing songs for an artist you particularly care about, directing a film, painting, going into politics, hosting a TV show, I don't know, what might the Pierpaolo Capovilla of the future have in store for us?

When I grow up, I want to be a writer.

And it was to be expected, it's the most obvious next step we could expect from Pierpaolo Capovilla.

(05/03/2018)

***

INTERVIEW BY MARCO LO GIUDICE (2011)

On the phone with Pierpaolo Capovilla, on stages across Italy with the tour for "A Better Man", by One Dimensional Man

"Can you call me back later? I'm on a train, and it wouldn't seem right to disturb the other passengers." Ladies and gentlemen, on the other end of the line, the rawest, most blood-and-guts, most controversial man in Italian indie: Pierpaolo Capovilla.

The unsuspected calm and courtesy of the frontman of One Dimensional Man and Teatro degli Orrori spark a long chat about the one-dimensional man's recent album ("A Better Man") and about Italian music in general. Starting with what, today, Pierpaolo's real side project actually is.

I've been trying for a while now to stress that One Dimensional Man was only put on hold because of the work with Il Teatro degli Orrori, the real side project. Priority was forcibly given to Il Teatro, after the boom in albums and especially live shows. But One Dimensional Man is my creature, my firstborn, which I obviously care about enormously. At the same time, this record was born out of the collaboration with Luca Bottigliero, a great, truly great drummer. Written in about twenty days, we recorded it in roughly a month.

 

The record is absolutely packed with guests: from James Campbell, the Australian painter and poet who wrote all the lyrics, to Eugene Robinson of Oxbow, Justin Trosper of Unwound, and Italian guests: Sir Bob Cornelius Rifo and Jacopo Battaglia of dance phenomenon Bloody Beetroots, Rodrigo D’Erasmo of Afterhours, Enrico Gabrielli of Calibro 35, Gionata Mirai of Il Teatro degli Orrori, Francesco D’Abbraccio of Aucan, and Richard Tiso, seen several times with Il Teatro and in the Mayakovsky reading.

All of this thanks to Giulio! Justin's appearance was incredible, he hadn't picked up a guitar in ten years! Eugene was also extremely available, Bob (Rifo, ed.) is a real mind, a true thinker. A choral record, one I'm satisfied with beyond expectations. A very modern record too, one that looks to the future, in its sounds and its writing. One Dimensional Man is truly a project on the rise, with an international outlook, which is why we'd love to take "A Better Man" abroad, and singing in English should make things at least a bit easier.

 

The record, multifaceted and therefore different from what the One Dimensional Man have done in the past, bears the mark of the three minds who worked on it.

What weighs most is the simplicity of my way of composing, to which Luca's flair was added, as he co-wrote almost the entire record with me. Giulio comes into play at a later stage as a true artistic producer: he's become a real expert in that field by now, and his touch is decisive. Between us there's total, mutual trust, built up over the years. Each of us lets the others do and undo freely, but it's really not just friendship, it's pure professional trust, if you can call it that. A chaotic creative style, in which different experiences clash and shape one another.

 

And there must also be a lot of Il Teatro degli Orrori in a record which, although released under the One Dimensional Man name, comes after two albums and two tours that – according to critics – changed Italian indie music.

Two albums, two tours and – I'll add – some absolutely insane chaos. It was a fundamental experience for my and our artistic and professional growth. It's true: One Dimensional Man and Il Teatro Degli Orrori are the same family, but with "A Better Man" we wanted to continue the path left hanging with "Take Me Away": a very tight, deeply rooted bond with Nineties rock, with that Chicago scene of Jesus Lizard and co. that we loved so much. One Dimensional Man is openly the offspring of that way of making and conceiving music, while Il Teatro Degli Orrori deliberately stays outside any cliché, and in that sense is more European.

 

That's all on the musical side. But what about the concept, the idea? Does Herbert Marcuse's one-dimensional man, hiding behind the band's name, still hold up today?

even more than before! At the end of the Sixties there were vivid, concrete hopes, people thought they could change the world. Instead, the course of history has led to an even more entrenched capitalism, and – particularly in Italy – to even more "one dimensional men" than before, forced into and enamored with consumption: twenty years of Berlusconi-style hedonism really leave their mark!

 

Despite this, something is moving. The last few months have brought political victories and social uprisings the likes of which haven't been seen in Italy for quite some time.

And in fact I hold great, truly great hope. What I'd like is for the people in government, and those pulling their strings, to leave once and for all: the country needs to go back into the hands of civil society, because the political establishment has shown the full extent of its squalid inadequacy and insufficiency. Looking back from my 43 years, I remember real politicians; the ones today are just crooks. But the Berlusconi era is coming to an end, and the latest signs (Pisapia in Milan, the referendum) show real vitality.

 

A sign of change that, in some ways, can also be seen in music. Endless calculations and scheming inside the office suites of major-label executives, desperately chasing the alchemy of a hit single, and on the other side a band like Il Teatro degli Orrori which – without radio or TV promotion, without a single in the charts – sells out warehouses and venues.

Because in the end we're loose cannons. At my age it takes real courage to still play the clown on stage, but I'm deeply proud of what we've achieved: my work is highly political, and I've done a good job precisely because I've struck at the heart of the collective imagination. The choice to sing in Italian was made specifically to give the right weight to the content, which today is essential. In Il Teatro there's all my poetic and lyrical side, which tries to reconnect with that wonderful tradition of Italian singer-songwriters, from De André to Dalla up to the early Pino Daniele, artists who are extremely useful for understanding how – for us Italians – storytelling is everything.

 

The hype built up around Il Teatro degli Orrori, achieved partly thanks to Pierpaolo's direct and strongly political poetics, has exposed the Venetian frontman to the fickle fury typical of the web and of barroom public opinion. Recently he came under attack over the change in Il Teatro Degli Orrori's line-up.

Be careful, though, not to mistake the masses for the haters, a glaring example of how Italy's descent into barbarism inevitably gets reflected online. But I honestly don't worry about the gossip, the rumours, I go straight down my own path, knowing full well that I can certainly make mistakes too. I'm an ambitious man, and ambitious men look to the future.

 

He'll no doubt always be on stage. Jumping, screaming, provoking.

The stage is everything to me, it's the extraordinary theatre of life, always with the risk that it becomes more real than life itself! A life that many spend at the office crunching numbers, in a factory breaking their backs, or at home anesthetized by TV… and this is coming from someone who was still working up until nine months ago!

 

Giulio and Luca, on the other end of the phone, are calling for Pierpaolo to come to rehearsals for the tour, which has already been a hit at numerous summer festivals around Italy.

Yesterday L'Uomo A Una Dimensione, today Il Teatro Degli Orrori: the protagonists, the minds behind it, are the same, and the recipe is very similar. After years of paying their dues, of sweat and passion poured out on stages of every size and standing, today they're the ones leading the Italian indie pack.

And rightly so.

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Claudio Lancia, 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.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition

One Dimensional Man on OndaRock

Discography

One Dimensional Man (Wide, 1997)
1000 Doses Of Love (Wide, 2000)
You Kill Me (Gamma Pop, 2001)
Take Me Away (Ghost / Midfinger, 2004)
The Box (box set, La Tempesta, 2010)
A Better Man (La Tempesta, 2011)
You Don't Exist (La Tempesta International, 2018)
Milestone
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