Pietra Montecorvino - The voice and heart of an untameable one-off talent

Later came Angelo Branduardi, who brought her along on the "Pane e Rose" tour, and above all Eugenio Bennato, to whom she was romantically linked for a long time and with whom she built a fruitful artistic partnership that began with “Acqua acqua foco foco” and continued shortly after with another musical work, “A Sud di Mozart”. While her first single dates back to 1988 (“Una città che vola”), her debut LP, “Segnorita”, came out in 1991, released by Five Record and written jointly by brothers Eugenio and Edoardo Bennato. It was a triumph with critics: Pietra received the Targa Tenco for “best performer of the year” and just a year later Peppino di Capri sang “Favola Blues” with her on the Ariston stage at Sanremo – it would take sixteen years for her to return to the Festival dei fiori, with Eugenio Bennato competing with “Grande Sud”.

Not only has much more happened over these seven lustra of her career, but Montecorvino's calendar is still packed with engagements today. The first is a concert in Naples at the Teatro Sannazaro, which on April 11th closes a prestigious series titled “Sound of the City” that has already featured artists such as James Senese and Napoli Centrale, Raiz with Radicanto, and Peppe Servillo accompanied by the Solis String Quartet.

She's back with a new album, “My Fault” (Malamusik), distributed by the label Lucky Planets, which in recent times has done the valuable work of bringing renewed light to albums by Roberto Murolo (including “Ottantavogliadicantare”, known for its great collaborations with Mia Martini, Enzo Gragnaniello, Fabrizio De André, Peppino Di Capri, Renzo Arbore and Toquinho), by Musicanova, by Edoardo Bennato (“È arrivato un bastimento”, “Kaiwanna” and other titles from his vast catalogue, including “È asciuto pazzo ‘o padrone” recorded as Joe Sarnataro), the much-missed Sergio Bruni, as well as releasing Lina Sastri's latest live albums and numerous film scores. All of this might suggest a work firmly rooted in tradition, in folk research, but instead it isn't: it looks beyond borders, paints with new colours, and there's an unprecedented electronic garb wrapped around Pietra's voice. A voice that, in the skilled hands of a producer like Salvio Vassallo, an outstanding multi-instrumentalist who over the years has moved between Peter Gabriel's Real World and the worlds of Jenny Sorrenti and Nino Buonocore – not to mention a project on Luciano Berio's folk songs, “Remembering The Future” – gives its best in a work that is accessible yet at the same time sophisticated, modern, bold in pairing soft beats (more lounge than dancefloor) with the ever fiery, urgent and heartfelt performances of the Neapolitan singer and actress.

Not only is there no room here for maestro Arbore's sun-pizza-mandolin postcards, but at the same time a dividing line is drawn with the current Neapolitan scene (kaleidoscopic to say the least, with the mysterious Liberato on one side and the neomelodici of the ever-attentive Zeus on the other end of the spectrum). There's a duet with Tonino Carotone on the title track and one with her son Fulvio Bennato (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree), eight original tracks and two covers, “A chi” (better known as “Hurt”, in the Timi Yuro version) and “Tu sì ‘na cosa grande”. And above all there's that warm, abrasive, one-of-a-kind voice, capable of bringing together worlds that would otherwise turn their backs on each other.

Let's start with your latest work, "My Fault": why did you choose this title, beyond the song also released as a single, and why did you choose such a striking black-and-white cover image, with a self-censorship mark?

Let's say that in some way it's a slightly transgressive message – I don't play along with games, I don't stick to conventions, I'm openly outside the market and, as you can see, I make the cover I want. I self-censor it, because you'd censor it anyway, and I release "My Fault" freely. And the fault is mine – I take responsibility for presenting myself today with an image like this, at such a delicate moment, when it seems women can't even bare a couple of inches of skin without risking being raped. I take responsibility for whatever judgment people might make, basically.

How did the collaboration with Salvio Vassallo come about? The album feels very "fresh" to me, it's the first time we've heard you with electronic arrangements.

It was a new experience for me, first of all because of the electronics – throughout my career I've always been "acoustic" in some way, so I had to get used to this burdell' (laughs) of sounds and noises, accept it and manage it so that a song could come out of these new suggestions, rather than house music. Salvio might have pushed the rhythmic side too far, but I wanted the record as a whole to be more melodic – there was a lot of work done on the lyrics, I "dried out" certain moments, and I decided, for instance, to add a trumpet, which I felt would give it that slightly more "human" warmth. But this combination turned out to be interesting, the record sounds really good, I enjoy listening to it. I agree about the freshness of the result.

The title track of the album is a duet with Tonino Carotone. How did you two meet? Whose idea was it?

The idea came from some mutual friends, who told me that Tonino was a fan of mine and really wanted to meet me. He often comes to Naples. At some point I looked him up, I went to one of his concerts, and then he came to see one of my shows... it was a fairly magical situation, it was winter. We met, got to know each other. He's very talented. The very next day I brought him into the studio ("before you go back to Madrid," I told him, "come and put this voice on it"). He made a big effort, because we recorded the song at noon, and for him that's the dead of night – he's fairly disorganized when it comes to schedules. But he made the effort, he was very happy, and he told me that singing with me had always been his dream, even though he can boast successful collaborations with Manu Chao and other artists. I seized the opportunity. I had also called Gérard Depardieu, I would have sung the song "La luna" together with him, but he was busy at the time and couldn't take part.

There's another voice accompanying you on the album, that of Fulvio Bennato. There's a song, written by him, called "Far Away". Why a mother-son duet, and why a song in English?

Fulvio has lived abroad for a long time, and I liked this song of his, "Far Away", which is about distance. I asked him: "Why not put it on the record? We're mother and son, far apart, it'll be a poetic track". At first he didn't want to hear of it at all – he makes his own music, he lives in Australia, he's travelled around India, Indonesia, and he sings in English. He's also written a song in Italian, which I think is beautiful, but he doesn't seem too convinced by it.

There are two covers. The album opens with a duet and closes with a track performed without instruments, with heavy reverb. I found that choice quite curious.

It's the journey of our lives. We're born together with others, in twos, in threes... children, parents... and then we end up alone, without even music to keep us company anymore. I'm glad it came across to you as an emotion. That's what matters when you make music, art, cinema...

Speaking of cinema, we know that one of your songs – "Senza voce", written by Enzo Gragnaniello – is on the soundtrack of "Napoli velata". An important encounter, that with Ferzan Ozpetek...

The contact comes from the call of my voice. People look for me... and they find me. But I'm only available when there's art involved, when there's something to be moved by. Many times I've found myself saying no to things that might have sold well but that wouldn't have felt right to me. I want to stay outside the herd and away from any artistic speculation – if I get offers I consider too commercial, I turn them down. I could probably be much more famous, but time is short and I only want to devote myself to things that are authentic and that will last. I've sung with Ute Lemper, Mercedes Sosa, Nina Simone, in London with the BBC alongside Morrissey. I've done many concerts in France, in Spain. Despite my napoletanite, which I hold onto tightly and maintain with great strength and stubbornness, I consider myself an international artist. I don't have a single genre of music – I feel a kinship with Tina Turner, Bruce Springsteen, but also our own wonderful Italian artists, from the Bennato family to De Gregori to Gragnaniello. I don't even have a single genre of cinema, I'm simply a fan of art.

Speaking of art, besides singing and acting, we know you paint.

Only around mid-August: when I'm left alone at home because it's unbearable outside, I buy a canvas and make my own painting, my mid-August painting. All my paintings are dated the 15th of August (laughs). I've had a few exhibitions, I presented a book that included some of my paintings, and I did a series of shows with a journalist who asked me questions while we used my paintings as the backdrop. That was four years ago, we did about ten dates.

Getting back to cinema...

I have some news for you: I'm working with director Eduardo De Angelis on his new film. I don't want to reveal anything yet, but there's a scene where I sing a really beautiful song during a wedding (De Angelis makes the kind of cinema that tackles subjects like the Camorra, the "sicker" side of Naples). It'll be at the Venice Film Festival in September. There's also a festival in Naples on the calendar, details of which will be known in the coming weeks, and a project with an international artist against femicide - I'm on the front line for women's freedom all over the world, but I don't consider myself a feminist: freedom is an achievement for the whole human race. It's going to be a very intense year.

What has stayed with you from working with John Turturro on the film "Passione"?

What's certainly stayed is my friendship with John, which is hugely important to me. I'll be seeing him again soon - there's an idea to organize a private concert at his house. Ideas like this come about because I'm lucky enough to work with people who support and complete me: that often doesn't happen to artists, quite the opposite. It's very easy to come across arrogant, ignorant people who want to change something about your personality, when maybe that very trait is exactly what allows you to leave a mark.

You have an association, Malamusik. How is it developing? Is there room for research and scouting new talent?

Malamusik, which is also my label, was born out of a desire to be independent. If I were with a major record label, they'd even tell me how to dress, what I can say and what I can't. Come on, that didn't sit well with me when I was twenty, so how could it work now? I have to win, but on my own terms. New talent? There is some, I've discovered three or four artists, but I've had little time...

Are there experiences you turned down that you now look back on and say "oh, if only I'd done it"? What were your most striking refusals?

Pietra at twenty sent everyone packing. A contract worth 200 million lire with Roberto Rossellini, who said "Pietra, is it possible you won't sign?". I turned down a guest appearance at Sanremo with the song "Sud", which would have paid me 50 million lire. Luciano de Crescenzo offered me a 100-million-lire fee for one of his films and 50 million for another. It's a circuit, obviously: you get into something that never stops. You get into the business. But since I ended up becoming quite good, I don't regret it - otherwise I really would have said "what a stupid thing I did". My path has been deep and constructive. I met Eugenio, who taught me to be free and, at the same time, to respect the numbers. I've come a long way, I've learned to stand on stage without getting emotional while performing. Going on stage with emotion is, to me, foolish - it makes you lose your sense of truth.

Your concert on April 11th is coming up. It's part of a series...

Yes, at the Teatro Sannazaro, and it'll be a very special concert. All my shows are different, it depends on the audience in front of me. If they're warm, the show will be warm. If they're quiet, it'll be quiet... if I'm in a mood, I want to turn the rules upside down, and I definitely will. I'll be joined by drums, double bass, guitar and cello. The songs from the new album will be given acoustic arrangements, I'll perform three or four of them plus the Neapolitan classics I simply can't leave out. I really feel it as a duty - doing them in a certain way means I have to uphold the tradition.

Is this a good moment for the Neapolitan scene?

No, I don't think so. There are artists who emerge every now and then, but nothing really happens, and I don't think history will remember them. Over the last thirty or forty years there were Pino Daniele, Tony Esposito - Naples developed an absolutely independent identity using the Neapolitan language, but not only that, look at Alan Sorrenti, who sang in Italian. Naples didn't bow to the market, it was the market that came looking for talent in Naples. Today the market is proving increasingly ambiguous and pointless, and there's a void that scares artists. Maybe something good will come out tomorrow, but right now I don't think there's much left to discover. It's all already been heard, not to say copied, or in any case trivialized.

Your previous work, "Half a Stone", is a tribute to Pino Daniele and Massimo Troisi. What was it like recording it, and how were the songs chosen?

It was all instinctive - three days after Pino died I felt the need to put this album together. I never actually met him, though I remember once bringing him a rose at a restaurant... but I was friends with Massimo Troisi, whom I loved dearly. With Pino's death I spontaneously created a triangle of me-Pino-Massimo, a little piece of history made with great love. When you put feeling into something and there's no intention to exploit it, you can do whatever you want, there's no shame in it. I sang the songs that came to mind, I didn't choose "Je so' pazzo" or "Napule è", but songs I'm particularly attached to. "Vivo come te" is beautiful (and she sings).