Vittoria Burattini - A Life at Massimo Volume

April 1, 2011, the emotion of finding them again up there on a stage, disproving all our fears. Until a couple of years ago, everyone had written them off as irrevocably lost, forever. And now that they've shown they're still here, and perhaps even better than before, who's going to miss them again? Circolo degli Artisti in Rome once again hosts Massimo Volume just a few months later, buoyed by an album that's been extraordinarily well received by critics and audiences alike, their fifth, the first of their new era: “Cattive abitudini”. The show is tense, vibrant, moving. Emidio Clementi confirms himself as an essential, charismatic frontman, skilled at declaiming his own lyrics and a perfect partner to the rhythm section, thanks to the notes of his bass, which he only sets aside during the performance of that gut-punch of a song titled “Litio”. Flanking him are the longtime guitarist, the focused Egle Sommacal, and the new guitarist, the seemingly more outgoing Stefano Pilia. Behind them, Vittoria Burattini, our own Maureen Tucker, the irreplaceable drummer and a founding member of the band. After a full hour and a half of performance, Massimo Volume graciously open the doors of the backstage room to host an interview scheduled with the ever-available Vittoria. We settle onto a small couch with Vittoria, while in the adjoining room the post-show DJ set kicks off.

Here we are, back in Rome after just a few months, on a date that was almost unexpected, only confirmed for certain a few days ago.

Usually here at Circolo degli Artisti they book us twice, it's happened before. We were here last December (when they played a different set, performing the tracklist of "Cattive abitudini" in the same sequence as on the record for the first part of the show, ed.) and now we're back. We'll probably be back next summer too, for a festival that should be organized by the venue itself, although the locations and dates aren't known yet.

There was a real risk of never being able to see you live again, following your breakup. And yet those who were distracted, or too young, and missed you back in the '90s, now get to experience your music live, to (re)discover the legend.

What's it like, the emotion of coming back after years away and finding this immense warmth waiting for you?

The emotion is considerable. For me it was a bit like returning to a natural habitat. Because Massimo Volume is my band, we grew up together, this is my second family. Today we're older, our approach to music and to our craft has become more mature. We're also better equipped to deal with those inevitable conflicts that undermined the band's stability in the past. So today we're able to manage situations in a way that brings the band to a level of stability that maybe wasn't there before.

I understand you're currently in the studio working on new material.

For now we've finished the studio work for a seven-inch with four tracks, coming out in collaboration with Bachi da Pietra. We're doing a cover of a Bachi da Pietra song ("Morse") and they're covering one of ours ("Litio"). Then there'll be one new original track each.

I'm particularly interested in understanding your relationship with technology. Nowadays it's not television but the computer that puts us to bed. Young people spend hours on YouTube, through which they listen to and discover a lot of music. Your video for "Litio" on Soluzioni Semplici gets an enormous number of clicks, record-breaking levels. Is Massimo Volume paying attention to the evolution of technology? And how do new technologies factor into your organizational process?

Let's say we're giving ourselves a wake-up call. These days we pay attention to these dynamics because I think it's the only real, viable option for an independent musician who doesn't move in television circles. And we don't. It's good for us to try to analyze how the situation is evolving and figure out the solutions best suited to who we are. Our relationship with technology, musically speaking, is a bit dinosaur-like, in the sense that we're rockers who are more vintage-oriented than tech/modernist. That said, the idea of promoting an album in a certain way, maybe releasing it only online, is a solution that's been crossing our minds. There are bands that have been doing it for years, making much heavier use of their own website. We have our own too. Over time it's going to become an increasingly essential interface between us and the outside world.

Your story is fascinating, and it's been masterfully told by Andrea Pomini through your own words in the excellent book recently published by Arcana (“Tutto qui”). You emerged in the early '90s within the context of a particularly vibrant Bologna, a scene made up of squats, youth movements, perhaps utopian dreams. At the time, Bologna was seen by young people as an enviable, unrepeatable scene. Was it really like that, or is it all a bit of a legend?

It's partly a legend and partly it really was like that. In the sense that, especially when you're not in the city, when you're observing from outside, from a distance, and maybe just hearing about it secondhand, there's always this self-perpetuating myth thing, the whole "the grass is always greener" idea. Anyone who didn't live in Bologna in those years, or only experienced it a little, might have overrated it, but there really was a big movement, also because people back then were on average more creative. We were a generation that was less consumerist and more creative than today's. The last generation to experience such a carefree, somewhat hippie-ish age. It's true that even today young people have the chance to create their own creative space. Maybe now it doesn't happen through squatting a building or running a social center, but through different means. I'm sure that even today a twenty-year-old has their own glories and important places to experience, just like we did. But there was a period when Bologna really was a wonderful place to be. And I think it still is, even though a lot of things have inevitably changed. I live there and I love it, I'm very much in love with Bologna.

How much does your presence affect the band's songwriting process?

As much as everyone else's presence does. We argue a lot, and the biggest conflicts arise from the fact that when we're writing, there's no real leadership within the group. Everyone has their say and their own legitimacy, recognized by all the others. If you like, it's a more anarchic process than a democratic one, the majority doesn't necessarily win, even though in the end there has to be a moment of decision. Clashes can happen too, it's normal, but every member of the group carries their own weight. So I have my own patch, like everyone else, and I'm respected for what I argue and for the objections I raise:

How would the trajectory of Massimo Volume have evolved if Umberto Palazzo had stayed in the band? I ask because I recently interviewed Umberto too, and he restated his own version of how things went in the past, so it seemed like it might be interesting to draw a kind of parallel.

That's a two-hundred-million-euro question! There was definitely a period, quite a long one actually, when Massimo Volume were more about atmosphere than rock (particularly around the time “Da qui” came out, released in 1997, ed.). So with Umberto, if he had shown himself capable of managing strong, stubborn personalities, we probably would have been more rock, we'd probably have had a more electric approach. But that's a line of reasoning that doesn't really hold up. He cares a lot about control and leadership, he always felt very responsible when he was with us, felt like he was somewhat in charge of things, and not in a negative sense. It's just that he was the one who originally put the project together, and he wanted to keep steering it. The fact that our own personalities inevitably blossomed over the years, well, Umberto struggled with that a bit, to the point where a rift formed and led to the split. But then he went on to do his own things. His projects he carried forward. Everyone was free to follow their own path.

And recently you played at Wake Up in Pescara, where Umberto now works as artistic director.

Yes, but we didn't run into each other, there were no hugs between us. He left as soon as he saw us arriving. We got to the venue early, ahead of schedule. Umberto wasn't expecting that, he was there sorting out some things from the night before, and then he just vanished. In my opinion, after our biography came out, a breaking point was created that's hard to repair.

What new music are you listening to these days?

I'm listening a lot to “The King Of Limbs”, the new Radiohead album, I'm listening to the new PJ Harvey record, “Let England Shake”, but I also have my revival moments where I tend to go back and dig up old records.

What were the five most important Italian bands of the last twenty years?

I'd say Afterhours, Marlene Kuntz, Csi/Cccp, with a slight preference for the latter... (he pauses for a few seconds to think, ed.), Subsonica on the more pop side, then (as he's thinking I suggest he mention Massimo Volume, ed.)... no... I wouldn't want to put myself in there, maybe I'll say Baustelle, an important band, I adore them, I like them a lot, even though sometimes their arrangements don't quite land. But Francesco Bianconi is a truly great songwriter, for me he's the best one working today. Then Verdena, a band that's a genre unto itself, very good at managing themselves, hats off to them. Then I liked the path Morgan took, I really love Paolo Benvegnù, there are so many, it's not such an easy choice.

“Cattive abitudini” sounds incredibly good. Is that down to the fact that today you have access to increasingly sophisticated recording studios? Or is it simply that you keep improving so much on a technical level?

Maybe both things. I wouldn't want to say that we've become better musicians though, it's more that we wanted to make a rock record that sounded really powerful. To get the results we'd set out for, we decided to record everything in analog, with microphones and studio gear that was all from no later than the '70s. At most there was something from the '80s. The basic idea was not to let a single computer into the studio. And that's how it went. The whole process was analog. That contributed enormously to getting the sound you're talking about.

I also think “Club Privée” is really beautiful (he nods, ed.), with some gorgeous sounds and great guitar work, which we heard again tonight when you played “Seychelles '81”. That record, though, always seems to get a bit of a rough ride from fans.

Maybe because it was somewhat the record of the end. The one that closed out a cycle. To me, “Club Privée” has a great sound. Sonically it's our best record. The production too (by Manuel Agnelli, ed.) was good. There are a few less successful moments on it, though. Not so much because of Mimì's vocals, but more because of a few lines we could have followed better. But there are some great tracks on there.

One of the major figures in your biography is Manuel Agnelli. Reading the book, it seemed clear to me that you fell under his spell during the recording of “Club Privée”. Did I read that right?

You read it right. I fall under his spell more as a friend than as a musician. There's incredible empathy between us, something special on an emotional level. Manuel has a lot of female friends, he's a sensitive person and has a social life in which he shows himself to be very open, contrary to what a lot of people claim. Then if you bring up music, if you work together, it can become a different story. But on the level of friendship he's truly a loyal person. We talk often. We send each other messages renewing our affection for one another. He's an important person to me.

Do you think Manuel has done a lot for Italian music? According to some people involved, few artists have really benefited from his initiatives. The bulk of the independent scene supposedly saw no positive fallout from it. What's your take on that?

Manuel has done and continues to do a lot for Italian music, absolutely yes. Even when he put together "Tora! Tora!", he didn't just call up his friends, but also involved musicians he didn't know at all, giving space to the proposals he considered most deserving. He's someone who pays very close attention to what's happening on the national scene. But then it's up to the bands to determine their own fate. It's not like if Manuel gives you a hand, the next day you sell two hundred thousand copies. That's proven by the fact that we were produced by Manuel, on "Club Privée", but that didn't change anything in terms of our sales. And the same thing happened with other artists he's produced, look at Benvegnù's Scisma or Cristina Donà. He's a producer who doesn't make a difference in terms of sales. He makes a difference in terms of quality, at least for those who share his method, who share his vision. But if a band doesn't get organized, if it doesn't carve out its own path, if it doesn't make good music, there's only so much a Manuel Agnelli figure can do.

The most extraordinary person you've collaborated with?

Steve Piccolo, a fascinating person. And also Kaba, who handled the production of "Da qui" and "Along the edges".

An artist you'd do anything to collaborate with?

Massimo Volume could try the experience of being produced by one of those producers who really make a difference. Who obviously don't exist in Italy. A producer of the kind who lets you play and then adds something of their own. I'm thinking of Brian Eno, or Daniel Lanois. Even if it meant having all the drums stripped off the record, he'd always be right. Obviously, we're talking dream territory here.

So does missing the chance to be produced by John Cale (who was approached to produce what would become "Da qui", their third album) still sting?

Maybe Cale's style is a bit dated now, but yes, it still stings. With John Cale we would have at least guaranteed ourselves a great experience (and maybe a little international visibility, ed.).

Has anyone tried to occupy your niche since you broke up, or otherwise followed in your footsteps? For instance, Offlaga Disco Pax.

I haven't listened to Offlaga much, but I like them. We say hello, we respect each other. Nowadays quite a few people use spoken word. I'm thinking of the work of Teatro degli Orrori and some things by Le Luci della Centrale Elettrica, just to name a couple of names that are very much in vogue. We started something of a school in Italy, although the real forerunners in our country were CCCP.

If you had to put together a hypothetical supergroup with you on drums, who would you call?

I'd love to play with Massive Attack, with Portishead, with Tricky. But maybe it's better if I'm not the one on drums. In that case I'd just go see them live.

When Massimo Volume broke up, I expected that you or Egle (Sommacal, the band's longtime guitarist, ed.), both highly accomplished musicians, would have settled in with other major bands. Instead you've only had other experiences with people who were already orbiting around you, like Franklin Delano.

If they'd asked me, I would have gone and played with the very big names we're talking about. But, you know, when a band is formed, it's already formed with its own drummer, look at Giorgio Prette with Afterhours. It's very hard for someone else to step into a system that's already up and running. Some people, when they're in need, call in session musicians, but that's not the kind of experience I'm after. I'm a drummer who wants to grow with a band, to shape the band's sound, not someone who just passively falls in line executing sounds requested by others. I don't know if that's a limitation. In Italy, besides, there isn't much of a scene of musicians moving between bands. In Bologna there's absolutely none of that. It's not like in the United States, where a reasonably important musician who ends up without a band easily gets picked up by someone else. That kind of turnover just doesn't exist in Italy.

Almost two decades after your debut, are you aware of being the representatives of a generation?

I find that a lovely compliment. While you're working, writing new songs, playing your shows, you don't really stop to think about it. But if you pause for a moment to reflect, if you take stock, you might realize you've done something that was very much appreciated, that meant a great deal to a lot of people. We were part of a generation of important musicians, the one that created that big movement which developed starting in the early '90s. And which unfortunately hasn't had a generational successor of the same caliber. The generation of indie bands that came after ours hasn't left the same mark.

You've often been known for referencing people who really exist, close to you, friends of yours, or people from your area whom you first observed and then explicitly named in your songs. I'm thinking of Leo, of Alessandro, of Thomas. Mimì told their stories in a way that made them universal characters, where many other songwriters would inevitably have fallen into provincialism.

Mimì took his cue from American writers, who saw heroism in everyday life. In day-to-day existence you discover secrets you can use, that you can draw from. And render, as you put it, universal. A gift that only the greatest poets possess.

And so it closes, with the evidence of the greatness of Emidio Clementi's poetics, and of the great ability Massimo Volume have shown over these twenty years in setting it to music, generating a significant, probably unrepeatable journey. Tonight, during their performance, I saw people crying. I saw others thanking Massimo Volume for existing. I told all this to Vittoria. I told all this to Massimo Volume. A piece of the musical history of our limping country.

For the sake of completeness, here's the setlist from the evening's concert:

Altri nomi

Fuoco fatuo

Encore:

Alessandro

In nome di Dio

Ororo

Ride the wave of great music

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