Tuesday, February 27th, 2018, Rome, an appointment set at the offices of the press agency that has followed Zen Circus for years. It's the coldest day of the year, they say it's one of the coldest ever recorded in these parts, and overnight temperatures are expected to drop several degrees below zero. The previous day will go down in the record books for one of the heaviest snowfalls anyone can remember in the Eternal City, an exceptional event, complete with blocked trains and impossible road traffic. None of this stopped the band from Pisa from reaching the Capital for the start of the promotional run in support of their new album "Il cielo in una stanza", out at the end of the week, to be followed first by a punishing Feltrinelli tour taking in Italy's major cities, then by yet another endless run of shows, which will carry on as usual until the next album.
At 4:30pm they were at the Radio Rai studios for an acoustic showcase plus interview; at 7:30pm they arrive in the Eur district for our meeting, which turns out to be long and enjoyable, fueled by beers, pizzette and endless cigarettes. Ufo is the first to arrive, we meet under the entrance, and within minutes Andrea Appino, Karim Qqru and Maestro Francesco Pellegrini, the new addition to the line-up, show up too. Just enough time to get the instruments out of the car, you never know, and the chat can begin, in a tone that stays cheerful throughout, in the classic style of Appino and co., true-blooded Tuscans, irreverent and quick to poke fun at everything.
Rome, the snow, Zen Circus
So guys, did we survive this "Terza Guerra Mondiale" (the title of their previous album, ed.)?
Ufo: We're in it up to our necks, and let's hope nobody starts a riot! I wouldn't want to have been a prophet, like on "Andate tutti affanculo". Out there I notice a lack of historical and social narrative, I see a huge sense of desperation.
Are you aware you're in Rome on one of the coldest days ever? Snow around here is an exceptional event!
Appino: I know, I know. But get this, once it even snowed in Messina while I was there. At this point you'd have to think I might be the cause of all this!
Well, given the snow, and given that your upcoming album is without a doubt really good, maybe we can cross our fingers and think that this could finally be the year of Zen Circus!
Ufo: You know what the beautiful thing is? It's that it will never be the year of Zen Circus, because in all these years — and by now they're quite a few — there's never been a moment when the band was fashionable. But we've been a phenomenon in constant, steady growth. Of everyone who believed in the band from the start, we've never lost a single one. It's true that today we have a big audience, but that's because the numbers have kept growing steadily, without anyone ever turning their back on us. Everyone has seen not so much the "goofiness", but the sincerity in everything we've ever made: maybe at times we've been a bit rough around the edges, but no one has ever been able to say we did anything out of cunning. That's what guarantees the credibility of our project over time, which, without ever becoming something huge, has built up an important and steadily growing following.
Il fuoco in una stanza
The new album, on the first two or three listens, might not leave you exactly indifferent, but somewhere between surprised and skeptical — then something happens, and suddenly you're inside it, or maybe it's the album that manages to get inside the listener...
Appino: You know you're not the first to point this out to me about repeated listens? It's something a few other people who've heard it so far have also mentioned.
Ufo: The industry insiders are responding well, everyone's excited, I hope the audience will have the same reaction.
Every one of your albums seems to get better than the last one...
Appino: So we're going to die making an amazing album!
The fact is, first impressions suggest a less immediate album than usual, but one that with repeated listens gets damn well under your skin. "Infectious" is probably the right word to describe it. It's addictive. Was it a deliberate choice to make a slightly less "easy" record?
Ufo: Well, "Canzoni contro la natura" wasn't exactly a breath of simplicity either. I always look at our ten albums from a distance, and I see them as one single record. Some of our other works have only been understood gradually, over time. I'm thinking of "Scarpellini", an underrated album that never really won over critics or audiences, but which was later recognized as having an almost incendiary, somewhat rebellious value — an album that in some way laid the groundwork for the modern Zen Circus, and already contained the first songs written in Italian. Some of our albums come across as more immediate, others require more listens.
Which one in particular would you compare this one to?
Ufo: This one reminds me of "Doctor Seduction", because it's very orchestrated, it includes shorter, more concise ballads, more arranged moments and more schematic tracks, some more upbeat, others darker. "Il fuoco in una stanza" is a very varied album, even though every instrument you hear is always guitars. We've always stayed a guitar/bass/drums trio, we don't do electronic experiments: every sound you hear on the record is generated by analog instruments, just like on the previous album. Wherever it sounds like you're hearing a synth, it's actually always guitars, that's the foundation of our work. This album, though, like the previous one, is extremely worked-on — if you listen closely, you'll notice how the drums sound different on every track, the bass too, it all seems apparently fresh and thrown together on the fly, but every instrument has been carefully worked out.
So the synths we hear at the start of "Low Cost" actually aren't synths either?
Ufo: They're always manipulated, effected guitars, there's very little else added, apart from the orchestra, which you can find in several spots. Our formal method of composing has always been guitar-based. Emphasizing this point matters to us.
In Andrea's lyrics this time, even more than usual, there are references to parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, ex-girlfriends, lovers. Little family portraits set against a small-town backdrop.
Ufo: "Il fuoco in una stanza" is exactly that. If you look at the cover, there she is, seeing in the mirror her whole family entourage, weighing on her, suffocating her.
All confirmed by the shot chosen for the cover, once again created by Ilaria Magliocchetti Lombi...
Appino: Ilaria has made maybe ¾ of our covers, she's like family to us. This time, more than usual, we wanted a strongly symbolic image.
Karim: There are so many small details in that photo, in the hands, in the eyes, in the paintings on the wall: it has far more references to the album's content than any of our previous covers. It's going down really well, and that wasn't a given at all, since it's a rather unusual shot.
Could we call "Il fuoco in una stanza" a kind of concept album?
Ufo: Ours are always concept albums sui generis. "Canzoni contro la natura" could have been one too, it had a common thread. The idea of a concept album is pretty outdated by now, but we certainly don't believe in Spotify playlists: we still believe in the value of the LP. Let me put it better: we recognize the merits of the way music is consumed today, but for us the album is a whole work, and there has to be an underlying narrative. In the case of our new album, the unifying element is precisely fire in a room. It can be a domestic hearth, it can be a blaze, it can even be something highly destructive, something that touches on relationships with the people close to you. Situations that can mark moments of growth, but also of regression, of conflict, or of overcoming those conflicts.
Then again, family has always been a constant in your songwriting...
Ufo: yes, friends, being twenty, parents, they've always been there in Zen songs.
Andrea, did all these family sketches come to you along the way, or did you start writing with a very specific goal from the start?
Appino: Actually, I never plan things from the beginning, although this time at a certain point I realized this record would be pretty personal lyrically. But nothing is tied to something pre-planned. Maybe it's all connected to turning forty, which gets you reflecting and taking stock. So I sort of found the common thread along the way, also because, apart from "Catene", the lyrics always come at the end. There's at most one song per album where the lyrics came right away.
So you always write the lyrics last?
Appino: Yes, with very few exceptions. So few I could list them for you. Like "Figlio di puttana", "Catene", "Vent'anni". Music and words almost never come together at the same time, the initial lyrics are all fake Italian, put there to fix a melodic line, which I then replace with words that actually mean something. I've even kept all the original versions, with this nonexistent Italian. If you want, I'll let you hear them!
A bit like Verdena do with English!
Appino: Yes, they do it with fake English, and I do it with fake Italian. Then the need to write actual lyrics kicks in, and that's something I feel, and when it kicks in I disappear from social life, I get drunk at home alone, and what comes out, this time around, is what you can hear on "Il cielo in una stanza".
Questa non è una canzone
"Questa non è una canzone" is, right now, my favorite track, the most structured song on the record, maybe the key track. In the middle section there's that epic crescendo that evokes a certain 60s flavor I find sublime.
Appino: I love it a lot, it's my favorite, along with "Caro Luca": harmonically it's a great song, no doubt about it.
Why did you all but bury something so beautiful, halfway through an eight-minute-plus song placed at the end of the tracklist? It almost feels like you're trying to protect it...
Ufo: You know, we wondered the same thing ourselves. We'd already figured the track would go down well. I imagine that people who are really into music will get a kick out of that song, which maybe won't be a smash on the radio or win over every single fan, but it'll drive the more discerning listeners wild.
A bit like the role that “Andrà tutto bene” played on the previous album...
Ufo: Yes, “Questa non è una canzone” is a child of “Andrà tutto bene”: a more expansive track, and anyone who's into a certain kind of music picks up on its implications - in fact the central section was, as you say, tucked away in the middle. It's like saying: I'll give you a pop bomb, but I'll hide it at the back, off to one side, with that ad libitum chorus, right in the middle of a song with an unusual structure for us. “Andrà tutto bene” threw off listeners with deeper musical knowledge, with wave echoes, almost kraut in the ending. We like to plant things that are off the beaten path too.
It's not unusual to find big surprises even towards the end of the tracklist on your albums...
Ufo: That happens mainly because we work on the tracklist as if we were putting together a vinyl record, with an A-side and a B-side. Even though today that format is only close to the hearts of pseudo vintage-lovers, we actually treat every running order as if we had to make a 33 rpm record, so it's normal to have some killer tracks in the second half too.
So the key concept, it seems to me, could be: sowing experimentation while keeping an evident stylistic continuity?
Ufo: Like I said before, we like going off-road, we like veering onto the dirt track and then coming back. A song has to be a song, our tracks need to be playable even on the beach, with makeshift instruments. I've seen kids on YouTube in their bedrooms with a guitar, a bottle and castanets playing our songs, and you can tell they're ours. I consider that a fundamental aspect of Zen Circus, like the songs of Credence Clearwater Revival, who make somewhat more psychedelic, longer tracks, but always with the intent of fundamentally writing “songs”, without necessarily having to veer off toward Grateful Dead or King Crimson. With humility, we mean to renew that kind of attitude.
Is the guitar part that closes “Questa è una canzone” the Maestro's work?
Maestro: You mean the part played with the acoustic? No, that's Andrea's. He added it once the tracks were basically finished, it just came to him out of nowhere, and I think it suits the close of that track really well.
This is the first album where you're officially in the line-up. What did you contribute on the songwriting side?
Maestro: The Zen sound has always been very guitar-driven: on record there were layers of guitars that then had to be simplified live, because on stage there was only Andrea's guitar. Now, with two guitars, a lot of those solutions can be carried over into the live dimension too. As for the new record, I brought three or four ideas, which we then fleshed out together.
Rome, Emily, Luca
“Quello che funziona” is a kind of dedication to Rome - where does the urge to set a song in the Eternal City come from?
Ufo: At least from an artistic point of view, Rome is going through some incredible years. “Quello che funziona” was a divertissement that came to Andrea's mind. When he showed it to us we loved it straight away, we also played it for our friends at Radio Sonica and they were in stitches. You know, the theme of the Capital is always interesting for us provincials. It's funny that a band of total small-towners like us, a band that lives off a country that looks like a boot, down in its most far-flung toilets, after “Pisa merda” decides to throw itself into the Capital to paint the portrait of this girl who lives alone, out of place, in the chaotic metropolis, that works but doesn't work, the place where you ought to be, because right now you have to be in Rome, musically speaking today you have to be in Rome. But then in Rome you also find everything else, everything that doesn't work, or that only works in Rome, so it's a nice way of poking fun at it. The country is complicated, you need to travel all of it to really understand it, but the relationship with the capital is always interesting, this track was needed.
Today Emily, two years ago Ilenia - female figures are inhabiting your lyrics with increasing frequency.
Ufo: Getting into a female point of view isn't the easiest thing, but people say we manage to pull it off convincingly.
Appino: For me it comes naturally.
Karim: I've been very much in contact with the feminine universe. Definitely in recent years we've started dealing with female themes more. It wasn't a forced choice, though. Female figures used to be absent, and today they've become an added value for us.
So could you become the female singer that Italy is currently missing?
Appino: The usual clichés about women really piss me off. When I write, I try to avoid them. For instance, there's the idea that a male singer can get away with not being great at singing, but a female singer absolutely has to have a great voice. What about Kim Gordon? In the United States they had Kim Gordon! Forms of male chauvinism. To feel freed from this situation, I always have to go back to Nada. A Peaches would never emerge in Italy. A Chelsea Wolfe even less so. Warpaint or Kim Deal could never have come into being in Italy.
Does the album title also pay tribute to Gino Paoli's evergreen “Il cielo in una stanza”?
Ufo: Of course! There's a wordplay built exactly on that. At a certain point the protagonist says: no longer the sky, but fire in a room. The feeling of bliss expressed in Gino Paoli's song is replaced here by a sense of danger, the breaking off of relationships with the world. The characters have shut the world out, they've excluded themselves from the collective. Just like the protagonist of “Viva”, who couldn't find a solution to the problem, the same situation reappears here. Zen Circus don't write love songs that talk exclusively about the dynamics of a couple, we always look for a social dimension. We have a social calling, we search for a social calling, and expressing ourselves in Italian makes it easier. If I talk about me and you, sure, it's you and me, but then you have to figure out how to relate to everything around us. “Il fuoco in una stanza” is exactly that: it can be a hearth, or it can be a fire that will destroy everything. The answer remains open.
“Caro Luca”, voice and piano, a moving closing track: is it dedicated to a real person?
Ufo: Yes. A real person I also know well. A guy who was part of our circle of friends, someone who supported, accompanied and was part of the Zen's daily life, back when we were the serial troublemakers of Pisa's little squares. Luca was the genius friend who at a certain point disappears. In Pisa there are a lot of talented guys who vanish into thin air and at some point shut themselves indoors. I think the song can carry a universal meaning: in small provincial towns it's not an uncommon thing, the friend from your first cigarettes who's actually somewhere else in his head, a peculiar person. We've all had that friend, and then you wonder what became of him, and nobody has the answer.
So you must have had a Luca of your own too!
Ufo: I was born in Marina di Pisa, a tiny seaside town, and I had a Luca too: we used to steal flasks of wine from my grandfather's cellar and go drink in the pine forest, kid stuff. My Luca was called Alessandro, and our afternoons were made of nothing, spent doing dumb stuff, silly nights out. One day Alessandro fell into depression because he broke up with a girl, and he disappeared. Everyone has their own Luca. The one Andrea is talking about was a close friend of his, whom I remember very well.
Especially in the early part of your career you were often pigeonholed as “combat-folk”. Now, album after album, stylistically you're increasingly veering towards an “alt-rock” sound: do you recognize yourself in this transformation?
Ufo: They also used to label us “folk-punk”, which I preferred to “combat-folk”. Anyway, yes, I recognize myself in the transformation you're talking about. You know, these are historical phases, and nowadays acoustic instruments have taken a bit of a back seat in our songs. The more acoustic tracks just don't come to us anymore. Recently I brought an acoustic bass into the studio, Karim brought his brushes and the whole kit, the beat-up old gear that's part of our repertoire as street musicians. But in the end we didn't use them. These things go in phases. Or maybe we're like those middle-aged people who buy themselves a big fancy car because they can't stand riding around on a little scooter anymore now that they're grown up. It's just a phase, but personally I'd like an acoustic side to come back. Anyway, ours has always been a genuinely rock calling.
There are a lot of feelings on this record, which isn't new for you, but some might accuse you of going soft…
Appino: We're definitely getting older, that much is certain, and the need to talk about feelings comes from a search for a collective idea, maybe it also depends on the fact that I'm not actually experiencing them right now: this is the most anti-sentimental period of my life. Let me explain: if I go through a period where I eat tons of cats, I'll definitely end up writing an album about dog meat. So on this album it turned out that there are as many feelings expressed as I'm not expressing in my own life. It's not a choice made to exorcise the problem, it's that I've shut every gate, so the only place left is writing. Even “Andate tutti affanculo” wasn't really a curse against the world, it was just a scream against myself, a liberating howl born of ten years of crappy jobs and a country full of assholes I didn't recognize myself in. I said “Andate tutti affanculo”, but in actual fact the line was aimed at myself. You can shift that same approach onto a very sentimental record, which becomes the result of what I was saying before. By now musicians are the greatest bards of love, and yet in love they're probably always the worst.
And how are the other Zen members doing with their relationships?
Karim: Apart from my partner and my son, this is a somewhat sore subject, I'd say for all of us. For instance, the person with whom I had the deepest formative relationship is unfortunately no longer with us. Several people we were close to are no longer with us. Personally, today, apart from my family, I have the band.
Maestro: I'm answering the phone to my roommate, who's telling me the water pump has broken down...
Baustelle-isms and prolificacy
Now I'm going to ask you a question, and afterwards I'll explain why I'm asking it: do you like Baustelle?
Ufo: With Baustelle we have a friendship that goes back a very long time: the man who took us on tour for years, working as our tour manager, Enrico Amendolia, played bass with Baustelle in their first incarnation. So we know them well. I find their musical style very far removed from ours. I recognize their merits as a band, as well as their undeniable ability to communicate and to create a quality product, but our languages are extremely different.
Now let me explain why I'm asking: in some parts of the new album I found strong similarities with their 80s pop attitude, revived on the recent "L'amore e la violenza". Particularly in "Rosso o nero", but also in parts of "Sono umano" and "Panico".
Appino: You nailed it! But there's an anecdote here that I'll let Ufo tell you.
Ufo: An obscenely pop record: that's how Bianconi described "L'amore e la violenza", I remember it well. Ah, this really makes me laugh! Just think, when Andrea gave us the draft of "Rosso o nero", which was still just a demo with no lyrics, we listened to it and thought: 'blimey, we should get Baustelle in as guests on this one'. I mean, to me it immediately sounded "Baustelle-ified". Andrea disagreed, he said: wait until I put the lyrics on it. I told him that in my opinion, even with lyrics, that track still smelled like a "Baustelle thing" to me. So I put forward a proposal. The only way to avoid being accused of appropriation, in my view, was to title the track "Baustelle", or else bring Baustelle in directly as guests on the song, just to settle the matter once and for all. So we got moving to involve them, but unfortunately they had other commitments and couldn't join us. Our idea was to have Bianconi sing the chorus: it would have been perfect.
Even though Baustelle arrive at their own synthesis in a more intellectual, sophisticated way, while you get there in a more direct and irreverent manner...
Ufo: I see a big distance between us and Baustelle as a band, in several respects, while still recognizing their undeniable worth. We've known each other for years, we feel close, and not just geographically since we're both from Tuscany: our tour manager used to be one of them. Stylistically we're far apart, but without a doubt some tracks come close. In some parts of the album we ended up with a kind of power-pop, the sort that was made between 1979 and the early 80s. As a reference aesthetic, entirely by chance, certain choices might give rise to similarities with Baustelle's work. We thought of many of the tracks as if they were part of a record released in 1979-1980. Baustelle did that kind of work too, with strong vintage references, so it's natural that certain solutions ended up overlapping a little, though with different premises and results, in my opinion.
The similarity with Baustelle isn't the only one I found, though: in "La teoria delle stringhe" there's a distorted guitar line that recalls "The Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson...
Appino: True!
Ufo: "Il cielo in una stanza" is a very eclectic record.
In "Panico" I can also hear the 80s sound of The Cure...
Ufo: Yes, that's true too.
You're keeping up a brutal pace, an album every two years. How do you manage to be so prolific while maintaining such quality standards? Do you have a particular recipe?
Ufo: We're lucky to have an Appino who's truly a goose that lays golden eggs: he always has ideas, he's constantly sending over batches of files with drafts and demos. He's completely uncensored — for "La terza guerra mondiale" we actually had to sift through about 40 tracks.
So some of the new songs date back to that period?
Ufo: Some even earlier! Others came out during the last tour, we really have a huge number of tracks. That's our good fortune. Appino has no filters, he's not embarrassed by anything, he plays us everything that comes into his head. After that there's a kind of sub-committee, which is the three of us in Zen, Appino included, who at that point becomes a different person, and sits down with us, and thanks to the strong bond we've built over all these years, and musical tastes that by now have perfectly intertwined, works fast and surgically: this track's good, from this one we keep the solo, from that other one we cut a bit, this lyric gets grafted onto that one, and so on. Sometimes the lyrics of one song migrate into another, with everyone's immediate approval. It's all very easy, though of course there can be a squabble that drags on for half an afternoon. I used to raise my voice, but these days I've learned to keep quiet and step aside; Andrea senses that I'm not holding him back, but that I'm staying silent, and if after half an hour of rehearsing he intuitively realizes that the other guys in Zen don't agree with certain choices, or that they'd do something differently, he reopens the discussion. There are few dead ends, we get to the result quickly. We've changed line-up on very few occasions, so time has bonded us together. We're not blessed with extraordinary talent, but we're people who've been doing this for a long time, and we have to get somewhere eventually. Appino is really skilled at churning stuff out. Take "Catene", the track that opens the new album — he brought "Catene" in when recording was almost finished, the album was already at an advanced stage. One Sunday he shows up and says: 'I've got this, I've got one more track.' 'What do you mean?' we said, 'weren't there supposed to be 12 tracks?' And he goes: 'Well, let me play you a draft I recorded.' And what can I say? He'd put in the bassline I would have played, exactly that, he put it in himself, so much so that I told him to keep that line because it was identical to what I would have played. The system is well-oiled, so it works. In turn, Andrea manages to imagine what I would do. The lyrics are almost never revised, because when he presents them to us they almost always match what we would have written ourselves. A really great situation. So the songwriting process is fast. The long part is the mixing, the sounds, giving each song its own structure and a different sonic identity. But writing the songs is very easy for us, we cut, we stitch, we're fast.
And you never stop: no holidays for Circo Zen?
Ufo: The last tour ended in late September, the 25th I think, and by October 15th we were already in the studio with a deadline in mind for releasing the new tracks. Very few holidays, our goal isn't to become famous, but to work: that's an approach we've had from the start. You have to force yourself to work. I'm very lazy: it would have been a disaster if I hadn't had this team pushing me, putting me in a position where I couldn't do otherwise. Together, we've built a situation of mutual drive, and then you feel like you have to do it, you have to play. Maybe I don't feel much like writing or composing, but I love playing live, and I really want to help, to put myself at the service of the band. Combining these strengths and these flaws, you get a group of people who want to work, all together, to reach a common goal. We don't want to become famous, we want to become legendary for how hard we bust our asses. That's the essence of the band.
Has your laziness meant that you're the only member of the band not to have made a solo record?
Ufo: I was in a few bands where I played before Zen, and I wrote in those too. Then I found Zen, and everything I need to express, I express through the band. We play a lot of live shows and I'm happy about that, then I have my dj set activity, and I'd love to do some truly lo-fi projects, completely different from Zen's style, but since I'm lazy, I keep putting them off indefinitely. I've got a dormant project in mind, I'd like to call it Suore Povere, in my head it would be a band bordering on the unlistenable. If I ever do anything, I'll send it your way...
I hear you're also a big vinyl collector...
Ufo: Quite a lot, yes, I should have over five thousand, I love it, whenever I have time I keep doing dj sets, playing all kinds of stuff.
Speaking of side projects: will there be a second album credited to La notte dei lunghi coltelli?
Karim: The project is currently on stand by, but I'm confident we'll give that first chapter a follow-up.
And is Appino thinking about a new solo album?
Appino: Not at the moment. Though I'd like to do something with just voice and acoustic guitar.
The eternal dilemma over the use of the English language
Andrea, I'd like to take the chance to ask your opinion on the choice of language when it comes to songwriting: you're one of those who's gone down both the Italian and the English road…
Appino: I certainly haven't had great results using English: I'm pretty embarrassed by the English-language side of Zen Circus. The only record I like is "Visited", the rest makes me smile when I listen back to it now. If someone wants to move their operational base out of Italy and knows English really well, then sure, they could devote themselves to writing in English. But too many Italians singing in English just make me laugh, I don't find them natural, it's a genuinely linguistic problem. It's fine, if done well - for instance in electronic music Italians are kicking ass, and maybe English fits there. But when it comes to storytelling, how the hell do you tell a story in a language that isn't your own? It's hard to be credible. I don't feel great about the choice of English. I have no regrets about anything, but if I went back, the first thing I'd do would be to sing in Italian. Because today I read the choice I made back then as ridiculous: trying to be something I wasn't.
Or maybe you thought that with the sound you had back then, a bit Violent Femmes and a bit Pixies, English might fit better?
Appino: I was convinced of that like every other idiot who grew up in the '90s. I was against the path of rock in Italian taken by Afterhours or Marlene Kuntz: belonging to a later generation, I naturally went "against" it, I had to do the opposite, unfortunately that's just how we were built. Then when you start writing in Italian, you realize you can get your message across better, and I found myself in a position where I could tell important things, or at least things I was told could be important, and I was like, wow! But it's really a matter of communication.
In what sense?
Appino: As long as the country stays so backward and nobody speaks English, what the hell is the point of singing in English? In a context of internationalizing what you offer, I can see bands like Zu, who've played everywhere, or Calibro 35, who are instrumental - and thank god for that, there language is no longer an obstacle, and if you're good, you can reach everyone. But the country also needs to get moving: we have a gap to close. Take Sweden, where everyone speaks English, and Scandinavian bands are understood within their own borders while also being helped on foreign markets. And anyway it's not just a matter of language skills, but also musical preparation. Iceland produces a Bjork who sings in English and becomes a global superstar. But have you ever heard a Bjork in Italy? You, who listen to a lot of music, have you ever heard one?
Well, if she exists she's really hiding well!
Appino: Exactly, but she's hiding really well! Regardless of the language chosen for songwriting, let's make peace with it: there is no Bjork in Italy!
And in fact you never play your old English-language songs live, even though there are recoverable tracks, like "Sailing Song", which in my opinion is the best Pixies song ever written in Italy…
Appino: We've got quite a few, you know! If we really had to dig them up, maybe we'd need to plan an ad hoc tour.
Why, wouldn't it work to slip one into the setlist, maybe announcing it as one of your early tracks?
Karim: We tried once at a Zen Christmas show, in 2011 or 2012 I think, and the crowd started grumbling after a while. We played four old songs that almost nobody had ever heard before.
Appino: Just think, on an acoustic tour we did a cover of Minutemen, a beautiful song, explaining it to the audience who didn't know it, asking everyone to listen because it was a tribute to a band that had been hugely important to us. The audience accepted it as if doing us a favor: a pretty unpleasant situation. Maybe ten people in the crowd enjoyed it because they understood what it was about. But damn, I'm explaining to you what this song means to me, and even if you don't know it, well, I'm not saying you have to cheer, but at least applaud at the end!
Karim: Anyway, on the other hand, for me, if playing a song like that can change the life of even just one person in the audience, well, it's worth it to me.
Ufo: Actually, some of our early songs could be dug up, maybe tacking them onto the end of a recent track.
Appino: Or maybe do a few dedicated shows.
From Pisa to the whole country
In the meantime, do you still live in Pisa?
Ufo: No, not for quite a while now. Appino, in a gesture of pacification between peoples, went to live in Livorno, Maestro Pellegrini is from Livorno, I've stayed in the Pisa area, though a bit out of town, upholding my provincialist ideology, and Karim is in Forlì. We go through all sorts of contortions to meet up. Our hub of activity isn't Pisa anymore, it's the whole country: we've come to identify with Italy itself.
When you walk around Pisa, does everyone recognize you? People stop you in the street - what do they say?
Ufo: We've always been recognized in Pisa, because it was the first stronghold of our career: we were so relentless about playing around Pisa that even if you didn't want to know us, you ended up knowing us anyway. The incarnation of Zen that people know today started out as street artists - we used to play more than one gig a week in Pisa, we're very well known there.
Weren't there any controversies over there about the lyrics of "Pisa merda"?
Ufo: Some people misread it - certain individuals, knowing them, didn't take it very well, but on the whole not even that much. This is our style, our self-irony, which then spread far and wide elsewhere too - just listen to certain things by Lo Stato Sociale, that very "joker" attitude. Plenty of artists of the latest generation have even taken it to the point of paroxysm. Nowadays you've got people mocking people who mock the people who used to mock them, all the way up to the double backflip of mockery, something that's always been a defining trait of ours. Obviously, the smaller the town, the more you run into parochial attitudes, often tied to football rivalries too. But you have to consider that a very high percentage - I'd say more than half - of Pisa's population is made up of out-of-town students, who got a huge laugh out of the song. A few Pisa die-hards accused us of biting the hand that feeds us. But we already explained in previous songs that we're not biting the hand that feeds us: from that point of view, we're pretty much untouchable.
So many shows in Pisa, and then the tours started: over the years you've played a huge number of gigs all over Italy. Any fun anecdotes to share?
Ufo: We've come close to hitting a thousand shows total. All sorts of things have happened. We hold the record for selling out in Tortora Marina, just to give an example, and in the most unthinkable places. We've racked up so many small-town shows you can't even imagine, ones that very few other Italian artists could ever claim to have done. We've played so many times in Molise, for instance, that today we can scientifically certify and prove that Molise really does exist! I remember various heat records - one right here in Rome, at Locanda Atlantide, a place with no windows, you just die from the heat, totally sealed shut, I nearly died of sweat. Or another time at the Tempio Voltiano in Como, where nobody expected so many people to show up, and so worked up too. It was a summer festival, the organizers had set up barriers, but total chaos broke out: we ourselves had to step in, we had the barriers removed and the crowd poured right onto us. Another time, at Festival Zen, the one we organize ourselves, the stage was literally moved by the crowd.
You always seem to have a blast on stage!
Appino: I love playing live, I'd stay on stage playing forever. I don't get how bands can decide to play so rarely. And it's not a money thing. All things considered, between records and royalties I could probably get by. It's just that I love playing live so much, it's a situation that pumps me up beyond measure.
Sanremo: is something changing?
Guys, in my opinion, "L'anima non conta" would have smashed it at Sanremo…
Ufo: That's exactly what I thought when I heard "La velocità" by Pan del Diavolo, a track that has nothing to envy in even the most classic Sanremo hits. They submitted the song to enter Sanremo, but unfortunately it had already been released, and it wasn't accepted.
Karim: Songs are sometimes born like that, almost by chance - just think, the arrangement for "L'anima non conta" came together in just a few minutes, all in one go.
Maestro: And to think that the final guitar solo was actually my demo take...
Appino: Yeah, there's a particular sound in that solo, it comes from a '60s fuzz, combined with a tremolo and a few other things, then it goes into a tube preamp, not an amplifier - it's not an easy sound to replicate...
Ufo: Careful now, this is getting dangerous, next thing you know they'll be picking up all our little tricks...
But have you ever thought about going to Sanremo?
Ufo: We've sent in songs before.
No way! I didn't know that! What did you send?
Ufo: I honestly can't remember now, we sent... wait... "Il fuoco in una stanza" and...
Ah, so for this edition?
Ufo: Yes, yes, then we also sent "La stagione", but they weren't chosen.
Actually, yeah, I do find those tracks in line with the festival. So Baglioni wasn't a fan of yours...
Ufo: Actually, it's not him who chooses, but his right-hand men - I don't even know how many of these right hands he has. It's not like we sit around thinking about Sanremo, but we have people who work with us and for us, and they suggest we give it a try whenever we have a song that fits the bill. You've got to be relaxed about these things. Personally, like everyone from the '90s generation raised on Sonic Youth, I didn't even want to hear about this stuff. I used to buy loads of records, but out of every 25 I bought, at most one would be Italian, no more than that.
But plenty of people have been to Sanremo without losing themselves...
Ufo: I appreciate that Sanremo tried to shake things up a bit. The guys from Lo Stato Sociale were placed straight among the big names this year, without the tedious rite of passage through the "newcomers" section. A good move, because the Festival needs to catch up with reality. Also because, contrary to what people often think, Sanremo doesn't actually bring about this huge change in the lives of the musicians who take part. Unless you win, you basically go on doing more or less the same things as before. I don't think the lives of Marta sui Tubi changed all that much after Sanremo...
Subsonica went too...
Ufo: The path taken by Subsonica aims to be mainstream: we were born to put together a “popular” proposition, in the most pop sense of the term. Sanremo or not, we would have become big anyway. Going to Sanremo means reaching an audience, but then who knows if they'll come and see you live? That's the crucial point. Two editions of the festival ago, “La terza guerra mondiale” was released during Sanremo season, and it did better than many albums released by artists who took part in the Festival. Not everyone manages to fill the Atlantico or the Alcatraz, despite Sanremo. It's a matter of perception: you went there, the mainstream audience realizes you exist, but the artist might still have the same live following as before - you don't go from small live clubs to the Stadio Olimpico that easily. Only a few manage it. It's hard. Plenty of artists place decently at Sanremo, but then live shows reveal the problems in filling venues. We have no particular prejudice against Sanremo, but we'd like it to become an event closer to reality.
Same goes for talent-show winners...
Ufo: Maybe people watch you, follow you for a bit, they know you exist, but that doesn't mean they'll definitely come to your shows. Once the first few months after the launch are over, you have to see how it plays out. It might be easier to plan a longer tour, but what if the venues end up half-empty? We've never had that problem. We're about to start a tour that will surely be rewarding, but what we care about is working, not becoming famous.
Do you still see Lo Stato Sociale's participation at Sanremo as a step forward?
Ufo: If the Festival's organizers had also taken into account the existence of other artists - I don't know, I'm thinking of potentially nationally popular figures like Ghali or Coez - well, if they'd ever realized these phenomena exist in Italy, it would have been even better.
But that's where record-label lobbying comes into play, pushing certain names at the expense of others...
Ufo: Sure, but regardless of that, Sanremo always lags behind reality. “L'anima non conta” was a Sanremo-type song, “La velocità” was definitely a Sanremo-type song, “La rosa dei venti” by Perturbazione was a Sanremo-type song. And do you know how many songs like that have been written by musicians from our “scene”? Do you know how many classic songs have that “Sanremo” structure?
Tomorrow, today, yesterday: masters and heirs
So, Lo Stato Sociale finished second at Sanremo, Calcutta will play at the Arena di Verona next summer - there are signs. Is this generation achieving results faster than yours did?
Ufo: No doubt about it! I'm happy for them, I'm not someone who believes you have to pay your dues at all costs. It bothers me that someone like Ligabue only found success once he was already a grown man - I don't think that's how things should have worked in Italy back then. It's not right that a band's first album was often treated as just a demo. Now maybe we have the paradox of a musician who hasn't even released a single track yet and is already famous. That looks a bit strange to those of us who came up through years of hard graft, but I'm glad about it. Thankfully that whole '90s era of bands competing against each other is over.
Why, do you find there's more cooperation today?
Ufo: It's not really about cooperation, because everyone still does their own thing, but in the '90s you had top-tier bands and then cover bands, with almost nothing in between - a middle tier that barely existed, with laughable numbers. In that no-man's-land it was outright war: if you found out someone had sold 50 more copies of their demo than you, you wouldn't even speak to them anymore. That's died down a lot today, partly because you know that at any moment you could get a serious beating yourself. These days I see more of an anxiety to make it happen immediately. But I'm happy to see so many artists selling out shows. There's a real appetite for live music. Besides us, there's Brunori, who for instance puts on beautiful, packed shows, and all of this is good. It's a positive thing when people go out to see a concert. You can go see us, or Motta, Dente, Lo Stato Sociale, Coez or TheGiornalisti - all of it, people go out now and see everything. You go to a piazza to watch Lo Stato Sociale and you find people wearing our t-shirt right under the stage - that's something that's good for everyone.
But today do the new acts find the road already paved thanks to all the hard work you put in?
Ufo: Obviously! They make fewer mistakes today, because our mistakes taught them a lot. They understand what's worth repeating and what isn't. Plenty of bands between the '90s and the 2000s broke up because they made the wrong moves, I've seen a lot of thoroughbreds trip themselves up, and in that way a path was laid out for others to follow. Ghali used to come watch us, Motta was one of our employees, he was our sound engineer - these kids understood how it all worked, and today they start out sharper and more aware, they already launch with merchandising in place, with proper organization, they know how to promote themselves, how to use social media. That's wonderful. We used to just wing it: you have no idea how many dead ends we ran into over the years. Kids today are sharper, better equipped, they have far more technological possibilities, you can make an album with less money, beautiful records made in a bedroom.
But since everything's so easy now, doesn't that increase the competition...
Ufo: No, that's not how it is: if you suck, you suck. It's not that simple. If Ghali wasn't talented, he wouldn't have gotten anywhere. A lot of people have sacrificed themselves on this path, worn down until they gave up. With time, a lot of situations will normalize, will level out.
I vostri eredi potrebbero essere Motta e i Fast Animals And Slow Kids?
Ufo: Motta isn't an heir of ours. Even back when he sang with Criminal Jokers, they compared them to a mini-Zen Circus, and he did a lot to break free of that. Motta is a brother to us, I wouldn't feel comfortable calling him our heir. Same goes for Fast Animals And Slow Kids: they're keeping the flag flying for a guitar-driven, very physical kind of rock, and we have huge respect for those guys, I'm glad we've been able to lend a hand, we've let them share our stage, Appino produced their first record. I love them. In my opinion, we don't have heirs, we have brothers instead.
Another band you'd like to mention?
Ufo: Among the ones I've seen recently, whose stage we've shared, I'd like to mention Le Capre a Sonagli. They're not for everyone, but they're really strong. There are a lot of deserving musicians coming up. I'm thinking of Giovanni Truppi, but there are truly so many talented artists. Anyone complaining about the Italian music scene today is being disingenuous. You can find top-level output from rock to electronic music, there's a bit of everything, just think of Cosmo. From clubbing tracks to tear-your-pants-off ballads, I don't see any real problems there. Italy's problems lie elsewhere, certainly not in music.
Which musicians will be remembered in 20 or 30 years as the great names of today's Italian "alternative" scene? Who will be the new De André, Dalla and Battiato?
Ufo: A bit early to say, I don't know. Zen Circus, obviously! Brunori will be Prime Minister, or at the very least an Undersecretary of something, he's already a classic, he's already more "old-school" than Lucio Dalla. Then Bianconi, probably Bianconi.
And what's your relationship like with the other names from the golden age of the Italian "alternative" scene? And how have you always positioned yourselves in relation to that scene, which came just before you?
Ufo: We've often been asked how we feel about the alt-rock scene of the '90s, with its cornerstones, like Afterhours and Marlene. Well, we've always approached things from a different stylistic angle. Some of them may have inspired us, but they didn't really influence us. Manuel Agnelli and I see each other, in fact just a couple of days ago for the recording of an episode of "Ossigeno". He also helped us out with the "Il paese è reale" compilation, when he included us in that project. I recognize the clever, enlightened idea of bringing Afterhours to Sanremo to present a compilation that featured us, Zu, Il Teatro degli Orrori — a bold move. But we feel different from them. I also think of Diaframma: Federico Fiumani and I are very good friends, you might spot the faintest similarities here and there, but I wouldn't really compare us! We start from different premises, even though we share some of the same loves, because Federico lives under the spell and obsession of Television, and for that matter, for us too, not just post-punk, but even the very idea of indie rock is born with Television, modern independent music. We share that love with Federico, but then we're different, and honestly I don't even know what the Diaframma audience thinks of us: sometimes audiences have a perception that's different from reality. Fans of certain bands would be horrified at the idea that we then go out together. Or maybe the opposite is true too. You'd expect us to be living some kind of communal life with a lot of artists from a certain "scene", when actually that's only true up to a point. Some relationships come about by pure chance, take our friendship with Ministri, which started out of a near brawl. The relationships among us are much more varied than an outside observer might imagine.
How did the friendship with Ministri come about, given that they came along after you, generationally speaking?
Ufo: The friendship that ties us to Ministri started with a gig we were both sent to play together somewhere in Lombardy. As soon as we ran into each other, we wanted to beat them up. I thought: I'm about to raise my hands to these guys. Then it turned out we forgot some of our gear on site and they were the ones who recovered it for us. Ministri are an unbeatable live band, I have huge respect for them, live is really where they give their best.
So you'll be guests on one of the upcoming episodes of "Ossigeno", the new TV show hosted by Manuel Agnelli on Rai 3?
Ufo: Yes, we went on as guests, we'll be on one of the upcoming episodes. I found it an ambitious show, of real quality. I can't remember a show like it in Italy, where they have everyone play, all kinds of music, Copeland, Joan Wasser, Editors, Ben Harper, plus a lot of Italian artists of unquestionable quality. I wish him all the best.
Does Agnelli's TV strategy make more sense to you now?
Ufo: Now it's crystal clear! Manuel is a very capable person: he went on X Factor to judge the mainstream scene, in order to then try and show music the way he sees it. Looking back, I understand his moves better now. I get the technique. He went there to act as a representative of an "other world", to the point that 98% of the talent show's viewers had no idea who he even was. He played the part of the guy trashing that whole environment, to the point that he now finds himself at the center of a show that maybe, many years from now, we'll rewatch on YouTube thinking: look what great things they used to do on TV back then! Everyone used to play, how was that even possible? We often watch Black Sabbath on Dutch television, the Ed Sullivan Show, American programs with musical guests, and in Italy we've never had shows like that. If you know how to create the right spaces, you can have anything play. It takes someone who knows how to put together that kind of offering, and it certainly couldn't be us, it takes someone sharp, someone streetwise, someone like Manuel, one of those people who knows how to do this stuff, and he'll pull it off. He's got that Milanese style, of someone who wants things done properly, which we completely lack.
The next step for Zen Circus will be exactly this: guest appearances on Rai3, then out on the road promoting "Il fuoco in una stanza", playing wherever possible, until they're worn out, until Andrea Appino has another fifty or so demos to play for the rest of Zen, and so on, endlessly. Welcome to the Zen Circus!
(04/03/2018)
***
| Interview by Claudio Lancia
To coincide with the release of “Canzoni contro la natura”, the eighth album by Zen Circus, we met up with drummer Karim Qqru. What followed was a pleasant chat about the band's excellent state of health, the hidden meanings of the new record, the importance of singing in Italian, and much more. “Canzoni contro la natura” is your eighth album: can we say that Zen Circus have by now become something of an institution on the Italian indie scene?Well, let's put it this way: for years now we've been busting everyone's balls left and right with endless records and tours (laughs heartily, ed.). But at the start of your career, would you ever have bet on such a long and rewarding path? No. Even though we're all different ages, all three of us cut our teeth mainly through experiences in the centri sociali, where we used to watch lots of bands from the American punk circuit play: ramshackle outfits crammed into stinking tour buses. Back then we were just kids, or barely more than that, and simply imagining that one day we might be able to do a tour like those seemed like an amazing thing to us. We sweated to grow and start taking our music on the road. At the beginning of our journey as "Zen Circus" we were a sort of Armata Brancaleone on tour: we played in downright spartan conditions, sometimes seasoned with mind-boggling, almost surreal episodes. A caustic and hugely entertaining education in life. Then, over the years, you managed to achieve some important goals… We managed to achieve goals that were huge for us, like having on one of our records Brian Ritchie, Kim Deal and Jerry Harrison, heavyweights from legendary bands like Violent Femmes, Pixies and Talking Heads; bands we grew up on musically as teenagers, and that we've continued to love. What would you consider your greatest victory? At the end of the day, the biggest achievement is having managed, over the years, to turn our visceral love of music into a job. The new album arrives after a short break, during which some of you got involved in launching parallel projects. Do you feel enriched by these "solo" experiences? Did unplugging for a few months and devoting yourselves to "other things" have any positive knock-on effects on the Zen Circus microcosm? Of course. We needed a break, after six years of nonstop touring and recording. That's how my project "La notte dei lunghi coltelli" came about, along with Andrea's solo debut ("Il testamento"), and Ufo's well-received DJ sets. Getting back into the rehearsal room after a few months of separate lives gave us an enormous urge to play together. A desire that's always been there in the past, mind you, but that came back in recent months in a dense, explosive way. Parallel projects are always useful, in my opinion: you step out of your protected nest and look out onto a whole world still to be discovered, with no safety nets. A tonic from every point of view, one that strengthens you all round. What were the premises behind the conception of "Canzoni contro la natura"? At times it gives the impression of being a kind of concept album about human nature. Is that the right impression? "Canzoni contro la natura" isn't really a concept album: within its ten tracks there's a whole range of musical and thematic variety. A couple of songs pick up the thread started with "ATA" and "Nati per subire", while the other tracks unfold along lines that tend to build their own path, independent of the last two albums. The nature being examined is human nature. Mother nature is a fatalistic pretext to dig even deeper into the human soul; but it's not an environmentalist record, it's certainly not Zen Circus's "Green"! Tell us how your songwriting process works: has it changed over the years? We usually work like this: Andrea brings in some guitar riffs and the lyrics, then all together we build the song, produce it and arrange it, only stamping the "zen" seal on the lyrics once all three of us are satisfied with them. But most of the time Andrea's lyrics are already perfect as they are. At most, as a group, we'll just tweak the odd line. In your lyrics, always incredibly rich, you show you have a whole world of things to tell, and you demonstrate that just as well in the new songs, like in the human degradation of “Viva” or the intergenerational confusion so well portrayed in “Postumia”. Do you feel like standard-bearers for a generation these days? No, basically because we're not giving the audience answers, just an observation of the surrounding environment seen from our perspective. Situations are often described in the first person, other times they're painted through the creation of ordinary characters, into whom we inject our own character. But how do you see this generation? Disoriented? Disillusioned? Resigned? Or does it want to change things? Personally, I don't think there's a term to describe this generation. We're a thousand social, emotional and political currents blended together, within which cynicism, optimism, drive, moral lowliness, boredom, resignation and passion all coexist side by side. Looking back, can we say that the choice to switch to singing in Italian was the key to your success? Do you think that if you'd kept singing in English, the response would have been the same? By using Italian we managed to communicate in a more direct and fitting way, there's no doubt about that. It would have been harder to tackle certain subjects in English. Success would never have been the same, but the switch to Italian wasn't premeditated, and it began two albums before the full turning point. That said, we've still carried forward the idea of singing in any language. For instance, with the EP “Metal Arcade”, released in 2012, we used Spanish, Finnish, English and Italian. Could using Italian cut off any ambitions on foreign markets? Certainly, but right now we're focused on the Italian territory. In the past, to support the album “Villa Inferno” we did a wonderful two-week tour in Australia, with Brian Ritchie of the Violent Femmes on acoustic bass. It's not out of the question that in the future we'll feel like seriously trying to set foot outside Italy again. I found your adventure as Nada's backing band very interesting: you showed you weren't afraid to take the risk of putting yourselves on the line in that situation. What did that experience leave you with? Ultimately, did it also help widen your audience? It was one of the finest experiences of our career, we learned an enormous amount. Even though we'd completely rearranged the live set to our own taste (which also had to match Nada's taste), we were hired musicians, with all the work ethic that entailed. Wonderful, I really mean it. She and Gerri (her husband and manager) are two amazing people, after a few weeks we already felt like family. Playing a lot, everywhere, is always good for you: you have fun, it makes you more professional, it adds experience and also audience. We're in the Sanremo season. After Afterhours, Marlene Kuntz, Subsonica, Mauro Ermanno Giovanardi (just to name a few coming from the indie scene, who went to the festival without really losing themselves along the way), do Zen Circus also think they might one day go present a song of their own on that stage? I don't think so. It's definitely a fun experience, because you find yourself inside a crazy circus that you know you could never, ever truly be part of. Anthropologically speaking, it'd be a great week! What have you been listening to over the past few months? I've been going through these albums: Converge – All We Love We Leave Behind Albert Ayler – Spiritual Unity Iosonouncane – La macarena su Roma Sick Of It All – Death To Tyrans Aphex Twin – Selected Ambients As for Ufo and Andrea, I couldn't give you a detailed list: we all listen to a lot of music. Ufo is a vinyl collector, I think he's up to about five thousand now. What do you like about the Italian independent scene? One really beautiful thing is the bond that tends to form with other musicians. During tours you need to be in a kind of "brotherhood" environment, the crew becomes your family. Constantly being on the road, you meet other bands, make friends and maybe start playing together, guesting on each other's records or shows. Playing around Italy, you're constantly coming into contact with a lot of emerging bands. Are there any names you'd like to point out? Progetto Panico, an Umbrian band whose first official album I just produced, which will come out in March. We invited them to open a few dates of the new Zen tour. Then, beyond the whole notion of "emerging band", there are Fast Animals And Slow Kids, Bologna Violenta, Iosonouncane, Mamuthones and plenty of others. There's also a really interesting hard scene in Italy right now — in the sludge, doom and experimental fields there are some fantastic bands. Any names you'd like to collaborate with in the future? Personally I'd love to collaborate with Han Bennink and Kurt Ballou. Another musician we love enormously is John Fogerty. The new promotional tour is about to kick off — what are the next steps after that? Will there be room again for your side projects? Now the touring caravan sets off again, who knows when it'll stop, maybe when it crashes into a traffic island (laughs, ed.). I think in the future we'll find time again for our side projects. Taking a break for a few months every now and then does the band a lot of good. To wrap up this conversation, I have to say you seem very satisfied with the new record. “Canzoni contro la natura” is the first Zen Circus record that all three of us are 100% happy with. We really love all ten tracks. On previous albums there was always one song that didn't fully convince one of us, which is a perfectly normal thing to happen. Approaching the writing of “Canzoni contro la natura” with a calm, relaxed attitude really benefited the album.
(26/01/2014) |
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| Interview by Paolo Arzilli
The great thing about interviewing a band like Zen Circus is that, beyond the interest and curiosity an interviewer generally has for the people in front of him, there's also the desire to check whether what you hear about them actually matches reality. During this interview, no firecrackers went off, and that's already a good thing. Yes, Zen Circus are three thoroughly likeable jokers, in the noblest sense of the term, meaning they're extremely informal, easygoing and down to earth; that's the second good thing. Yes, Zen Circus talk a lot and gladly, with the exception of the handsome Appino, who probably faked having real reasons to slip away during question number four, only to come back just in time for dinner. To make a long story short, we interviewed them before the November 5th show at The Cage in Livorno, the opening date of the tour for the new “Born to Suffer“. We talked about Italian and foreign music, flyer distribution, the Cold War, Sgarbi, Feltri, the supposed end of ideologies, university, Dave Grohl, and the promotional photo for the tour showing them sitting shirtless on a bench, which, in the shared opinion of both interviewer and interviewees, has a vaguely smug homosexual undertone. Below, some of the things we talked about. First question: how much of what you write is autobiographical? Appino: A lot, in many ways. Consider that “Figlio di puttana” is the story of my family, of what used to happen in my house. The expression “vecchi senza esperienza”, which we later used as a title, was something Ufo's mom used to say all the time. Ufo: And “hai una macchia nera sul cuore”, which we later used in “We Just Wanna Live”, is what my teacher at school always used to tell me, because I wasn't baptized. Karim: The same goes for “Franco”, another lyric inspired by a guy Appino met while working at a flyer-distribution company, which pretty much all of us have passed through at some point. Appino: I lasted five years there, Ufo two months. I know you call yourselves a rock band, but there's actually a strong singer-songwriter spirit in what you do: did Zen Circus start out electric or acoustic? Appino: At the start, when we began, we were doing grunge, noise stuff; things completely different from what we do today. A turning point was deciding to become buskers, to play in the street, where you're forced to rethink what you do in more acoustic terms, and that's maybe where the singer-songwriter side comes out, or what abroad they call a “folksinger”. Let's touch on the subject of the Italian language: your albums, some in English, this latest one in Italian, are they “planned” in a given language, or is the choice a natural one, almost as if it came from a chain of consequences? Appino: I should say that I love Italian singer-songwriter music, and I've tried to mix it with other styles I liked, and still listen to. As far as I'm concerned, it was a spontaneous process. Karim: I agree, there's nothing calculated or strategic about it; for now we've always allowed ourselves to do what we like without overthinking it. Let's keep talking about Italy: over here, traditionally, we love to complain. A classic line is “music just isn't what it used to be”; how do things really stand? Ufo: In Italy we have great things going on. We have bands doing excellent work in Italian, for instance Il Teatro degli Orrori. Personally, I'm convinced that in our country there's a tendency to glorify the 80s and 90s, without realizing that right now we actually have better things than back then. Appino: The problem that remains in Italy isn't about quality, it's about opportunities: it's hard to reach abroad, to get beyond our borders. It's an issue that comes down to production. Let's talk about your relationship with success: how much do things like magazine covers, interviews, or record sales affect you? Do you feel more responsible toward someone, or something? Karim: Honestly, none of it changes anything for us. It pushes us to be ever more professional, to raise the bar, but that's something we've always been trying to do anyway, it doesn't depend on sales or on the media. We don't want to speak for anyone, everyone can think with their own head, and there will never be a chance that Zen Circus decide a certain lyric should be changed for the sake of some sense of responsibility. We're on our seventh album now, thankfully, at this point it would be stupid to start taking special precautions or making weird calculations. Ufo: Whatever anyone tells me, freedom of expression comes first for me. So I write exactly what I feel like, there's no such thing as bad role models, and we have absolutely no desire to speak on anyone else's behalf, or to be handed that kind of responsibility. On the same topic, in Italy, as soon as an artist has some early success, people like to say they could become the “voice of a generation”: how do you deal with the idea that this could happen to you too? Ufo: If this generation actually had a voice to bring out... honestly, let's be serious, that's a load of nonsense, catchy phrases that newspapers and magazines occasionally need to trot out to impress someone. It's just as ridiculous as the political label that can get slapped on you, which always comes from the need to find points of reference at a time when, in politics, none can be found. Karim: Which is also understandable, there's very little cultural debate and people cling to whatever they can find, but it's still nonsense. Ufo: And then, you see, nowadays anything that isn't friendly, accommodating, gets labeled as left-wing; as for us, like I said, we don't want to speak on anyone else's behalf, we're completely sympathetic to anyone who refuses to be anyone's spokesperson. Consider too that maybe, in other times, we would have been branded as fascists, just like it happened to Rino Gaetano. Karim: To put it briefly, we're social, not political: we don't want to have ideologies pinned on us. You open the song “Egoista” with the line “col disincanto ci marci un po'”: who were you thinking of when it was written? Karim: Appino wrote that line, it refers to the figure of the egoist, in general terms, maybe even himself, in a way. It's a line that pushes back against the cynical, calculated disenchantment that we ourselves sometimes indulge in. Ufo: That's exactly it, an “exercise in cynicism” that gets used as if it were meant to tone up the spirit, but in reality it's almost always out of place, it's stupid: when it starts being used to play the superman, that's the moment to stop, to change the game. Karim: And it's also a fairly common game, that of the a priori "contrarians": it's a tactic used to upend things, to cause disruption. Ufo: Exactly. Sgarbi, Feltri… I've no qualms saying it, these figures ought to be weeded out, they're the ones who've spent a lifetime cultivating studied, calculated attitudes with the sole purpose of destabilizing people. |
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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.