Paolo Benvegnù - Journey to the Centre of Man

by Magda Di Genova

In an out-of-season Christmas storm, which didn't discourage a devoted audience, Paolo Benvegnù explains the reasons for his tension to me even before we sit down on the sofa…

I'm always really nervous when I play in Milan, and this two-man setup with Andrea (multi-instrumentalist Andrea Franchi, ed.) isn't all that solid yet, so I'm always on edge, also because it's been a while since I last played live. It's been a rather turbulent end and start of the year, and it surprises me to be back out playing now that I'm no longer used to it. These days I'm working a lot in the studio, producing bands. Then I did this theater tour with Riondino and Bollani for a show called “Presepe Vivente Cantante” in which I played the singing figurine, and it's very simple: there's that monster Bollani playing away, improvising everything, and all I have to do is more or less fall in line with his guesses. Coming back to play, coming back to do my own things isn't always easy for me, it's a problem of mine: I really have to get used to it again, get back in touch with myself.

New album coming out…

It's a new single. I still have to figure out what's in it, in the sense that I'm trying to write new tracks and also revive some old ones, ones that didn't make it onto “Piccoli Fragilissimi Film”, and try to give them a new life. What I'm thinking about a lot right now, more than reality, is the imaginary, how much the imaginary invades our lives. Aside from the fact that the single has something to do with “Cerchi nell’acqua” (a track from “Piccoli Fragilissimi Film”), I've gone back to the imaginary and I'll try to write tracks that deal with that, and then, in May, I'm planning to work on the second chapter of the Paolo Benvegnù project, which is a group project despite carrying my name.

So themes that have to do with the imaginary, a subject very different from the ones you dealt with on the album.

What actually happened is this: over this past year I've realized I'm thinking more about what isn't happening to me than about what is happening to me. It's strange, it's as if I sense that we all have these parallel lives, different ones, that we don't live because obviously we only live one of them for real. But I have this distinct feeling that, instead, these lives play out in some other dimension where we live with other people, having other experiences. I don't know if it's my curiosity that's just not brave enough to go explore the other sides, the other faces of this die. Day by day the perspectives shift. Life is so strange - you might build something solid for years, and then one day it all collapses and you have to rebuild everything. It's not easy.

“Piccoli Fragilissimi Film” has already turned one. Shall we take stock? It seems to have gone more than well.

Yes, maybe too well, in the sense that these are songs. There are 6 or 7 songs that have been very important to me and that are truly part of my life. The lucky thing is that these have been heard by other people who feel that some of these songs are part of their life too. It's an incredible privilege and sometimes I wonder if I'm able to bear that kind of privilege. There are more times when I question myself than times when I stop and tell myself I did a good job. I think it was a record made with good intentions, but I didn't expect this kind of success, I didn't expect it to be heard by so many people, and I'm happy about that, of course - how could I not be?

Is it still the first chapter of the “fabric trilogy”?

(He smiles) I don't know, because there should be a consolidation phase. Actually, over this past month I've discovered just how much every one of our convictions has to do with... (he notices I'm shivering, it's really freezing cold. He takes off his coat and, despite my trying to convince him I'll be fine in a bit, forces me to keep it on my shoulders) ...my idea was to go and consolidate a certain kind of expression of reality. I see that every day all my convictions shatter. That doesn't mean anything, there's nothing decadent about it. Things change, and I hope they evolve. In this case, since I'm not writing much because I'm producing a huge number of bands (including Terje Nodgarden, Perturbazione and Marylù Lorén), I hope some ideas come back to me. I have a lot to say, but basically I don't have the time to say it, and now it's really starting to weigh on me, so I really hope that from May onward I'll have the time to do it all.

There's a lot of curiosity about the cover of “Piccoli Fragilissimi Film”. Personally, knowing about the trilogy, I see a lot of fabric: the shirt, the tie and the jacket, but why all that red?

Because the idea was to tell stories that were undeveloped - meaning, developed in a darkroom. Actually, that red has nothing to do with anything literally bloody, even though, honestly, I went through a period when I lived through everything that happened to me in a very "visceral" way.

The idea was that this film, this reel, would stop at the moment of development, from when it comes out of the acid bath and nothing more, without ever being projected. Because I realized that the ideas we have, and even the small inventions each of us makes, are important to us. The fact that they might be important to others shouldn't even cross our minds. To me it was an invitation to always keep a low profile.

This is what I think: that an artist - assuming I can even call myself one - has to maintain this kind of bond with his own work. Take photographs, develop them, and keep them for himself. Then, for whatever reason, these things get out and end up circulating.

It has to do with this: that I see the world as if through a darkroom, and this way of conceiving the world matters to me.

One curiosity: is it true that Irene Grandi covered “E’ Solo un Sogno”?

It's absolutely true. It's strange because I was doing this small theatrical tour of Pinocchio, with a small company from Florence, and someone who worked with me played drums in that show - I played guitar and sang - and she was working with Irene Grandi on the album (“Prima di Partire”, 2003). I gave her some demos, she listened to them, she really liked that song and she recorded it. It worked out really well for me, in the sense that it was such a simple song - “E’ Solo un Sogno” is a very quiet song, whose only ambition is to say what it says: that we're usually a bit too quick, and we don't realize that, many times, we love things out of nostalgia rather than for what they actually are in the moment we love them. She simply liked it, she recorded it, and I was happy. I actually preferred the single version (“Prima di Partire per un Lungo Viaggio”) to the one that ended up on the album. It was strange, too, going up on stage with Irene Grandi a couple of times (he covers his eyes with his hands while smiling) and singing.

Over the last two years I've had so many different kinds of experiences - with a village band of seventy-year-olds, with Riondino and with Bollani, with dance companies - that this one with Irene is just another of those experiences that, I think, have enriched me. At the very least, I have to say, it also enriched my bank account a little, because, living constantly on the edge, some SIAE money, some royalties for that song came in and, of course, that made me happy - I'd be a hypocrite if I said otherwise. Unfortunately, I have to say, I struggle a lot, like everyone who works with me on this project, just to make ends meet, and I had the chance to live for a month without the constant worry of having to pay rent, since that matters too.

Now I have to ask: the crisis of the record industry and the crisis of the music world. You, who among other things have worked both with the so-called majors and with independent labels, what do you think about it?

The crisis of the record industry, in my opinion, goes hand in hand with a crisis of ideas. Basically, what I see is this: when someone manages to do something even slightly important, and people feel a connection with that artist, one way or another things start moving. So the problem with record sales is that the majors used to sell records by bluffing their way through, and now it's genuinely difficult - not because, paradoxically, listeners' cultural level has risen, but actually because there's less money around and because people download music for free from the internet. In my opinion, though, things haven't changed all that much: basically, whoever is good manages to carve out their own path, even if it's harder now, and whoever isn't as good doesn't. It's always been like that. As someone who isn't the best, but decent enough, I struggle, and it's right that I should. I see things in a very natural way.

Paolo, but you also chose to work in a genre that isn't exactly “easy”.

If I'd had other human and artistic traits, probably . if it had come naturally to me to do very pop things. basically I don't have that kind of background, I don't have a “pop” background, I have a. (laughs) I don't even know myself what kind of background I have (during the show he'll play a Tuxedomoon track) it's all zigzagging between different things and it comes naturally to me to do what I do. I realize that a lot of the time, even during shows, the atmospheres are really “dense” and, unfortunately, at this point in my life, I can't be any “lighter” than I am. I promise you we're a bunch of idiots, but when it comes time to make a record or play shows, this pathos is exactly what comes over me, and right now in my life I can't shake it off, so I'd rather be natural, maybe have fewer chances, maybe get on people's nerves a bit, rather than force myself to be different at all costs. Unfortunately that's how I am, and just managing to accept yourself is already a huge struggle, and that could be the first step towards some kind of change. I'm trying to work on myself about this. Let's see if I manage.

Going back to what you said earlier. A lot of people think you're a one-of-a-kind musician in Italy…

(He smiles and thinks about it) I don't know. I feel that, over time, trying to strip away the superstructures too, obviously, I was moving towards my own diversity. It's obvious, each of us develops our own non-sameness, it's normal, because following your own intentions has to do with that. Luckily.

Then, you say this thing, but honestly I don't feel it. I feel that somewhere out there are people who really care about me, and on one hand that's an extraordinary thing: if they saw me in everyday life, how much of an idiot I am (laughs) they surely wouldn't have this kind of “image” of me. On the other hand, this puts a lot of responsibility on me, and, for instance, the fact that today I'm less confident than other times, less “seasoned” than other times, puts me under tension. . Probably because I torment myself a lot and tormented people have something to do with me. Even though I think they're “normal” torments. I remember that even back when I was with Scisma I thought I was truly unique, unfortunately I was a rather conceited person in that respect. Now I think everyone has their own uniqueness, their own specificity, and it's only thanks to that that things go on in a reasonably. human way: we're different, and thanks to those differences we manage to relate to one another. Just imagine what a horrible world it would be, a world full of flat, uniform people!

Lighter questions now. I was asked to get you to explain why you start every show with a different populist regional accent each night.

(Smiling) With an accent. can you say that again?

Populist.

It's true, but I don't know why. It comes naturally to me. It's that I'm a bit embarrassed, and when the ice needs breaking, I do this thing. I do South Tyrolean really well (in a South Tyrolean accent). I need to “thaw myself out” a bit. Lately I've managed to be a bit more natural, but I need to really believe in what I'm doing. I can't always manage it because believing that much in what you do is typical either of geniuses or of the conceited. I don't think I'm either of those, so I hop about, I do a bit of tomfoolery, a bit of vaudeville, because I need to “thaw myself out”. In fact this isn't really the right thing to do, but I'm still a bit insecure despite being 40 years old. I'm growing, and who knows, maybe one day I'll really manage to get past this.

Best tour of 2004 according to the Mei, and tonight, as a press release puts it, the “White Stripes” version.

(Smiles) None of that's true! “Sad songs for two” version, that's more like it! You know, we joke about it too, obviously. We were thinking about putting a black wig on Andrea.

It was strange. For me the best tour of 2004 was clearly that of Marta Sui Tubi (named best band of 2004 by the Mei) or Northpole. They're truly wonderful bands. We played a handful of dates, some shows that I think were really moving, but it depends on what people want. Right now, I'll say it again, that's the chord I strike, that's who I am, or at least who I've been. I couldn't tell you what I'll do tonight, because I don't know how I am right now, I'm a bit wrecked.

This two-piece version is special because, in a way, if we play well and get it right, it's exactly the essence, the exact summary of what these songs are. If we play badly . (laughs)

Something I very much doubt.

No, no, I don't doubt it, not tonight.

There's always cabaret to save you.

Actually tonight I'll go straight to Sicilian cabaret. He and I are a bit like Ciccio Ingrassia and Franco Franchi, after all.

What do you think of Sanremo? Do you think it will ever improve?

I don't think so. I don't think there's any real desire to improve it. Personally, that's not something I'm interested in. What would interest me a lot is playing with an orchestra. I'm actually having that kind of experience right now with a band, and playing with a seventy-piece band is really beautiful, for me. The point is that would be a wonderful experience.

I think things won't improve because the entire Italian record market revolves around Sanremo. I'm not talking about numbers, but about months of work: the Italian majors work for four, five, six months on Sanremo — three months before and three months after. To prepare things and for promotion, and if you think about it, half of your yearly effort is concentrated on a single event. It's madness. So, obviously, things will change when this festival becomes a showcase of the best talent. Maybe, if some good artists take part and do worthwhile things, it can change the audience's perception, but the games being played behind the scenes will never change. I saw some crazy things this year: they're trying to bring zombies back!

Also because this year all the independent labels were excluded, Mescal included, and that, in my opinion, is very sad.

It's the classic restoration. Besides, if you think about it, look: over the last three years the atmosphere in Italy has changed, and to me, the mood you can feel is one of full-blown restoration. Maybe I'm wrong, but there's a well-defined space for Catholics, and much less defined space for secular people; original ideas, or in any case interesting ones, are usually never developed on the major media outlets, and the good things that do work, I'm talking about even interesting radio programmes, get picked up and then sidelined. It's a period of heavy censorship, and Sanremo follows exactly that kind of dynamic. Fine, so be it. It makes me want to move to France in 2006 if that other guy happens to win again.

Because in France too...

Because in France too it's not great, it's dreadful. But if you think about the movements they've made, beyond the surface appearances — and the French really know what they're doing, because they've always been ruthless colonialists, and even now they've got a ton of interests all over the world. Still, the French right-wing government seems much more left-wing than a likely centre-left opposition in Italy right now. Paradoxically. Either way, they've tackled certain problems and are trying to solve them, just think about racial integration alone. France is fifty years ahead. I don't want to sound like I'm just ranting on about how nothing works in Italy, but what I see is a lack of courage. I don't think I'm particularly brave myself, but this thing still weighs on me a bit.

Do we lack courage, or are we just too traditionalist?

No, it's a matter of courage. Let's say you're a journalist and you read the news bulletins on the radio. You get the press releases and you don't check them, obviously you just read what the news agencies say. Did these things really happen? The big problem is that having the courage to take the time to actually do your job properly, I mean from a civic point of view, costs you a lot, it means you get pushed aside, sidelined — because there's always someone ready to take your place — so it's a matter of courage. Traditionalism exists in Italy, it exists in the south, it exists in the centre, it even exists in the north, but it's not really a question of tradition, it's a question of superficiality and lack of courage, in my opinion, and sometimes lack of honesty with oneself, above all.

Let's talk about something else. What's the best book you've read?

(Laughs) There's a book I'm reading right now that I really like: "Saggio sulla Lucidità" by Jose Saramago, which isn't actually an essay, but a novel.

And what about film? Have you ever done anything for cinema?

Yesss! (all pleased with himself, and poking a bit of fun at himself) I even acted in a film called "Poliziotti", with Kim Rossi Stuart, Michele Placido, Claudio Amendola, Stefania Rocca, where actually, we — Scisma — were playing in a venue and there was this whole film crew there. A 1995 film by Giulio Base, where we acted, sang, and did two tracks for the soundtrack.

Also, right now I'm working with a band from Rome, the Marylù Lorén, and one of these guys is Salvatores's live sound recordist (he's currently shooting his latest film), and another is the assistant to the costume designer who worked with Stanley Kubrick, among others. Even though my favorite icon from a cinematic point of view is Jacques Tati, because only the nimble manage to describe human misery with so much grace, which is why I like him so much.

Have you ever tried to write a screenplay? Come on, how many times, watching a film on TV, have you thought to yourself: "What a load of rubbish, I could have done better than that"?

(Smiles) That happens to me a lot, but I don't have that ambition. Also because when I write I tend to get a bit too carried away, and if I had to write a plot-driven screenplay I'd go crazy, I'd never manage to do it.

I'll give you a small example: I watched "Closer" – I had an hour to kill and went to see that idiotic film – and anyone could have done better (smiles). Terrible.

It's also a matter of having a bit more courage.

Let me give you a small example: last night I rewatched a film by Amenábar: "Open Your Eyes", have you seen it?

I've seen it, but I didn't like it much.

Ah. "Vanilla Sky" was later made from "Open Your Eyes". "Vanilla Sky"?

I watched the first ten minutes, then I turned it off because it disgusted me even more than the other one. (big smile so you don't throw me out the window)

Paradoxically, I wasn't particularly impressed by either of these two films, but, in a way, in this case, paradoxically Hollywood explained the plot much less than the original film did, the Spanish one, where you actually understand this dream. If anything, Hollywood, at that moment, was braver than a small Spanish production, or a mid-sized one.

Yes, okay, but you had Tom Cruise!

Then again, it's no coincidence that in Italy every film of any real substance still has to have a well-known actor or actress, or a TV personality. That's a sad thing, and it's also what leads starlets, rather than real actresses, to end up on stage in theatre. Like I told you: we're a country of people who lack courage, so you have to make the books balance, and people only go to see what they already see on television. That said, you shouldn't be sad about it.

No, I'm not sad, I was just thinking. I don't think it's fundamentally "sad", I find it, like you said earlier, "superficial". Someone who goes to the theatre to see Marini – I should say upfront that I haven't seen her and don't know how good she might have been – playing, say, the role from "The Blue Angel".

My God!

Exactly! It's worrying! Then maybe I calm down when I show up outside the theatre at nine in the morning to queue for Ute Lemper tickets, and I find out I'm not the first in line, and by the time I get to the box office, I'm sixteenth in line! That I actually prefer, but try stopping someone in the street and asking if they like Ute Lemper!

Sure, I get that, but the problem is that these things happen because artists aren't rigorous enough with themselves. At a certain point there's a moment when you say: "I have to make ends meet, so what do I do? I take the cheap gig." But there's cheap gig and cheap gig. I have to say, I've done my share too: I've done things in theatre, or with dance companies, to earn 200 euros so I could go grocery shopping. Now I don't want to be too dramatic about it, we live in a globally wealthy country, so I can't really complain, but it's tough when you're 39 with 5 euros in your pocket and no idea what tomorrow holds. It's happened to me plenty of times. So you can take the small cheap gig. But personally, aside from the fact that I don't think I have some dazzling talent that would give me the right to say this, I'll say it anyway (raising his voice and smiling): I wouldn't take a job just to completely change my life. If someone came to me and said: renounce everything you believe in and become the singer of, I don't know, Forza Italy's flagship band, sing the horrible songs we tell you to sing, and become a billionaire for life, you and your children down to the seventh generation, I would never do it. Never! Me, at least. How many others would say the same? I'm not saying I'm the only one, there are plenty of others, but plenty of others wouldn't say no.

What I mean when I say a person lacks rigor. If I, a poor girl who works in television, get a call from someone at the Teatro Stabile telling me I need to become the best Madama Butterfly within a month, I know full well that's impossible: it takes me a year! In a year I'll give it a shot. Instead, people take everything on because there are managers making deals and you take whatever comes your way, even if you're unprepared. That's how television is anyway, it's all work off the teleprompter, work that comes together in the moment. Ultimately it's all a work of improvisation. There's an art to that too, and in Italy we're extremely good at improvising everything, the problem is that we don't have artists of international stature. The only truly great artist of international stature, in my opinion, at a certain level, was Carmelo Bene, if you look at the last forty years.

And we're talking about Carmelo Bene, an artist who was always waaaay over the top…

Exactly! Let me give you an example with an actor like Gian Maria Volonté. When Lino Banfi dies, they'll surely prepare — rightly so, of course — a state funeral. Three weeks have passed since the tenth anniversary of Gian Maria Volonté's death, and no one aired a film, no one remembered him. Not even the specialist programs. And that tells you a lot. Basically, in this country, the old saying from the Hundred Years' War still holds: "Whether it's Franz or Spain, as long as we eat." It's not a sad thing: it's just a fact. Then everyone chooses whether to live here or somewhere else.

The chat was pleasant, long, and at times not very music-focused. We're called back to order for a memorable concert.

(Milan, La Casa 139 – January 18, 2005)

The photo of Paolo Benvegnù is by Fabio Stefanini and used by kind permission.