Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti - Enrico and the Storm

The chance to talk with Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti comes courtesy of yet another sold-out show on their still-ongoing new tour. This time in Rome, at a packed Black Out. That TARM have become a band capable of moving crowds (even across just a few weeks between dates in the same city) is no secret. For a couple of tours now, their shows have been a string of triumphant receptions, songs sung at the top of everyone's lungs, and the constant glow of smartphones — replacing the old lighters and disposable Kodaks. The first impression is of a nostalgic crowd, aching in anticipation of the war horses, but that's only an impression. Sure, the enthusiasm and emotion when "Occhi Bassi" kicks in are hard to put into words, yet the ovation on the opening notes of "I Cacciatori" (from the latest "Nel Giardino dei Fantasmi") suggest an audience that's attentive and very much in step with the times.

Davide Toffolo, wearing his usual mask right to the end of the show, doesn't jump around as much anymore and talks even less, proving once again how the frame of a man who wears a Yeti costume like it's nothing actually hides a forty-eight-year-old who, for one night, might not feel like playing the eternal teenager at all costs. Chapeau. So we come to this interview fired up like Lester Bangs at an indie-label meeting. We expected the same from Enrico Molteni, bassist of Tre Allegri and the mastermind behind La Tempesta Dischi, our interlocutor in this long back-and-forth. We believe we gave him, on more than one occasion, the chance to untangle a few threads and get a few things off his chest. Sometimes he did. Very often, he didn't. Maybe we got it all wrong, but one thing's certain: the ways of political correctness are more infinite than the ways of the Lord.

Concept album. Air quotes or not. Is the concept-album fad back, or is it maybe, more pleonastically, just the urge to indulge a whim, a satisfaction — like the vinyl, the theater concert, the concept album?

Mmmh, I think "In the Garden of Ghosts" can be considered less of a concept album than "Primitives of the Future". There are different shades to it, and the themes range widely. It's the sound that holds everything together. "Primitivi del futuro", on the other hand, had a common blend, a single color, one thematic thread. And anyway, I don't think you can call it a whim — there are shared landscapes running through the development of different artistic careers. Usually, or at least for us, you don't make things by excluding what came before.

"Nel Giardino dei Fantasmi", "Testament", "The New World". I'll throw in "Fantasma" too, for fairness's sake and because what's right is right. All concept albums, always with or without air quotes. Have you ever thought that, seen from the outside, you might just look like you're competing over who's got the biggest one?

Each of us works on our own, I don't think there's any real competition. To some we all look alike, but each of us rightly feels a certain personal distinctiveness from the context we're placed in. Although maybe a bit of rivalry would help — the battle between bands has always worked, there are plenty of well-known historical cases.

The new songs feel more "written", there's certainly a more lucid production, and strangely the idea of a bright/positive side ("La Mia Vita Senza Te") and a dark/negative one ("Il Nuovo Ordine") has been put to (once again) great use. Was the intention to be simply complicated, or hard to communicate with?

I think the effort we put in ends up complicating things a bit for anyone who isn't paying attention, or whose attention span has been wiped out by the times we live in. I'm one of those people who takes pleasure when something demands a bit more effort than usual, mentally speaking. It feels like I'm growing as a person. I think Tre Allegri's records have always been, from this point of view, apparently light and accessible, but with plenty of false bottoms and different possible interpretations — simply and deeply communicative.

So what's your relationship with the ukulele, and more generally with "experimenting" with atypical instruments in your original set-up? Personally, I find the ukulele to be a very TARM instrument.

This latest album features quite a few unusual instruments besides the ukulele: cajón, spoons, mandolins and so on. I find them functional, I like them, they have a great sound and I think they elegantly enrich the record, giving it that sci-fi folk tone we were after.

Your records always carry a reference, more or less pronounced, to adolescence and its darker, more depressive side. Collateral damage tied to Kurt Cobain and flannel shirts aside, how do you relate to youth depression and the rise in panic attacks during adolescence? Do you have a stance on the use of psychiatric drugs, and on their use among young people?

There's a song on the record that (subtly) deals with exactly this. It's called "Bugiardo". The older I get, the more I see life's path as a rough one, full of obstacles. You have to be strong to get through every season of existence with your head held high, and during adolescence there are a lot of traps waiting. I think life should be taken lightly, with curiosity — maybe that's enough to stay at peace and enjoy everything that's out there.

You presented the album at the La Tempesta party at the Rivolta. What do you remember about that night? Were there the same technical problems as at the Roman edition in the summer, or did it go better?

It went better. Even though it's indoors, the Rivolta is almost three times the size of the Supersanto's, and the Veneto crowd responded better overall than Lazio did. It was an exceptional night, as usual all the bands were great and so was the audience. I like the Rivolta because it's a well-run venue, the kind of thing you'd expect to find only in Berlin.

Looking around at one of your shows, the average age is very low. But there's nothing new about that. An anxious mother once even asked me if I knew whether "they (meaning you) get people to do the pogo" – which is fairly telling. But if you look at the kids instead of the mothers, their t-shirts give away who they might be into. Che Guevara and Ramones, but also Lady Gaga and I Soliti Idioti. Put that way, it would almost seem like half these music-obsessed kids (and maybe life-obsessed too) haven't quite figured things out yet. How much of a pedagogical streak is there in Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti? There seems to be an underlying educational intent, understood as "education in listening", whether it's about the Smiths, the Buzzcocks, Peter Tosh or some good novelist or essayist – that's for them to figure out.

That's a really sharp analysis. What you're saying makes sense. I think there genuinely is that educational intent you're talking about, and it's part of the idea of community that belongs to us.

You've never had the media visibility (or the interest of highbrow critics) that a lot of your peers have had – even labelmates. I like to think you couldn't care less about this kind of "fake merit", like being liked or disliked by someone. Am I wrong?

Yeah, you're right, we couldn't care less. We've always done our own thing as best we could, the real spark is between us. If radio picks us up, great, welcome. But we've never aimed for success or money. We like the idea of developing an idea within what is a communication lab, not just a musical one.

Should we expect a second "version" of this album too, maybe in English?

There will be one, not in English. And it'll be dub.

Don't take this the wrong way, but talking to you it's obviously impossible not to think about La Tempesta. Back in 2000, when you founded it, would you ever have imagined Italy could become a nation, in its own way, centred around La Tempesta?

No, never. Although every now and then I dream of a sort of monopoly like Egrem, Cuba's only record label. Just joking – actually, I'm one of those people convinced that the more there are, the better.

Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day once said: "I remember a kid once came up to me and asked, 'Hey Billie! What's punk?' I kicked over a garbage can and said, 'There, that's punk!' He kicked over a garbage can and said, 'Ah!! Now I get it! So that's punk!' and I said, 'No, that's not punk, that's just fashion now!'" What do you make of the monsters spawned by the likes of Vasco Brondi? When you signed him, did you ever expect the abomination we're now so often forced to put up with?

I think the seminal force of artists like Le Luci Della Centrale Elettrica and Il Teatro Degli Orrori is extremely powerful, and I realized it the moment we were releasing their albums. When "Dell'Impero Delle Tenebre" came out, I remember laughing at the thought of how many people would start playing with that same attitude. Just as I thought about how many would try to capture Vasco Brondi's style. But it's too hard – the goal is to express yourself, not to ape someone else.

What musical points of reference make you appreciate a band, or dismiss one?

It's a very complicated thing. I'll try to simplify it by saying it's a gut feeling. If I see or hear something I like, I know it right away, I don't need to think it over. It's a mix of technical/poetic skill, image, the name of the project, sound, palpable energy in the moment, artwork. You can't assume that to make music it's enough to write the song – that's a romantic idea, but far from reality. You need a more articulate vision, and it has to be a precise one. I like ideas in themselves, more than their execution. I think that's one of the lessons of punk.

La Tempesta. A label many compare to Cramps Records, especially because of the socially engaged mood of some (many, but not all) of the names on its roster. But then you find out it's often distributed by and partnered with Universal Italy – a multinational giant that also distributes that whole string of names some of you point to as The Evil of Italian music. So is it infiltration to fight the enemy from within, is there some plain and simple marketing logic behind it, or is it a bit of quintessentially Italian hypocrisy?

Let's say that a distributor's job is profoundly different from that of a record label. In that sense, La Tempesta is deepening relationships with different, available distributors, but every decision certainly remains in our hands, or rather, in the hands of the artists.

Ok, but then which of the two Italys do you feel you represent?

I think there's a core of ordinary popularity in our people. There are no trendsetters, no ultras. We like the idea of representing ordinary people: beautiful, simple, curious.

Alright, let's move on. The TARM mask originally represented the (political?) gesture of erasing the people Davide, Enrico and Luca into a sellable object. Obviously, with all the "anti" conceptuality of someone who, say, gets a barcode tattooed on themselves. Or "We Are All Prostitutes", à la Pop Group. What meaning do the masks have now?

In a way, the masks have taken on a life of their own. Maybe an in-depth analysis will require a bit more time to come. Right now I see them as a bond between those who feel at home in the same imagery.

You definitely know him better than I do: does Giulio Ragno Favero spend his nights trying to conquer the world, or does he only have an oversized ego when it comes to music?

Giulio is a special person, it's a shame that sometimes people only get his "metal" vibe. Just to clarify, Ragno is one of his two surnames, not some cool stage name he picked to seem tough, as some people think. Giulio is an incredible worker, he never lets up for a second, he has a deep and sincere passion for music and has become excellent at what he does. He's from Padua, and maybe you'd need to spend some time there to better understand his mindset, that innate work ethic tied to a kind of ongoing protest.

Obviously I was joking, now come the hard questions: Appino's record sounds like Teatro Degli Orrori, the Bachi da Pietra record sounds like Teatro Degli Orrori, and the Teatro Degli Orrori record sounds like Teatro Degli Orrori. And behind all three (and not only them) is Giulio Favero. Now, there's nothing wrong with being a producer. But considering that Tony Wilson, who really was a producer, didn't make everyone sound like Joy Division (or Rick Rubin make everyone sound like Run DMC), has anyone at La Tempesta ever said or thought, "Giulio Ragno Favero: you've really busted our balls now!"?

I think the Bachi Da Pietra record is perfect as it is. Giulio's touch and the band's work run on the same track. On Appino's record I sense a double track; in a way, the artistic meeting there is more experimental. Or maybe it's because, having heard the demos Appino recorded at home, I'd gotten used to a different kind of "softness". Anyway, Giulio is an excellent producer and he's never made us think he'd worn out his welcome. Have you ever heard the Bob Corn record that Giulio recorded? It's incredibly soft, warmly acoustic.

Sure, but that sounds a bit like the exception that proves the rule. You'll also admit it's (relatively) absurd that Bruno Dorella, after having legitimized Bugo at Universal itself back in 2002, is now having his record co-produced by Giulio. To me it would have made much more sense (and been far more logical) if Bruno had co-produced Teatro Degli Orrori's "The New World", if anything...

The idea of a Teatro record produced by someone else intrigues me a lot. Who knows.

So, in the end, did you get to hear the new Simona Gretchen record?

No, I haven't heard it yet.

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