The Rural Beer Tasting Festival promised an evening of beer and good music, but Mogoro experienced much more. Last night, on Via Pergolesi, Marlene Kuntz rocked the town with "Il vile," and the crowd responded in kind, rocking out to the beat. Released in 1996, two years after "Catartica," the album helped introduce noise rock to the Italian scene with a blend of anger, sensuality, and distortion, and thirty years later it hasn't lost an ounce of its power. The performance, at 9:30 PM and free admission, closed the Sardinian day of the festival, organized by the Rural District of the Giudicato of Arborea, featuring craft beers, tastings, and music. After the concert, we met Cristiano Godano, the band's voice and soul, who spoke to us about the album's history, the lyrics, the unreleased songs, and the future of music, as well as his relationship with Sardinia, an island he professes to love.
You brought "Il vile" to Mogoro, an album still capable of filling clubs and squares. When you perform it live, do you feel like you're meeting an old friend or seeing yourselves as they were?
If I had to choose, I'd say I see myself as I was. And I'm pleased to discover that that "me" is the same one that lives within me every day, just with a few less qualities, those that came with experience. As for length: "Il vile," along with "Catartica," came out during a magical period for Italian rock, and, being a superbly crafted album in its field, it has inherited that enchantment, which still lives in the hearts of many.
The album has been described as a work in which anxiety and fragility become a new language, with anger becoming lyrical. Do you identify with this interpretation?
Like all our works, "Il vile" captures who we were at the time we conceived it. Back then, we were fascinated by tough bands like Soundgarden, who made dark and aggressive, restless and at times fragile music, and we still love them today. The new language, if anything, is that of my lyrics: Italian was still searching for the right coordinates to become a credible language over music of Anglo-Saxon origin, that is, rock. Industry insiders have repeatedly said that my words contributed to this achievement, and I'm pleased to find myself agreeing. That said, no: when we were young, we felt nothing but the desire to do magnificent things, at least for ourselves. Each stage of our history has found expression in ever-changing, ever-evolving albums.
The past still holds surprises: you released "Fine della danza," a song you wrote around the time of "Catartica" and which was bootlegged for a long time. What was it like hearing it again?
"I had a certain sympathy for it. We were still raw and not yet fully grounded, we were exploring several rock subgenres, and that song was an attempt in the direction of Thin White Rope, a band we loved and I don't think many people know."
After a tour dedicated to the past, are you eager to return to the studio? What would you like to share today that you couldn't have imagined back then?
"The internet has revolutionized music, making it virtually free: anyone can find any song online with a simple click. It's becoming frustrating to commit to new songs that won't generate revenue, except in ridiculous and humiliating quantities. We'll think about a new album when we've exhausted the potential of our live shows. But Italy is small and can't be squeezed beyond its limits."
Mogoro is a town with a strong identity, far from the major concert circuits. What's it like bringing a record to a context like this? And what's your relationship with Sardinia?
We've long been accustomed to playing just about everywhere in Italy, so bringing our music to a small town isn't new to us. It's happened many times over the years. I love Sardinia, and I say this without any pretense. I especially love places like Mogoro, because the land there is wonderful, rugged and surprising, tough and welcoming. And I adore the Sardinians: their sense of humor, born of a pragmatic cynicism, and that wary suspicion that turns into an open heart when they realize they're dealing with someone worthy of respect .
