MILLE

I feel deeply connected to that word, for several reasons. First of all, etymologically, it means “to come back to life” — and in a particular historical moment, both collective and personal, it felt like the right word. Also as a form of self-help: returning to the source, to movement. Then there’s the reference to the Risorgimento uprisings — a historical period that has fascinated me since I studied it in elementary school. The Risorgimento is a movement from the past that you don’t disown, but keep in mind, to stay present and in motion, with your gaze turned toward the future. For me, that’s a necessary condition to face things. I’m also drawn to the aesthetic of that era: the frames, the graphics, the symbols — elements I tried to echo in the artwork for my singles. And then there’s Garibaldi… My name is MILLE, and I like connecting the dots life places in front of me. I didn’t choose Risorgimento as a title in a calculated way — it was more of a realization. Garibaldi, after all, was a pop star — maybe the first Italian one: when he arrived in London, 500,000 people came to greet him! And my dad has always called me “Garibaldi” because of the way I am. Everything just came together naturally..

Usually, the lines already come to me with music in my head. I often write without an instrument in front of me. Then, when I’ve gathered enough ideas, I sit at the guitar or piano and give them form. But they’re born already tied together — lyrics and melody at once, maybe quickly recorded on my phone. I try to pin them down, to mentally freeze them. It’s as if the songs come to visit me, and I just have to welcome them.

It’s all of it. That’s just how I am — I couldn’t be any other way. Instinct comes first, but awareness follows through the eyes of others. When several people point out the same thing, it becomes real. But everything starts from a kind of urgency, from something that naturally belongs to me. It’s not a constructed style — it’s simply who I am.

Hugely important. Music is an incredibly vast container — it’s not just made of words and melodies. There’s also the body, the visual element. When someone sings, they sing with their whole body, not just their voice. When you go to a concert, you don’t say “I’m going to hear” an artist — you say “I’m going to see” them. And I’m deeply drawn to everything that can be touched and seen. When I write, I completely immerse myself in what I’m creating. I see the scene, I touch it. Aesthetics, for me, are an essential part of musical storytelling.

X Factor was an incredible and really fun experience. We had the chance to bring to life any idea we could think of. Like: “Imagine singing on a giant scale.” And they would actually build it! As for theater — it’s not just a past for me, it’s also a present. I’m currently performing in a reimagined version of La Locandiera, and I’m loving it. I don’t think I’ve really let go of anything: I evolve, I refine, but I don’t abandon. Experiences pile up, and everything I do today is also the result of everything I’ve done before.

Exactly! I started last year with La Locandiera, though I’d done some small projects after university as well. Now we’re on tour — we’ve performed in Switzerland, Milan, Bergamo, Brescia… and I hope we’ll manage to fit in more dates. It’s not always easy, but we’re trying.

Well, if I had to be precise and look at the timeline of events, I’d say that in January I completely overhauled my life. Everything changed — professionally, emotionally, even my home. So yeah, 2025 has definitely been a full-on Risorgimento in every sense, and in a very short span of time. The songs on the album are all snapshots of this moment: I wrote them between September — when this whole process of evolution, and yes, revolution, began — and February. That’s what it was.

There are many. Often, they’re people who do more than just art. The first one, unknowingly, is my mother. As a style icon, probably — also because I resemble her a lot. We have the same long hair, the same slightly melancholic air, very Mina. She taught me how to sing… not technically, because she has nothing to do with the world of music, but in the way she used to sing alone, leaning out the window after lunch, smoking a cigarette and humming Gino Paoli. That way of hers has stayed with me — to me, it’s still the right way to deliver words in a song.
Then there’s Raffaella Carrà — for her persona, her message, her energy. And Patty Pravo. And Caterina Caselli. And then there’s Vali Myers. She was a would-be dancer, a kind of “stray” artist — let’s put it that way — who lived across the first and second half of the 20th century. Without support from her family, she started dancing in cafés in Paris, then in Germany, then in Italy. She eventually settled in Positano, where everyone called her “the good witch.” She had a striking aesthetic: red hair, intense eyes, almost tribal makeup, and she created these incredible, almost magical drawings. At first all black and white, and later in color — after she too went through a transformation. I’m fascinated by her whole world. This love affair with another tormented artist, these crooked lives we can’t help but love. She inspires me. Just like Vivienne Westwood. And of course Frida Kahlo — I even have her tattooed. With Diego Rivera, their whole story. These women — and yes, they’re all women — are always with me.

A track that hasn’t come out yet. A song I haven’t released… it’s called “Posologia”.

Generally, when I’m writing, I’d like the process to be over as quickly as possible. Because then comes the whole phase of arranging, producing, mixing… and honestly, that bores me to death. I know a song is finished when I can sing it from beginning to end and feel satisfied. But now there’s a bigger sense of responsibility, because this is also my first album. I’m lucky to have outside perspectives too, not just my own or that of my partner Davide Malvi — stage name Unberto Primo — with whom I write, produce, and so on and so forth.

“Gone with the Wind”.

Joshua Jackson from Dawson’s Creek. But come on, who wasn’t?

“Obsesión” by Aventura.

I would’ve worked in graphic design. Or become a psychotherapist. Or both. Or I’d have become a wanderer. A homeless person. A clochard…