I CANI “POST MORTEM”
Our spotlight on the visions of others. Our Spotlight is curated by Gianmaria Tammaro.
i cani, and therefore Niccolò Contessa, are the symbol of a certain kind of music. They arrived before everyone else and actively contributed to the creation of Italian indie music. They produced and supported others. They were both a workshop and a springboard. And then, almost ten years ago, they stepped aside and waited. Quiet and silent, in a creative hibernation. With Post Mortem, Contessa did what Nanni Moretti once said in Ecce Bombo: he made himself noticed by not being there, by disappearing, slipping into the cracks between radio airplay and nostalgia. And, as Jep Gambardella—played by Toni Servillo—in Paolo Sorrentino’s The Great Beauty says, he proved himself destined for sensitivity.
Contessa has a very close relationship with cinema: he breathes it in, watches it, and composes soundtracks. He stood out for his collaboration with Pietro Castellitto, first with I predatori and then with Enea, but as they say, that’s an old story—one that has as much to do with inspiration as with formation. In recent days, everything has been written about Post Mortem: the album everyone was waiting for without knowing they were waiting for it, the return of indie, the affirmation of i cani, Contessa’s maturity, and so on. And yet, paradoxically, the most interesting thing is something else.
Post Mortem presents itself as a mirror, as a topic of discussion, as a public square—as music that is not only important to listen to, but also to know, to share again, and to recommend. i cani are us; i cani are me (to quote the opening track). They are those who endure, who despair, who are convinced of what they do, and who are not afraid to arrive unannounced. In a world where even music has its seasons—the beach song, the radio song, the summer hit—there is no greater revolution than simply being oneself. So long live content, long live words, but pay attention as well to form, to details, and to small things. Romanticism may not save the world, but it will always remind us of who we were and who we could have been.
