What remains of Timoria 25 years on. Omar Pedrini: “It would be romantic to die on stage”.

“We are living in the midst of retromania; we take refuge in memories out of fear of an unknown future and a present that frightens us. As we listen to this album again, I hope there are young people who will discover the Beat Generation, Ferlinghetti, Jodorowsky or the films of Ugo Tognazzi and Vincent Gallo”. Omar Pedrini talks to Il Foglio about the first 25 years of El Topo Grand Hotel, which has been re-released in a special limited and numbered edition by Universal Music Italia. The album, originally released in February 2001, was propelled by the success of the single “Sole Spento”, went Gold and marked a milestone for Timoria. On 11 November, the Brescia-born musician will bring the album’s narrative universe and the journey of its protagonist, Joe, back to the stage at Alcatraz in Milan.

“I’ve approached it like a theatrical concert. I’ll leave the narrative part to Gipetto Brancato, who’ll guide the audience, alongside Nicola Nocella,” explains Pedrini. It’s a return to rock that comes after 50 acoustic dates, and which once again challenges the limits imposed by his heart condition: “I won’t be doing any acrobatics or kung fu moves, to quote Liam Gallagher.” It remains to be seen whether the show will turn into a tour: “I’ll decide after my next CT scan,” he admits. After all, he says candidly, “it would be very romantic to die on stage. I think that’s the end any musician would want.”

It is natural to think of Mango, who passed away whilst performing at a concert. And it is Pedrini himself who highlights the coincidence: “It’s ironic that I recorded the video for my artistic rebirth, ‘Che ci vado a fare a Londra’, in Lagonegro, Mango’s home town. Even back then, people told me I had the same heart condition as him. For many years, I was convinced it was just bad luck or the excesses of my youth that were wreaking havoc on my heart.” That wasn’t the case. “After no fewer than seven heart operations, thanks to a surgeon, I underwent genetic testing and discovered that my condition was hereditary. I inherited it from my mother and my great-grandfather. Unfortunately, my children will face the same risk. It’s a genetic condition, just as it was for Pino Daniele and his brother. Knowing this has, in a way, absolved me in my own eyes, after years of blaming myself.”

It is no coincidence that in ‘Sole Spento’, a song inspired by a prisoner’s letter, he sang ‘until my time comes’. Today, ‘El Topo Grand Hotel’ returns accompanied by vintage photographs, memorabilia and a photo book, but Pedrini rejects the idea that this is a nostalgia-driven project: “If these projects are carried out with rigour and artistic care – such as Michele Corleone’s photo book on the Trans-Siberian Railway and the 1,000 vintage booklets found by Diego in the cellar, or the comic book created following the success of Lucca Comics – they do not merely remain a nostalgic ‘how wonderful we were’, but become sources of inspiration for today’s young people”.

It is them he hopes to reach: “I hope it reaches a new audience above all, because today’s Joes are the twenty-somethings. ‘Viaggio senza vento’ and ‘El Topo Grand Hotel’ are about Joe, a twenty-something in crisis. And as long as there are people like him, these will remain timeless coming-of-age albums, a bit like novels such as *Siddhartha*”. In the 1990s, his alter ego was searching for answers aboard a spaceship. And today? “Of that Joe, what would endure today is above all the poetics of disillusionment. You no longer tell young people like him, ‘Study and you’ll get a job and earn good money’; they reply, ‘Why should I bother? I’ll stay at home in front of the computer, go out with a girl or have a smoke’. What wasn’t in my Joe but which I do see in young people today is anger, a form of extreme rebellion. My Joe was looking for another planet; he boarded the spaceship Europa 3 alongside Mork (Robin Williams from Mork & Mindy) bound for another psychedelic dimension, because he considered humanity to have reached the final chapter of its values, culture and economy.” An idea which, he observes, isn’t all that far removed from that of Elon Musk with his space travels. “Today’s young people face an uncertain future, with no job prospects even if they graduate. Joe today would be an even more passionate and cultured young man, because culture is the first line of defence that young people need.”

To bring this story to a wider audience, Pedrini hasn’t ruled out Sanremo, where he has already performed in 1991 and 2002 with Timoria and then as a solo artist in 2004: “I’d go back there any time, because there’s no alternative in Italy. But you have to be able to avoid feeling like a fish out of water. I was disappointed that in recent editions there was no rock and not many singer-songwriters either, although I hope that following the success of Lucio Corsi and Brunori Sas, the focus will return to that genre. A few years ago, with Amadeus, it felt like the MI AMI Festival had been moved to the Ariston and I was thrilled; then there was a return to the traditional format. I’d be happy to go – I’m no snob and I’m not stuck-up; Sanremo is the most powerful promotional platform you can have in Italy and guarantees sky-high viewing figures.” But on one condition: “You have to play live. Even when Francesco Renga was in Timoria, we refused to perform to a backing track. And as long as you sing without Auto-Tune – and I agree with the controversy raised by Elio, who compared it to doping in sport – I’d gladly do it once before I disappear from the map.”

Relations with Renga, the other long-standing frontman of Timoria, are now amicable. “They’re good. We don’t go to the cinema or out for pizza together, but when we meet we greet each other warmly.” There is one moment that Pedrini cherishes in particular, at Massimo Cotto’s funeral: “His wife Chiara whispered in my ear that Francesco was there too, telling me that Massimo had expressed a wish for us to see each other. I approached Francesco and, standing before Massimo’s coffin, we exchanged the sign of peace by shaking hands and looking each other in the eye.”