“Musica Elettronica” feels both intimate and rebellious — what moment or feeling first  sparked its creation? 

I remember perfectly the moment I started writing Musica Elettronica. I was playing the guitar,  without a clear idea, with no intention of composing anything. Then that chord progression  sparked something, and I immediately wrote the lyrics. That hadn’t happened in a long time — in recent years, I had mostly been writing on the piano or starting from sounds and  synthesizers, working on the computer. Going back to the guitar was a familiar gesture that  brought me back in time. 

Was it a personal experience, a dream, or something more abstract that ignited the song?

It’s a track that originates from a personal story, which then expands into broader images. 

You described the track as being born in a “post-industrial dream factory” — can you take  us inside that space, sonically or emotionally? Is it a real place, or more of a metaphorical  world where your music lives? 

The sounds come from visual worlds that strike me — for example, abandoned places, old  disused factories, certain cities, countryside, provincial areas. I’m drawn to places that fall  outside of mass tourism and carry something unique and authentic. So yes, my music lives in  real places — they might be intensified, but they often come from clear, real images. 

There’s a strong visual and cinematic thread in your work. What did Berlin and Bologna in  the ’80s mean to you creatively for this new chapter? Was it about aesthetics, politics, or  something more atmospheric? 

Bologna and Berlin are two diGerent cities, but they share some common ground. I didn’t exist  in the 1980s, but back then people used to say that Bologna was like a smaller Berlin. The  cultural ferment of that time, the artistic and intellectual figures of those years, have deeply  fascinated me for their attitude and intentions. 

How did working with Francesco Fantini influence the final shape of “Musica Elettronica”?  What did he bring to the process that pushed you creatively into new territory? 

The collaboration with Francesco was both important and lucky, because our visions aligned  right away. He understood exactly what I wanted to convey sonically and supported it with  great skill, he’s an exceptional musician. We also worked together on composing part of the  track, which we revisited and shaped into its current final form.

From “Manifesti e immaginari sensibili” to “Futuro Splendido”, and now this — how would  you describe the evolution of your sound and identity? Do you feel like you’re shedding skins,  or adding layers? 

Art must always be in motion and in transformation, you need to experiment and evolve. Right  now, I feel like I’ve added more layers. I’ve written a lot over the past two years, and I did it with  total freedom, doing exactly what I wanted and how I wanted. That’s what will allow me to  keep experimenting with enthusiasm. 

The song blends melancholy with momentum — a slow dance in an empty room, as you  said. How do you channel that tension in your songwriting? Is it instinctive, or do you  deliberately play with contrast and contradiction? 

It’s an instinctive process. Nothing is planned or structured in advance. There’s a musical,  textual, and emotional sensitivity that drives the creative process, without forcing anything. 

You talk about electronic music as a space of resistance and collective expression. Do you  see your music as political? If so, in what way — subtle, emotional, direct? 

My music is also political, inevitably so. Politics, in its broader sense, democratic and civic,  not dogmatic, ideological or partisan, is a form of expression that manifests every day. We are  political through our bodies, our language, and our everyday actions. Art, therefore, can be a  vehicle for messages, visions, participation, and the manifestation of anything. 

What role does solitude play in your creative process, especially when crafting something  so emotionally charged like this new track? 

Solitude is necessary for me, at various moments, but especially when I’m writing music. 

You’re currently working on your next album — can you share a glimpse into its mood or  themes? Is it an extension of “Musica Elettronica”, or are you heading into even newer  territory? 

Musica Elettronica has a color of its own, but the album will be something else entirely. It’s  going to be a dense work, both lyrically and textually, as well as sonically. Together with  Francesco Fantini, who also produced the record, we did important work on the sound,  shaping something that feels impactful to me. It will be a dark work, but with remarkable  bursts of light. The themes will be multiple.

Finally, what’s something surprising you’ve learned about yourself through this phase of  making music? Something you maybe didn’t expect before writing this track?

You end up discovering many things. Writing a track like Musica Elettronica, for example, was  a discovery in itself. A while ago, I wouldn’t have thought I could write it.

You’re heading to Australia for the first time to celebrate One Fell Swoop. What does it mean to you to bring this record to fans here finally after all these years?

It feels amazing to finally get down under after all this time, let alone to celebrate 20 years of OFS. I honestly find it difficult to ascribe adequate words to the feelings, but they’re all good.

The Spill Canvas has been making music for over two decades now. What keeps you inspired to keep writing and performing?

I’ve always felt that there’s some mystical force, much bigger than all of us, that I can tap into and be a vessel for all the music the band has made. And as much as this machine wouldn’t churn without the lifeblood of our incredible fans, I equally serve the invisible muse.

Your lyrics are known for exploring love, heartbreak, and yearning in such an honest way. How do you keep that emotional truth alive in your writing?

Again, I’d reference the previous answer about the muse. I truly feel I only have one hand on the wheel when penning lyrics, the actual navigation throughout the writing process is led by something else entirely. In essence, I’m really just along for the ride.

This tour pairs you with The Juliana Theory, another much-loved emo band. What’s it like sharing the stage with artists who helped shape the scene?

Having toured with TJT before, it’s such a wonderful reunion-as those gents are truly wonderful people, and an even better band. I grew up listening to Emotion is Dead, so to say it’s a trip is a vast understatement

You’ve seen fans grow up with your music. How does it feel knowing your songs have been the soundtrack to so many people’s lives?

Again, it’s a mind-bending sensation to bear the weight of so many amazing fans experiencing our music throughout 20+ years of their lives. There’s a lot of imposter syndrome that I find can occur-lots of “I’m not worthy” stuff going on for sure. But at the end of the day, I’m just left feeling beyond grateful for their connection.

Australian crowds are known for their energy. What are you expecting from the fans who are finally seeing you for the first time? 

I wouldn’t say we’re expecting anything, but rather hoping that we can achieve as we always set out to do every night-to connect via that magical frequency with our fans over the universal language of music.

After releasing Conduit in 2021, how has your relationship with performing and recording evolved?

I’d like to think that since Conduit we’ve really come into a new chapter of the band regarding recording new material. We released 2 new singles last year (“Ruiner” & “Wolves”) that we’re beyond proud of. But we truly can’t wait to get into the studio once again for this new album next year.

For fans who discovered you back in the Sunsets and Car Crashes days, what can they expect from these anniversary shows?

So we’ll be playing OFS in its entirety, front to back. But there will also definitely be a few “standards” to close out the show at the end. That said, fans of SS&CC should certainly stick around til the end.

Your music has always balanced catchy indie-rock hooks with deeply personal storytelling. How important is that connection with listeners when you’re on stage?

The connection is so vital, if not the absolute most important part for the live performance. Not only does it lay the foundation to perform at our best, there is just no better feeling than fully resonating with the crowd in the moment.

Finally, what would you say to Australian fans thinking about grabbing a ticket for these shows?

I’d say please come out and vibe with us! It’s sure to be an amazing, once in a lifetime experience!

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