Itís quite easy to explain how my usic was born; Ö for sheer fun. (you will always find the word usic written with a capital ďMĒ on this site). I believe the very world was born for fun; born with initial sounds, with beautiful usic of roaring mega-galactic sounds, the Concert of all Concerts, a world where all things were both melodic and harmonic. The Creator, in the company and with help of a minstrel who was joking around, while holding in his hands what we today call the Universe, struck, blew into and plucked in one shot all the instruments in existence, but due to the inexistence of time and space, that Concert of all Concerts, I must incorrectly say, lasted a never-ending whole note.
As with all things, though, there is nothing to
explain. All you need to do is start, strike up a musical phrase, a
sequence of sounds or noises and even a note, I dare say a note, and
out comes the whole musical composition. Consequently, the word
inspiration has nothing to do with art, but has everything to do with
the physical sense of the word; it actually refers to the inhaling of
air, that is to say, the act of taking in oxygen.
I compose my songs in the basement, a rather dark place thatís a sort of laboratory and wine-cellar put together and I am, as you could see, in a well-defined place. The console and various instruments are in front of me and, behind me, you will find many bottles of good Italian wine, jars of tomato sauce, etc. I wonít say anything else because I donít want to reveal my secret hideaway, but I can tell you that Iím only in the company of the following: musical instruments, wine and cigarettes. I donít do drugs because it isnít necessary to take them in order to make usic.
I compose mostly at night because I have to work, as most people do, during the day.
I donít know how to answer to this. Thereís never a reason, not even for the minstrel.