Marlene Kuntz
Bianco Sporco

The record producer pressed him. - Come on, Cristiano, damn it, make a great old-school album like Il Vile, full of bang and guitar farts, so we can empty the wallets of all the nostalgics and kids who just have to break their collarbones and sprain their ankles at concerts, come on, let's go!
- No, - Cristiano replied - Il Vile and Catartica we did many years ago, and they are part of our past. You can't spend your whole life playing the same song. Well, maybe the Eagles did it with Hotel California, but we are not the Eagles, damn it!
- Okay, then change your style, come on, freshen up a bit, make some catchy and radio-friendly tracks, maybe something more R'n'B, then we'll make a video full of hotties and...
- No! We're not whores, we can (and must) do what we want. Perhaps you record producers forget that, but if someone does this job it's because they have something to express, and it comes out the way it is, you can't manipulate it too much, otherwise, you falsify it. And you don't express a damn thing anymore.
- I get it, you're hitting me with artistic integrity, art “something good, sacred, and serious, to be saved” like Capossela... so I'll stop if not you'll start breaking my balls and I don't want to argue. At least, though, make an album in English: for the music you produce, Italy is generally not prepared. Damn, aren’t you tired of playing at Unity or beer festivals, in Social Centers and small clubs, holy shit? If you sang in English, you could break through in Europe, and then maybe, if the English snobs like you, you could even make the big leap and conquer the American market! I can already see it: "M.K. Live at Madison Square Garden,” triple DVD box set, nice, hardcover... Eh? What do you say? In English, just one album, come on! I'm not asking for much, fundamentally, right?
- Again with the English thing? We already tried with Che Cosa Vedi, there was La Canzone Che Scrivo Per Te, have you forgotten? Even if I wasn't singing in English, there was Skin doing it with us... by the way, it was your idea that time too, how was it... ah, yes, “with the big bald lesbian you become hype too, you break the video and after a couple of months of heavy rotation on MTV, you'll sell millions of records everywhere!”. Did you see any results? The only thing I saw was that the track (yes, I concede, beautiful) was better live, without Skin's crappy voice that while warbling nonsense in English interrupted the feeling. But, as for sales, zero benefits. Have you seen the Afterhours? Even they, despite starting singing in English, now make records in Italian and the Subsonica (who have always sung in Italian) sell millions of records, while Agnelli is noticed by few, he, who everyone should be kissing his ass because he sang in English! Take my advice, forget about English, besides you know that I like to pose with my grandiloquent and skewed Italian... how can I say in English things like “Reflecting in my finitude, leaning over that lively fixity that with every breath died a bit in concentric elucidations and fleeting illuminations”? Do you want to take away even these small satisfactions? What then remains of my ART, ignoble verbose ape?

Still pissed off, Cristiano pushed aside a lock of hair that covered his gaze, as sharp as the rest of his face, and angrily stared at his interlocutor. The producer surrendered and walked away, all dejected. He realized he had been beaten this time. He reluctantly took his phone and dialed a well-known number. “Hello, New Age? Hi, it's Giovanni. Would you like to host Marlene in May for the new album's tour? It's going to be a bomb, really alternative, but more conceptual, you know... really cool, reflective, to play in clubs... a blast. Is that okay? When? The sixth? Then we have a deal. Bye”. It was the first of a long series of calls. That December afternoon in 2004 would be very long for him.

Luckily. Because thanks to the outcome of that conversation Bianco Sporco, not Dirty White, was born.
I will enjoy them on May 6th at the tiny New Age Club in Roncade (TV).
But that's okay, believe me.