Madame: il grillo cantante di Francesca

Image credit: sonolamadame profile, Instagram

Discovering Madame and her musical existence three years ago was pure serendipity. I don’t know exactly what struck me about her, whether it was her immense potential as a young artist or the way she reflected my younger self. Her curly hair, her influences ranging from Dante to DeAndré, her adolescent awkwardness contrasting with her premature wisdom.

Francesca Calearo was only 17, with Sciccherie and Anna as her only two singles and yet, after watching that SOPRA LE RIGHE interview, she irreversebly captured my attention. I remember doubting her origins from Vicenza when approaching her first singles and, just like Sofia (the interviewer), I thought she was from Napoli. For instance, Sciccherie seemed a distinct echo of more southern dialects, a track born in 8 minutes that she describes as “un vomito di parole.” Her southern resonance ties with the neomelodico, which is undeniably, if not an influence, one of Madame’s strongest interests. This traditional sound, originating from southern regions (namely Naples) adopts such a different dialect from her own and yet she feels almost compelled to cultivate a passion for it (and for the other regional Italian idioms as well).

Italian dialects can be thought of as raw ramifications, language games of a more holistic medium, where something about their unrefined nature allows for complexity. Madame’s lyrics deeply share this kind of multi-layering, conveying so much more by fusing elements. This allows her to escape a fixed identity, transcending linear expectations.   

”Di chi non ha contorno ma infiniti colori” (of those who have no outline but infinite colours)

The concept of univocal simply does not apply to Madame and her spirito di squadra (reliably present from her past connection to volleyball) is manifested in various feats. My favourite collaborations range from Babaganoush (with Pinguini Tattici Nucleari) to TU MI HAI CAPITO (where she manages to branch out internationally, adapting it into French with Hatik). Madame can appear incoherent, lacking a stable theme, but that’s what guarantees a satisfying manifestation of all her personalities. Ultimately, her music manages to access multiple meaning portals, for the ultimate reward of gaining the widest possible reception.

The conflictual relationship with her looks

Image credit: sonolamadame profile, Instagram

Art is not just an internal process, especially when there’s an audience interfering. And, arguably, the eyes of the artist are perhaps the very first inspectors. Madame is no exception and the conflicted relationship with her looks becomes obvious in 17. She dissects herself to the extent of an abstract portrait, lacking “qualche punto luce in piu”. The choice of depicting herself through broken, Picassoesque segments, stems from her desire to detach her personal aesthetic from her musical legacy. She can’t help but view her own image as a hinderance to an intact reception of her musical message. This is obviously a more accurate analysis of her earlier works, but her consistent introspection never ceases, regardless of how distant the adolescent insecurities she describes may feel.

Fisso l'anticamera del cranio e mi incazzo
E dico: "Perché solo io? Perché solo io?"

Engaging in this self-analysis through a deliberately broken mirror allows Madame to exceed in self-awareness, yielding always a new image. “Conosciti prima di conoscere il mondo”.

Two years later, after the first Sopra le righe, Madame returns under an entirely different context of pandemic alienation. There is a marked contrast concerning her character: the choice of wearing white instead of black is a clear hint of her need to repaint herself. She subscribes her identity to a tabula rasa. She lets her being speak for itself, her art, la sua Voce. The colour white encompasses all the others, the perfect example for fusion, but also a reminder of Madame’s past restlessness.

In Sciccherie she sings “bella mia che mi manca la voce”, confessing how painful it was for her to experience life so intensely, to feel with such a heavy heart. “Il quiete vivere non è per tutti”. Madame admits in her earlier works “che non basta la voce”: the only way out of her internal, imprisoning labyrinth is to stop thinking about who she should be. That’s an inevitably doomed game that makes us lose “il vero io”. The incessant interference she receives from others, fame and  expectations was bound to feel suffocating eventually, so she finally began to put it aside. Because her voice is the only thing that makes her feel this alive, a valuable token that Madame offers to celebrate her musical Renaissance. This instrument, which used to be broken and a reminder of her adolescent development, has now turned into a soul pouring medium. Fada describes her “pulita ma coperta da una patina di ruggine”: no matter how much Madame outpurs herself, she’ll always carry on collecting nuove cicatrici.

Madame announced her first tour to take place during the winter of 2021. Postponing it meant I wouldn’t have been able to share it with friends who I had introduced her music to. Friends who loved her songs just like I did. Despite this, the solo experience was priceless. Madame was fashionably late, opening up her penultimate tour date with Istinto (a personal favourite of mine). She insisted on spreading a sense of safety beyond her stage, making us feel so welcomed, a part of the vibrant atmosphere she was creating. Many of her performances didn’t fail to showcase the multilayers I previously mentioned:

• 17 was contextualised as a piece she wrote out of anger for artists in her same industry prioritising looks over the depth of their art. A song that reminds how much shame she felt for herself and how much that has now changed. A song that now has the sole purpose of encouraging “FAI QUEL CAZZO CHE TI PARE LADY”.

• Sciccherie almost felt like an acoustic performance: originally fast-paced, Madame slowed its rhythm as if she was inviting us to sing it with her and not miss anything. It was overwhelmingly nostalgic.

• Voce was sung wearing white, the token she offered as the closing piece of a wonderfully loud and energetic Thursday evening in Rome.

Of course, other incredible pieces featured that night: incredibly energetic ones, like CLITO and L’ECCEZIONE, as well as intensely moving ones, including CICATRICI, TUTTI MUOIONO and IL MIO AMICO. 

Image credit: sonolamadame profile, Instagram (PH: Luisa Carcavale)

I never felt more comfortable in a crowd of complete strangers. Everyone felt so free to express themselves, especially when Madame interacted with us through il confessionale. People would use it almost as a therapeutic tool, unloading frustrations, struggles or personal declarations. A square of cement, inhabited by standing people, became just the kind of cathartic place that a mountain hill normally represents, where shouting feels permissible. Where there is no judgement (well, at least not an explicit one) but pure reception, understanding and compassion. And, if you were lucky, some spontaneous life advice by Madame herself!

What I saw was a kind of open-mindedness I had never experienced before in Italy, having only lived in a small town and not having experienced that kind of mundane realism since 2016. Italy had become a place to visit and not a place to stay. I can only say that it made me proud.

After that beautifully chaotic night, something strange happened. I would try and listen to the songs on Spotify and I’d notice that they didn’t sound the same. They stopped reminding me of the version of myself discovering them for the first time. They stopped giving me goosebumps because now I had live recordings that would do the trick, owning a much greater emotional charge. It’s like her voice tied some of my dearest memories to a closer present and I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.