Franco Battiato

We played together
even though our ages didn’t quite align. Franco Battiato was already a boy prodigy, expressing himself in original and avant-garde ways. Together, we awaited the arrival of packages from America, lovingly sent by Aunt Clementina. She would assemble the most intriguing toys, already brimming with early technology, and send them equally for Franco and me. Tucked carefully inside were 45 rpm records we would later play on the turntable at Franco’s house. The rock and roll of Elvis, and everything that America represented, filled us with joy.

Then came Franco’s first recordings, also on 45s, which went unnoticed, barely selling. His early appearances on RAI gave only a hint of the great era of Italian music to come. I remember the first time I heard his debut LP Fetus on 33 rpm, its layered sound and utterly unique lyrics were almost unsettling at first. Yet from that moment, he began his ascent into worlds that had once seemed unreachable, made tangible through his art.

Though I had briefly stepped away from music to study architecture, I never abandoned my musical instinct. During one of our meetings at Franco’s home, he convinced me to return to composition. I did. Following his advice, I began to compose Revelation. And from there, our great love found its path. This is only a fragment of my story with Franco, but it’s enough to remember him, in all his poetry of living.

Born on March 23, 1945, in Jonia (now Riposto), Sicily, Battiato moved to Milan in the mid-1960s, where he began his musical journey. His early work flirted with romantic pop, but by the 1970s he had plunged into avant-garde and electronic experimentation, producing albums like Fetus (1972), Pollution (1972), and Clic (1974). These works, influenced by minimalism and musique concrète, placed him alongside the likes of Stockhausen and Philip Glass in spirit, if not in fame.

In the 1980s, Battiato made a radical shift toward philosophical pop, blending catchy melodies with esoteric lyrics. His 1981 album La voce del padrone became a cultural milestone, the first Italian LP to sell over a million copies. Songs like “Centro di gravità permanente” and “Bandiera bianca” became anthems of a generation, laced with irony, metaphysics, and social critique.

He was also a collaborator and mentor, working closely with artists like Alice and Giuni Russo. With Alice, he represented Italy at the 1984 Eurovision Song Contest with “I treni di Tozeur,” a haunting piece that fused classical and pop elements. From the late 1980s onward, Battiato composed operas and symphonic works, including Genesi and Gilgamesh, and later turned to filmmaking, directing introspective films like *Perduto amor* (2003) and *Musikanten* (2005), the latter exploring Beethoven’s final years.

Under the pseudonym Süphan Barzani, he also painted, channeling his spiritual and philosophical inquiries into visual form. His lyrics often referenced Sufism, Eastern philosophy, quantum physics, and Christian mysticism, making him a rare figure who bridged the sacred and the secular with elegance. He passed away on May 18, 2021, in Milo, Sicily, leaving behind a legacy that continues to inspire seekers, artists, and thinkers alike.