Satantango

“Satantango” is a lucid and unsettling portrait of a stagnant, suspended periphery—at once romantic and decadent.

Like the one on the outskirts of Cremona—amidst the fog and prefabricated buildings—is where the duo of Valentina Ottoboni and Gianmarco Soldi was born and chose to remain. Their name is a tribute to the 1994 Hungarian film of the same title by Béla Tarr—based on a book by Nobel Prize in Literature laureate László Krasznahorkai, who also wrote the screenplay—which depicts the decline of a village lost in a gray, solitary, desolate, and muddy landscape, much like their own.

In Satantango, poignant, dreamlike atmospheres alternate with overwhelming walls of sound upon which one can drift and travel far away, a hypnotic sonic bubble that draws you in, leaves you dazed, and lulls you into its embrace.

An immersive sound, veiled in a sense of unease, drifts between shoegaze and dream pop, dark wave and alternative with occasional forays into prog. It is a sound forged by influences such as My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, Cocteau Twins, Placebo, and Linda Perhacs, blended with sophisticated, imaginative songwriting tinged with bitter irony. Delicate, whispered lyrics which instantly lodge themselves in the mind while exploring profound social themes stand out against a sonic landscape that is simultaneously melodic and gritty, dense yet ethereal, dreamy yet disillusioned.

The realism of Satantango is clear-eyed, yet also poetic and intensely cinematic. From the band’s very name to song titles like “Youth, Love, and Anger” (Gioventù Amore e Rabbia) and “Cinema Tognazzi,” references to a specific kind of cinema permeate the entire project as does the use of black and white, a vintage, melancholic nod to the past that reflects an affinity not only for Tarr, but also for auteurs like Antonioni and Godard. It is a stylistic choice that blends perfectly with the hues of the winter landscape in the Po Valley and the underground shoegaze aesthetic of 1990s bands.

And this reappears in the lyrics, which capture vivid, imaginative snapshots, moving between references to the past and reflections that are piercing in their immediate depth (e.g., “We’ve lost all the coincidences; nothing remains only what truly matters,” or “They told you it’s better to start running, Italy shows no mercy but a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down before the first hour is up”).

Satantango came into being slowly yet fluidly: eight tracks that open with 9.11 a date symbolizing the beginning of the fall and conclude with the closing credits of Cinema Tognazzi.

“Much of the material was written while walking through the fields, especially near the old hydroelectric plant—which ultimately ended up on the album cover (it’s been renovated recently, which we’re actually a bit sad about),” Satantango add. “The entire production was done at home, using a second-hand 2009 MacBook and a makeshift audio interface. We had a very clear idea of ​​the sound we wanted to achieve: whenever we had to choose between an imperfect but emotionally charged take and a technically perfect but cold one, we always went with the former. In fact, we decided to keep the original demos almost entirely as they were, re-recording only the drums.”

A deliberate “do-it-yourself” approach that fully reflects the band’s aesthetic, resulting in an album that leaves a lasting impression with lyrics as gritty as the provinces themselves.