So, last time I met this guy it was 2008 or 2009 circa, can't actually recall. In those hey-days I played guitar in Sea Dweller and Davide, contemporarely, had his music adventure in a two piece band called Japanese Gum, where he and one more nice guy, Paolo Tortora, touched and caressed some psychedelic/shoegaze peaks indeed, loaded with a vibe crescendo of electronica. We had some gigs together, been able to share some time having a laugh and small talking, and you when you meet someone special, and you regret you know you won't be able to deep that friendship. That's it. Well, life moves forward relentlessly for everyone, Davide made a U-turn to acoustic Music, and - wow how splendid.. - First two 2020 EPs, where he still used to sing, are something located closed to Spacemen 3 folk hooks, although Davide Cedolin has a different special touch for a feel of bare honesty which easily reflects - as you will read - in his perspective for Nature, and how he musically embraces it.. then he both feet dove into instrumental folk Music, poignant and spiritual, transcendental and sheerly mystic. Frankly, one of best kept secret artists from Italy, if you still want my two cents. He just released a collection of unreleased tracks: about time, we had a chat.
komakino: Hello Davide, so, what is Music? Follow me on this, let's do this interview a bit different, - what is your call on Music? Once I read only humans, among all of the beasts, make and drink wine, and it's about the same with Music, exception done for singing. I mean, you can give a bass guitar to a gorilla (Flea and Koko) or impose percussions to elephants (The Elephant Orchestra of Thailand) - and maybe they may be driven to explore it, but, I'm pretty sure the lyrical side of playing an instrument is merely human. Although, not for all human beings. And, still, some animals love listening to the Music, and it's also proven it helps us communicate with other species. So, what is Music?
Davide Cedolin: Hello there, thank you for the invitation. To answer your question, I'd like to quote Raymond Murray Schafer and his thoughts on music: “Today all sounds belong to a continuous field of possibilities lying within the comprehensive dominion of music. Behold the new orchestra: the sonic universe! And the musicians: anyone and anything that sounds!” (from The Soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World - k's note). This perspective is radical and cohesive, and it resonates deeply with my own view on music. Trying to condense the essence of music into practical terms, I would describe it as a language—though admittedly, this definition lacks depth. Over the years, my perception of music has evolved significantly, yet what continues to amaze me is its extraordinary power to connect. Music fosters connections of all kinds, even negative ones, and everyone has specific memories tied to particular pieces of music. This leads me to reflect on music's role in memory. For instance, after my grandmother passed away, I stopped listening to Ágætis Byrjun by Sigur Rós for years because she loved them, and hearing their music was too painful. Similarly, I avoided The Cure for nearly fifteen years due to a difficult relationship with someone who was a devoted fan. On the other hand, certain sounds evoke warmth—like the banjo that takes me back to Warren Street in Hudson, NY in 2011, where there was an incredible busker performing. Hearing an organ reminds me of the only acoustic hallucination I've ever experienced. Now, when I hear night owls, raindrops on the roof, or crickets in summer, I feel enveloped by a perfect soundtrack. Ultimately, I cannot offer a single definitive answer about what music means to me—it encompasses many things. On an individual level, it often serves as an expression of something I cannot articulate in other ways—a language, as I previously suggested.
k: Your take for making your own Music plays on a very pastoral cut of it. Yours is not a three piece rock band, and although you had some extended collaborations (Ligurian Pastoral), you keep it pensive and always meant to be connecting with Nature, no doubt about that. I don't know if you are any aware of a website called Cabin porn, it stocks since more than a decades all of the best tiny houses hidden in the woods around the world where losing yourself into yourself. Your Music pretty fits. Where do you currently live?
Davide Cedolin: My “acoustic era” began around 2016 during a period of significant life changes. At that time, I started fingerpicking because I wanted an instrument that didn't require cables, power supplies, pedals, or electricity—something simple that I could play anywhere without complications. It felt more like a tool than an instrument hahah.. those were heavy years, I was trying to restart my life. Moving into a house with outdoor space allowed me to grow vegetables and be surrounded by animals. Acoustic guitar (and banjo) became my companions during breaks from gardening. This shift revealed what was missing in my life: living outside urban environments. A few years later—just before COVID-19—I left my position at a hostel and moved to Fagaglia, a small bunch of houses above Genova Pra'. It's essentially the last human outpost before the woods and Apennines but still only fifteen minutes from the train station. For the first time in my life, I felt at home here. This move influenced every aspect of my life—including my music. My first EP under my name was released in 2020 (In The Valley With The Mules) as a way to celebrate this new beginning. Today, I still live here with my son and partner.
k: You haven't added vocals to your tracks since ages (since that above mentioned EP and Season Creep - same year -, actually).. lost your voice? No need to speak?
Davide Cedolin: Fun question to answer, the “no need to speak” explanation is closest to the truth. At some point, I naturally separated writing from composing music. Focusing solely on instruments helped me improve as a player while freeing me from anxieties like throat aches before performances. Writing without constraints on length or rhythm also allowed me to grow as a writer overall. Singing has never been my forte—it served its purpose for years but I'm more interested in writing than singing.
k: So, if I am not too intrusive, what do you do for a living?
Davide Cedolin: My medium-long-term goal is living off-grid with my family—a vision that drives all my efforts and intentions today. Currently, I'm preparing for a new job as a cook at a beautiful agriturismo while continuing to grow vegetables and renovate an old house that will eventually become our home. Additionally, I work freelance in audio-video post-production and write liner notes for artists.
k: Now let's take a more banal turn: is A.I. going to kill Music? Like it's going for illustrated art (photography, cinema), all in all. A.I. music and streaming audio are changing the game.
Davide Cedolin: I already feel disconnected from certain contemporary high-tech trends and attitudes—I'm admittedly old fashioned ass when it comes to technology. AI is just another example of how potential good tools can be misused. It reminds me of Maestro Miyazaki's poignant words about AI being “against life.” I guess nobody needs a computer or the automatic shift to drive a car, you really need good mechanical stuff but if you learned to drive you can definitely park with no computer devices and beeps. And it's definitely ok to make your imperfect art without using that shit. It should be governed somehow, but it's probably an oxymoron. Since humans don't have responsibility for these types of things it should be better to step back, or at least, sideways.
k: So, you just published on BC "2022/2024: Unreleased Recordings pt. I".. more pt's to be expected?
Davide Cedolin: Yeah I guess so. I don't know when, but I have tons of unreleased music waiting to be explored and mixed.
k: did it happen you performed your music live over the last year? Is it still part of the game for you? Or these records of yours are 'just' some distant calls?
Davide Cedolin: In the past twelve months, if I'm not mistaken, I've played live three times: once as a solo performer, once in a trio with Tommaso Rolando and Simone Mattiolo under the name Common Fate, and once as a guest. So, to answer your question - I'd say yes, somewhat. That said, there are a few aspects that have definitely changed how I approach live shows. First, after years of emotional struggle, I've come to realize that I'm not a natural performer. I'm very sensitive to external factors, which makes the whole entertainment aspect feel awkward and out of place for me, even though I love playing for people. Society constantly pushes us to perform - Judith Butler's studies even show how we perform our gender. For me, performing needs to happen only in certain contexts; if those aren't possible, it's better to let it go. Live shows are definitely not the most important part of my work. Secondly, touring and traveling have become a kind of privilege in today's world. Realizing this a few years ago shifted my perspective on touring entirely. The environment already suffers from excessive human impact, so even though my personal contribution may be small, I try to minimize my ecological footprint by avoiding travel by car, train, or plane unless absolutely necessary. Then came COVID-19, which exposed many contradictions of capitalist society. I know many artists who, during that period, reconsidered their lifestyles—choosing more intimate, sober ways of living, often moving to the countryside and seeking greater harmony with the times. This doesn't mean I won't play live anymore, but my performances will certainly be limited to specific, meaningful situations.
k: what about your short movie Eredità Foreste?
Davide Cedolin: Eredità Foreste is a short film I have been working on over the past two years. It is an audiovisual piece where footage, field recordings, and music blend together to create its own unique dimension. I began this project after the summer of 2022, when a severe drought affected Italy, especially my region. This event prompted me to seriously reflect on our relationship with nature and the impact we have on it. It became the starting point for everything.
From there, I also began to reflect on my personal history and the journeys of my relatives who left Carnia and Friuli for economic reasons. Yet, they never truly ‘left': they continue to speak Furlan and remain invisibly connected to those mountains. In a way, so am I. When I think of wildlife and untamed nature, my mind and heart go to Val d'Arzino.
The title is deliberately ambiguous: I play with the double meaning of ‘foreste,' which in Italian means both ‘forests' and ‘foreigners.' This documentary explores what we leave behind—our legacy. I will be presenting it at the Mulhouse Biennial next June, including a special double live set.
komakino: Hello Davide, so, what is Music? Follow me on this, let's do this interview a bit different, - what is your call on Music? Once I read only humans, among all of the beasts, make and drink wine, and it's about the same with Music, exception done for singing. I mean, you can give a bass guitar to a gorilla (Flea and Koko) or impose percussions to elephants (The Elephant Orchestra of Thailand) - and maybe they may be driven to explore it, but, I'm pretty sure the lyrical side of playing an instrument is merely human. Although, not for all human beings. And, still, some animals love listening to the Music, and it's also proven it helps us communicate with other species. So, what is Music?
Davide Cedolin: Hello there, thank you for the invitation. To answer your question, I'd like to quote Raymond Murray Schafer and his thoughts on music: “Today all sounds belong to a continuous field of possibilities lying within the comprehensive dominion of music. Behold the new orchestra: the sonic universe! And the musicians: anyone and anything that sounds!” (from The Soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World - k's note). This perspective is radical and cohesive, and it resonates deeply with my own view on music. Trying to condense the essence of music into practical terms, I would describe it as a language—though admittedly, this definition lacks depth. Over the years, my perception of music has evolved significantly, yet what continues to amaze me is its extraordinary power to connect. Music fosters connections of all kinds, even negative ones, and everyone has specific memories tied to particular pieces of music. This leads me to reflect on music's role in memory. For instance, after my grandmother passed away, I stopped listening to Ágætis Byrjun by Sigur Rós for years because she loved them, and hearing their music was too painful. Similarly, I avoided The Cure for nearly fifteen years due to a difficult relationship with someone who was a devoted fan. On the other hand, certain sounds evoke warmth—like the banjo that takes me back to Warren Street in Hudson, NY in 2011, where there was an incredible busker performing. Hearing an organ reminds me of the only acoustic hallucination I've ever experienced. Now, when I hear night owls, raindrops on the roof, or crickets in summer, I feel enveloped by a perfect soundtrack. Ultimately, I cannot offer a single definitive answer about what music means to me—it encompasses many things. On an individual level, it often serves as an expression of something I cannot articulate in other ways—a language, as I previously suggested.
k: Your take for making your own Music plays on a very pastoral cut of it. Yours is not a three piece rock band, and although you had some extended collaborations (Ligurian Pastoral), you keep it pensive and always meant to be connecting with Nature, no doubt about that. I don't know if you are any aware of a website called Cabin porn, it stocks since more than a decades all of the best tiny houses hidden in the woods around the world where losing yourself into yourself. Your Music pretty fits. Where do you currently live?
Davide Cedolin: My “acoustic era” began around 2016 during a period of significant life changes. At that time, I started fingerpicking because I wanted an instrument that didn't require cables, power supplies, pedals, or electricity—something simple that I could play anywhere without complications. It felt more like a tool than an instrument hahah.. those were heavy years, I was trying to restart my life. Moving into a house with outdoor space allowed me to grow vegetables and be surrounded by animals. Acoustic guitar (and banjo) became my companions during breaks from gardening. This shift revealed what was missing in my life: living outside urban environments. A few years later—just before COVID-19—I left my position at a hostel and moved to Fagaglia, a small bunch of houses above Genova Pra'. It's essentially the last human outpost before the woods and Apennines but still only fifteen minutes from the train station. For the first time in my life, I felt at home here. This move influenced every aspect of my life—including my music. My first EP under my name was released in 2020 (In The Valley With The Mules) as a way to celebrate this new beginning. Today, I still live here with my son and partner.
k: You haven't added vocals to your tracks since ages (since that above mentioned EP and Season Creep - same year -, actually).. lost your voice? No need to speak?
Davide Cedolin: Fun question to answer, the “no need to speak” explanation is closest to the truth. At some point, I naturally separated writing from composing music. Focusing solely on instruments helped me improve as a player while freeing me from anxieties like throat aches before performances. Writing without constraints on length or rhythm also allowed me to grow as a writer overall. Singing has never been my forte—it served its purpose for years but I'm more interested in writing than singing.
k: So, if I am not too intrusive, what do you do for a living?
Davide Cedolin: My medium-long-term goal is living off-grid with my family—a vision that drives all my efforts and intentions today. Currently, I'm preparing for a new job as a cook at a beautiful agriturismo while continuing to grow vegetables and renovate an old house that will eventually become our home. Additionally, I work freelance in audio-video post-production and write liner notes for artists.
k: Now let's take a more banal turn: is A.I. going to kill Music? Like it's going for illustrated art (photography, cinema), all in all. A.I. music and streaming audio are changing the game.
Davide Cedolin: I already feel disconnected from certain contemporary high-tech trends and attitudes—I'm admittedly old fashioned ass when it comes to technology. AI is just another example of how potential good tools can be misused. It reminds me of Maestro Miyazaki's poignant words about AI being “against life.” I guess nobody needs a computer or the automatic shift to drive a car, you really need good mechanical stuff but if you learned to drive you can definitely park with no computer devices and beeps. And it's definitely ok to make your imperfect art without using that shit. It should be governed somehow, but it's probably an oxymoron. Since humans don't have responsibility for these types of things it should be better to step back, or at least, sideways.
k: So, you just published on BC "2022/2024: Unreleased Recordings pt. I".. more pt's to be expected?
Davide Cedolin: Yeah I guess so. I don't know when, but I have tons of unreleased music waiting to be explored and mixed.
k: did it happen you performed your music live over the last year? Is it still part of the game for you? Or these records of yours are 'just' some distant calls?
Davide Cedolin: In the past twelve months, if I'm not mistaken, I've played live three times: once as a solo performer, once in a trio with Tommaso Rolando and Simone Mattiolo under the name Common Fate, and once as a guest. So, to answer your question - I'd say yes, somewhat. That said, there are a few aspects that have definitely changed how I approach live shows. First, after years of emotional struggle, I've come to realize that I'm not a natural performer. I'm very sensitive to external factors, which makes the whole entertainment aspect feel awkward and out of place for me, even though I love playing for people. Society constantly pushes us to perform - Judith Butler's studies even show how we perform our gender. For me, performing needs to happen only in certain contexts; if those aren't possible, it's better to let it go. Live shows are definitely not the most important part of my work. Secondly, touring and traveling have become a kind of privilege in today's world. Realizing this a few years ago shifted my perspective on touring entirely. The environment already suffers from excessive human impact, so even though my personal contribution may be small, I try to minimize my ecological footprint by avoiding travel by car, train, or plane unless absolutely necessary. Then came COVID-19, which exposed many contradictions of capitalist society. I know many artists who, during that period, reconsidered their lifestyles—choosing more intimate, sober ways of living, often moving to the countryside and seeking greater harmony with the times. This doesn't mean I won't play live anymore, but my performances will certainly be limited to specific, meaningful situations.
k: what about your short movie Eredità Foreste?
Davide Cedolin: Eredità Foreste is a short film I have been working on over the past two years. It is an audiovisual piece where footage, field recordings, and music blend together to create its own unique dimension. I began this project after the summer of 2022, when a severe drought affected Italy, especially my region. This event prompted me to seriously reflect on our relationship with nature and the impact we have on it. It became the starting point for everything.
From there, I also began to reflect on my personal history and the journeys of my relatives who left Carnia and Friuli for economic reasons. Yet, they never truly ‘left': they continue to speak Furlan and remain invisibly connected to those mountains. In a way, so am I. When I think of wildlife and untamed nature, my mind and heart go to Val d'Arzino.
The title is deliberately ambiguous: I play with the double meaning of ‘foreste,' which in Italian means both ‘forests' and ‘foreigners.' This documentary explores what we leave behind—our legacy. I will be presenting it at the Mulhouse Biennial next June, including a special double live set.
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