Pigeon Spins Featuring an Interview with Giuseppe Cucé

Giuseppe Cucé - 21grammi

Embarking on a journey of confession and reconstruction, "21grammi" stands out for its poetic realism, blending Italian songwriting with modern indie-pop elements. Tracks like "Ventuno" and "Una notte infinita" showcase the album's emotional nucleus, capturing moments of vulnerability and strength. Collaborating with a talented team of musicians and guided by producer Riccardo Samperi, Giuseppe Cucé's artistic vision transforms personal stories into a cinematic soundscape, resonating with universal emotions and offering listeners a profound glimpse into the human experience.

Interview with Giuseppe Cucé

º)> 21grammi explores the invisible weight we carry. Which track carries your heaviest emotion?

“Ventuno” is the soul of the entire project.

It holds the essence of every track and acts as the invisible thread that binds them together. It was born from a crucial moment that anyone can face in a relationship: choosing whether to surrender to routine and its familiar cycles, or — as in my case — stepping off the carousel, changing perspective, and widening your view.

It’s like the day after the carnival: when you remove the mask and decide to breathe new life into what you love.

(º)> Ventuno and Una notte infinita are cinematic. What moment in life inspired their core?

“Ventuno” captures that suspended instant where you must decide whether to give up or hold on.

“Una notte infinita,” instead, was born after a physical separation. It describes the phase where you must endure a new kind of solitude, learning to live a relationship from a distance — with the bed, the heart, and your emotional balance constantly on the edge.

(º)> How does Italian songwriting meet modern indie-pop in your creative process?

My writing is rooted in Italian cantautorato, but my sonic world is entirely analog: real instruments, cinematic arrangements, orchestral textures, and Mediterranean rhythms.

I use synths sparingly, only when they truly serve the atmosphere. My creative process is guided more by images and cinematic composition than by electronic influences.

(º)> Emotional burnout and digital loneliness feature in your themes. Which one hits closest to home for you?

Digital loneliness.

Today it takes only silence — a message left unanswered — to make us feel out of place. That fragility belongs to me, and I’m interested in portraying it without judgment, as a symptom of our time.

(º)> If you could give listeners one tangible takeaway from 21grammi, what would it be?

That the weight you carry is not a flaw — it’s life.

Everyone holds their own 21 grams of memories, hurt, desire, and rebirth. We’re not meant to get rid of them, but to learn how to listen to them.

(º)> What’s the most surprising lesson you learned while transforming personal stories into music?

That when you reveal your truth without filters, it stops belonging only to you.

It becomes a mirror for others — and that mirror often reflects back more than you ever dared to say out loud.

(º)> How did producer Riccardo Samperi shape the cinematic sound of the album?

Riccardo has the rare ability to turn images into sound.

I would enter the studio with atmospheres, memories, and photographs in my mind, and he translated them into orchestral arrangements, strings, horns, and deep emotional spaces. He gave each track a sonic “skin” that amplifies every breath.

(º)> Which lyric on the album would you whisper to your past self?

“Non c’è tempo da sprecare, questo è il giorno dopo il carnevale.”

I would whisper it to the version of me who kept postponing things out of fear of not being enough.

(º)> Collaborating with your team, what was the most unexpected creative spark that made it onto the record?

A small vocal imperfection that happened during a session.

Instead of hiding it, we embraced it — and it became a key emotional detail in the track. It reminded us that fragility is often the most powerful element in a song.

(º)> If 21grammi were a visual art piece, what would it look like?

It would be a blurred black-and-white photograph with a thin golden light at its center.

A body barely moving, caught in the act of deciding whether to stay or go.

A suspended image — just like our souls when they weigh twenty-one grams.

(•)> That's all, Folks! Check out Giuseppe Cucé on the Pigeon Spins Playlist