Franco Battiato sat beside his manager in the hotel café dressed impeccably in a white shirt and a tailored grey suit. His face was kind and austere, like that of a Buddhist monk, but with the precision of a matador. He motions me to a quiet alcove where we begin to talk.
Battiato is both a cult figure and national treasure in his native Italy. He is a mystic, a 
poet, a singer/songwriter, a composer, and a film director. He’s also a painter under the pseudonym Suphan Barzani. One is tempted to call him the “Bob Dylan” of Italy, but that doesn’t quite hit the mark. Like Dylan, Battiato was born a provincial - in Battiato’s case, in Sicily. Like Dylan, he was an icon in the early ’60s and is known for his lyrics and his charismatic personality. Battiato has also evolved through different musical phases of his career – forty-plus albums worth. But there the similarities end. To get a first time listener into the ballpark, I would compare Battiato to a musician like Brian Eno, with the bite of Leonard Cohen and the mystery of Kate Bush in the mix: Battiato is both lyrical and experimental and willing to push the envelope, regardless of the outcomes. And his music doesn’t appear to age.
The covers of Battiato records from the ’60s resemble the brooding rebel photographs of Phil Ochs and David Blue on Electra records. From simple pop, Battiato moved into experimental rock in the early ’70s. Think Tangerine Dream, Pink Floyd or even Frank Zappa. Notable albums from this phase include Fetus (1971) and Pollution (1972). Pollution wields poetry, street sound, electronic effects, and rock into a quirky orchestral whole.
The albums Sulle corde di Aries (1973), Clic (1974), and Mademoiselle le Gladiator (1975) show a growing depth to Battiato’s progressive rock music. Clic veers from musique concrete and minimalism to lush symphonic arrangements, foreshadowing Battiato’s ventures into opera. The experimental instrumental album Egypt Before the Sands won the prestigious Stockhausen award for contemporary music in 1978.
Beginning in 1981, Battiato signed with EMI records and moved to a more pop-oriented style. His album La Voce del Padrone (“The Master’s Voice”) was an instant classic. It was the first Italian album to sell over a million copies and is one of the most joyous and infectious CDs I have heard. One gets the impression of Battiato on a beach in Italy, describing in poetic language human behavior as it passes by - a pop version of Fellini’s film Amarcord, if you will.
Hit songs like “L’era del cinghiale bianco”, “Centro di gravita permanente” (Constant Point of Gravity”), and “Voglio vederti danzare” (“I Want to See You Dancing”) followed. These songs revealed what might be Battiato’s greatest strength – the uncanny ability to create a melodic hook out of thin air. His melodies stick in your head. Battiato was now firmly established as a rock star.
The late Eighties and early Nineties were a highly productive period for him. He wrote his first opera Genesi (1987), and followed with the operas Gilgamesh (1992) and The Knight of the Intellect (1994). His pop albums of this period included Fisiognomica (“Physiognomic”), Giubbe rosse (“Red Jackets”), Come un cammello in una grondaia (“Like a Camel in a Gutter”), and Café de la Paix.
Mysticism, that of Sufism and Gurdjieff in particular, is part and parcel with Battiato’s painting and music. To this end, he established a small publishing house, L’Ottava, in 1985 to publish esoteric books. And after a trip to Turkey, he began to incorporate Arabic into some of his lyrics.
In 1994, Battiato deepened his spiritual journey with a series of collaborations with nihilistic-cynical philosopher, Manlio Sgalambro, who wrote most of the lyrics on the following records. The album L’imboscata (1996) with the hit song, “La cura” (“The Care”), is considered to be the best work of this period. Gommalacca (1998) put an emphasis on hard rock while Dieci stratagemmi (2004) – melodic and hard driving with sweeping orchestral flourishes - continued to push the experimental envelope.
In 2003 Battiato directed his first feature film, Perduto amor (“Lost Love”), for which he composed the soundtrack. He followed this film with Musikanten, a film about Beethoven’s last four years. In this film, cult Chilean director Alejandro Jodorowsky played Beethoven.
With the three Fleurs albums - Fleurs (1999), Fleurs 3 (2002), and Fleurs 2 (2008) - Battiatio went in an entirely different direction with covers of romantic songs (plus a few of his own). Two of the songs on the triple platinum album Fleurs 2 -- “Tutto l’universo obbedisce all ‘amore” and “It’s Five O’Clock” are both so exquisite as to make a person weep.
In concert, Battiato sits in the center of the stage as if in his living room. He is intimate, yet as precise and demanding as an orchestra conductor. He’s backed by a string quartet, a piano, a synthesizer, and an electric guitar. The effect is a lush wall of sound that pushes Battiato’s almost delicate voice forward. No instrument stands out from another. Even the frenetic electric guitar is simply another texture to blend into the whole. Battiato is so experienced and confident, that even when sitting like a desert mystic, he commands total attention.
The songs start quietly, with a Haiku set to music, and progress to songs of mysticism and love. The concerts end with melodic pop songs and full-on rockers with clumps of teenage girls dancing in the aisles. Battiato’s final song is of contemplation and love, seemingly addressed to every person in the audience.