Let’s move on to the early days of Ghetto 84. You said the first gig was in 86?
Yes – we opened for Nabat in Reggio Emilia. We started the same song six times and never finished. We were so excited about going on stage, we did speed and beer to ‘calm our nerves’, but of course it had the opposite effect. Then I threw my mic stand at the drummer because I thought he was fucking everything up, and that was that.
What kind of places were you playing in 86, 87 – squats and community centres or normal commercial venues?
We played many squats, often supporting other bands. One place that we played frequently was Livello 57 [in Via dello Scalo 21], which was a famous squat in Bologna – first a punk/hardcore one, later a raver one. We played at the Casalone loads. And in Genova we played our first gig at the Zapata centro sociale [left-wing community centre] when it opened – I think that was 1988. Sometimes we were able to play at disco clubs before the actual disco night started.
So, skinheads were welcome in the left-wing community centres? Wasn’t there a time when they weren’t?
Mostly we had no problems with that kind of environment, maybe also because our following was mixed. It wasn’t just skins – it was skins, mods, punks, hooligans, metal kids, everyone.
Your tape La Rumba! came out in 1987, right?
That’s correct. It was released by C.A.S. Records, which was run by the original Nabat crew. They had put out all the early Nabat records and stuff like the Skins e punks = TNT 7-inch (1983), which was the first Italian Oi compilation. So, they offered to put out our tape if we coughed up cash for the studio time. We recorded it at the same place where Nabat had cut Un altro giorno di gloria: a studio tucked away in the backyard of a vinery somewhere near Bologna, closer to Modena actually. But we were skint, so we borrowed some funds from the Bologna ultras, and C.A.S. made 1500 copies of the tape. We were so happy, gave away 700 copies for free to Bologna fans, then we sold the rest to recoup the money.
What was the ‘concept’ behind Ghetto 84? You sounded more rock ‘n’ roll than most skinhead/Oi bands at the time.
We were different, mainly because we weren’t a punk band. I’m not saying this to diss punk, we just weren’t. Our style leaned more towards rock ‘n’ roll than hardcore. Our drummer was South American, and our musical taste was a mix of rock ‘n’ roll, plenty of reggae, and more. Our guitarists were Riccardo Serrapica aka Chico, who nowadays plays in Zona Popolare, and Tullo Petazzi. They wrote all those great ‘Made in Bologna’ rock ‘n’ roll riffs in our early years, and their favourite bands were Radio Birdman, Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers, Rose Tattoo. Also Eddie and the Hot Rods, Dr Feelgood, that classic pub rock sound.
That’s not a bad selection of bands.
Yeah, we were more about the rockin’ side of things – we never listened to The Exploited or any of that stuff. Like I said, we were a different breed.
There’s a song on the tape called ‘Bologna la rossa’. First I thought it was an anthem to our ‘red Bologna’, but much to my disappointment it turned out to be an anti-communist tune.
I’m gonna disappoint you even more. Do you know Legittima Offesa, the nazi band from Bologna? They made a cover of that song… I know two of them, so I wrote to them saying: “Guys, of all the bands you could cover, why the fuck are you covering us?” And they replied: “Because you were the first in Bologna to sing against the Communist Party, Rude”. I’m very pissed off about that. Never liked them – bunch of wankers.
How come you know them anyway?
Because their guitarist was part of the Ghetto 84 fan base and I knew him from football, but he wasn’t a nazi at the time – just a shy 18-year old kid with health problems. And later, when they started their own band, they were listening to Ghetto 84, Nabat and all that.
Can you fill us in on the background of that song?
The context was that we were young and wild and pissed off about the fact that we had few opportunities to play because of our reputation. Our rehearsal space was at the venue of the PCI [Communist Party] youth league, and our bassist was psychologically disturbed. When his amplifier wasn’t working, he’d toss it out the window, thinking that’d sort it out. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit well with the folks there, so then they started talking badly and spreading rumours about us, which led to us being banned from quite a few venues in Bologna. Many of these places were linked to the PCI youth league. We were also barred from the Festa de l’Unità festival – ever come across that one?
Yeah, it’s run by the Democratic Party today.
Exactly, but back in the day it used to be the PCI’s annual festival, where they let all the young local bands play. But not us. So we wrote ‘Bologna la rossa’, which wasn’t exactly anti-communist, but specifically about the PCI youth league. They were the pride of ‘red Bologna’, but we felt they were treating us like shit. The lyrics went something like, “I see a rich guy in a big black car with a PCI membership card, they’re no different than the other parties, they only want to keep us down”. And the chorus went, “This is Red Bologna, my shitty town”.
By that point the PCI was essentially run by liberals (‘Eurocommunists’), so you’re forgiven. What was the song ‘Viva la feccia’ [Long live the scum] about?
That came about because someone had written about us, Klasse Kriminale and a couple of other bands that we weren’t musicians, but “scum pretending to be musicians”. I don’t remember if that was a politician or a music journalist. Anyway, we wrote that song, and when I penned the lyrics, I had all those miserable sods in mind who used to point fingers at us.
It’s my favourite track by Ghetto 84. I first heard it on the Oi! Siamo ancora qui compilation when I was 17 or so – that album was my first exposure to Italian Oi.
For me, that’s the best Italian Oi compilation ever. Marco Balestrino from Klasse Kriminale did a great job producing it.
Some real gems by Klasse Kriminale, Rough and others, but also some crap, like that song by Bulldog Skin, which is just really slow and dull.
I think that was actually the Nabat influence, because in the beginning Nabat were playing very slow neanderthal Oi. Rip-Off were the same. I’m not a big fan of that style of music.
I quite like a bit of slow neanderthal Oi, but I draw the line at Bulldog Skin… Tell us about the ‘Raduno Oi!’ festival in Bologna in 1989, where you played with Klasse Kriminale, Strike (the Italian ska band) and others.
That was the last ‘Raduno Oi!’. There were people there from all across Italy. For me, it stands out as one of the best Oi festivals ever, simply because it wasn’t just about Oi. You had scooterists, mods, rudeboys, rudegirls – it felt like our entire subcultural family tree was there. There was a bit of trouble with some people from Rome or Milan, I don’t remember. They must have been from Milan ‘cos they were quite snobbish. The Romans were much cooler and more working class. Anyway, some of the SHARP skins from Milan gave me a hard time because I had draped the Italian flag round my shoulders while we were performing. We later became good mates with the Romans, but not with the Milan SHARPs. There was a lot of bullshit between us at the time.
What happened?
They told me off after the gig, saying the flag was a nationalist symbol. I said, “Did you hear any nationalist slogans from us? I’m just showing some love for my country. If you want to see it as right-wing or fascist, that’s your issue. For me it’s got nothing to do with fascism”. Then I asked them if they love Milan. They said yes, of course. So I asked: “Does that mean you’re a fascist?” Use your brain – case closed.
People forget that the anti-fascist partisans used the tricolore too (but with a red star in the centre). What about the far right – did you get any grief from them at the time?
You mean in 1989? At that time, the scene began to split. I don’t remember if SHARP had arrived yet, but when it did, you had to pick a side. Before that, politics wasn’t such a major issue. We were pretty tight with the Genova crowd. Sure, we had a few right-wingers in our crew, and they had some in theirs, but we didn’t really talk politics. You wouldn’t catch us wearing Skrewdriver t-shirts – or Banda Bassotti ones for that matter.
Any far-left types in your mob?
Oh yeah, sure. For example, one of the lads was pretty active in Democracia Proletaria, which was a far-left party at the time. And my best friend in Genova was right-wing, but we never clashed over politics because we put skinhead and rudeboy culture first. But things began to change when the nazi skins started cropping up in numbers. I’d say it started about 1989, right around the time the Berlin Wall fell. Before that, you only had Veneto Fronte Skinheads, and with them we never got along – even the right-wingers in our firm hated them.
Why was that?
They were just too much, too extreme. I remember some right-wingers from our firm saying, “I might be right-wing, but our grandparents fought against the nazis, so I won’t stand for nazism”.
So I take it you never got to see Plastic Surgery?
Nope. Once I had the displeasure of meeting the leader of Veneto Fronte Skinheads. He’s since ventured into politics, either with Lega or Fratelli d’Italia, if memory serves me right. He just came across as a dickhead to me. But as for Plastic Surgery, never got to see them live.
Let’s return to Ghetto 84. All your early recordings – i.e. basically the tape and some additions – were reissued on vinyl and CD in 1995. The following year, A Denti Stretti came out. But it took over 20 years until the next album, Ultras Rock ‘n’ Roll, materialised… What happened in between?
I went through a period where I lost interest in punk rock and felt disheartened with the skinhead scene for personal reasons I’d rather not delve into. Let’s just say I got fed up like many other bands. The last few years with Ghetto 84 weren’t so cool: we were dealing with alcohol and drug problems, playing very few gigs, and the shows we did play usually ended up with some sort of brawl. We never officially broke up and we remained friends, but we bascially put everything on hold indefinitely. Each of us went our separate ways musically, pursuing our own projects.
What were yours?
I grew my hair out a bit and started making completely different music. DJing became a big focus for me. I also dived into the world of samplers and drum machines, and I began producing my own music. After all the stress of the previous years, it felt like a breath of fresh air. I also recorded my first solo album, and I met Roy Paci & Aretuska, one of Italy’s pioneering ska bands. They hailed from Sicily but were based in Bologna at the time. I joined their ranks and embarked on a journey playing all across Europe with them from 2002 to 2006.
After my divorce, I emigrated to Barcelona and hooked up with La Kinky Beat, where I played from 2006 to 2010. They were a patchanka band, which means they blended Latin rock, ska, and mestizo. We went on numerous tours, hitting up Mexico, Brazil, and various spots in Europe. During those years, I formed some tight bonds, including a friendship with Manu Chao. One day, Manu and Fermin Muguruza (of Kortatu and Negu Gorriak fame) reached out and asked if I’d be up for doing some sound work on their upcoming tour. I didn’t even have to think twice about it. Originally, they had only planned for me to handle their gig in Italy, but I ended up tagging along for the entire tour. Down the line, I got involved in remixing some of Manu Chao’s tracks, and I had the pleasure of playing with Fermin quite a bit.
During all those years, Ghetto 84 remained inactive because I just couldn’t find any time for punk rock. Music had evolved into a full-fledged business for me. Between 2001 and 2009, my official job title was ‘musician’. I was making good money and was constantly on the road, touring my arse off. We’re talking gigs in places like Japan, and even an international festival in Mexico City that drew 80,000 people. I was part of La Kinky Beat at that time, sharing the stage with Fermin Muruguza, Banda Bassotti, and El Gran Silencio, a major Mexican rock band. It was during this period that Fermin and I became close friends, and I did some remixes of his tracks.
Back then, I had started to blend drum & bass with ska beats, cumbia, and other Latin sounds. I ended up recording three solo albums, all produced by Fermin.
Did you stay in touch with the skinhead scene at all?
But of course! I’ve always had a soft spot for the skinhead scene, and it was genuinely cool when I crossed paths with skinheads, especially during our tours in places like South America or Japan. It made me happy, and they were often pretty surprised that someone making the music I did knew his stuff about skinhead reggae.
So how did the Ghetto 84 reunion come about?
It was mainly down to ‘Mascio’, you know, Davide from Bologna City Rockers, who played a big part in it. He knew I’d been hitting up festivals in Spain with punk rock bands again. So he floated the idea of a Ghetto 84 comeback. My initial response? I said, “You’d have to drop quite a bit of cash on the table for me to even consider it.” Money was on my mind because, you see, music had become my business. So, initially, I turned it down.
But then, about a decade ago, Michelangelo, one of the founding members of our crew, ended up behind bars because he’d taken shots at three nazis. Now, usually, it was the nazis who were the ones stabbing people or using other dangerous weapons. But this time, one of our own had put bullets in three nazis’ arses. Bologna City Rockers decided to organise a benefit gig to help raise legal funds. When they came knocking again, I thought, “Alright, that’s my scene.” I gave the others a call, and we agreed to play a one-off reunion show at the benefit concert.
Was that the original line-up?
Absolutely, we never changed our line-up. But that was just the beginning, of course. We ended up playing more and more shows. And eventually, as we saw many old bands making a comeback, we figured, “Why not us?” So we decided to record the album Ultras Rock ‘n’ Roll. Now, I’m not entirely satisfied with every bit of it, but given the circumstances under which we recorded it, it turned out pretty damn good. It wasn’t easy to do either, especially because by then, I was back living in Germany.
Will there be another?
Absolutely not. The reunion was a one-off deal, and that chapter’s firmly closed.
I saw you at the Sottotetto together with Cockney Rejects and Komintern Sect in 2018. I still lived in London at the time and was visiting Bologna as a tourist.
Oh yeah, that gig was a blast – a year before the album came out. Sadly, our drummer Antonio, the Latin-American fella you saw playing at that gig and one of the founding members alongside me, passed away. I’ve had plenty of offers to do Ghetto 84 with other folks since, but without Antonio, it just wouldn’t be the same.
Any other projects in the pipeline?
Well, I’ve dropped a skinhead reggae solo album, and then there’s Zona Popolare.
Yeah, what’s the story with Zona Popolare – I mean, you’re living in Dresden, and they’re in Bologna?
They found themselves without a lead singer when their previous one ran into some serious alcohol-related issues. They’d just wrapped up recording an album under really tough conditions, and it seemed like they had no way to hit the stage. So they gave me a call and asked if I’d step in as their singer for the gig they had last night. Their guitarist Kiko, he’s like a brother to me. He’s always had my back during tough times, and I can’t say no to him. I didn’t have much time to learn all the lyrics, so I did what you saw last night – I dressed up as the Pope, which allowed me to read most of the lyrics from a sheet while giving it that ‘preaching’ vibe.
Will you continue playing with Zona Popolare?
I don’t know. You see, I’m living quite far away. I told them that I’m happy to play decent gigs, but no more than four or five a year. Of course I can’t be jumping on an airplane just to play a minor gig somewhere out in the sticks. But I’m always happy to do stuff for Bologna City Rockers, whom I’ve seen create a scene from nothing. When they started, in 2010/11, the scene was completely dead – and look at now!
Your thoughts on last night’s gig?
I told them I had a good feeling about the slower numbers – you know, I’m more bluesy, more rock ‘n’ roll. So if they want to lean towards glam, bovver rock, I’m up for it 100 percent. But if they’re thinking too-pah too-pah… you know, that hardcore punk beat? We call it too-pah too-pah.
Yeah, the hardcore punk beat is actually a sped-up polka beat.
Manu Chao always calls it ‘Roman techno’, I’m not quite sure why. Anyway, that’s the kind of punk I don’t want to do anymore ‘cos it’s boring to me.
We should probably slowly draw to a close now. Can you tell us about the single you’ve got coming out soon?
The new single is part of a project that I’ve been dreaming about for a long time, going back to the music that I love the most: original skinhead reggae, soul, 50s R&B. I blend these old sounds with my own Italian lyrics and with the subculture that I’ve loved from day one. I’m working with different musicians from Barcelona, Italy, Germany and Mexico. The Trenta soldi d’argento single is a Prince Buster tribute in Italian, but more will follow. Lots of ska and reggae bands are sensational musicians but their lyrics are cheesy. I’ll give people something real.
Let me ask you one last question and return to where we began: like me, you’re a bit of a gypsy who has lived in a series of different countries…
Yeah, I’m the king of the gypsies!
So which of these countries do you consider your real home?
Matt, you’re breaking my heart right now… I consider myself one hundred percent Italian, to the bone. Not the politics, but the culture, the roots, the history – all of this is part of me. And it’s always very painful for me that I can’t live in my beloved city of Bologna.
You aren’t happy in Dresden?
I’m happy because I love my woman – she’s the love of my life and the reason I’m in Dresden, and I’ve got good work there. But I feel very connected to Italy, and I consider myself Bolognese.
We’re outliers in a scene that’s always been about local ties and roots. Then again, one of the proudest Brits I know now lives in Poland, and I know some very patriotic Sardinians who have for some reason chosen to live in Bologna…
Yeah, and sometimes it’s been painful for me. First I was considered a German, then I was an Italian, then I was a German again, then I was an Italian living in Spain, and so on… Sometimes I’m not even sure if I’m thinking in English, German, or Italian. You must’ve experienced it too – you drink a couple of beers, and you accidentally start talking in a different language!
Oh yeah.
What about you – you were born Polish, right?
Yeah.
So what do you feel as?
Well, I’ve lived in Poland, Germany, England, Italy. I’ve got all these influences running through me, and I’m sentimentally attached to all these countries in different ways. Polish is the language I still speak with my parents, so Poland feels like where I’m ‘from’. But I’ve spent more time living in other countries.
Right. There’s one thing I could never do, though: as an Italian, I can’t support Germany at football. All my life, for me and my father, the real highlight was Italy vs Germany at football. ‘Cause we knew they were a bit scared of us. Sure, sometimes they got the better of us, but most of the time it was the other way round.
I supported Italy in the Euro Cup. It was a great moment when Italy won.
I’m happy to hear that.
Thanks very much for the interview, Rude.
Creases Like Knives 