Who would’ve thought? The incendiary face of Måneskin, the one we watched climb stages across the globe clad in leather and roaring Zitti e buoni, now re-emerges with a debut solo album where he opens up about fears, loss, voices in his head, and the kind of love that doesn’t fade easily. In Funny Little Fears, Damiano David trades screams for whispers, provocation for vulnerability, and sheds all the layers and circumstances that once held him back.
An introspective and confessional album, it makes its intentions clear from the very first track, Voices, where Damiano lays it bare: sometimes changing city, partner, identity or scene isn’t enough to outrun what’s chasing us. “These voices, they’re gonna find me wherever I go,” he sings. It’s a powerful opening that frames the record as a kind of public therapy, a necessary confession.
And that seems to be the driving force behind the whole project: the urgency to speak from a more intimate, uncomfortable place. Since his Eurovision triumph in 2021, he’s been in the public eye — and everything that comes with that. In Next Summer, for instance, he doesn’t mask the bittersweet resentment towards a lost love. There’s sarcasm in lines like “I really hope he breaks your heart next summer,” but also a sincere vulnerability peeking through the heartbreak. Then comes Sick of Myself, confronting the emotional exhaustion of not being able to live with oneself.
The second half of the album dares to open even more windows. Tango begins with a theatrical wink; Mars speaks of the desire to stay with someone, no matter where; and the closing tracks, –Silverlines with Labrinth, and Solitude (No One Understands Me) – dive deep into synth-pop ballads that say more with less.
The collaborations are also a cornerstone of the project. In The Bruise, Suki Waterhouse’s nostalgic voice melts into Damiano’s in a song of intense longing, while Zombie Lady, featuring Dove Cameron, becomes a gothic-romantic fantasy, an ode to loving the broken parts of someone. Damiano holds nothing back, and in Tangerine, the addition of d4vd introduces a shadowy R&B tone that brings a darker depth to the whole.
Beyond its strengths, Funny Little Fears holds one undeniable value: it’s a necessary step. As Damiano himself admitted, this album isn’t an attempt to sound mature or sophisticated, but a pressing need to show his most authentic side. “I’ve always been afraid of heights, of the ground giving way beneath me and everything vanishing in an instant,” the singer reveals. And in a way, each track here is a torn-out page from that emotional diary.
There will be comparisons, no doubt, to other artists who walked the path of post-band emancipation, but this particular journey feels like an effort to shatter the mirror of the onstage persona and find out what’s left when the lights go out. Because sometimes, you have to lose your footing and feel the vertigo to learn where to stand.