Understanding music as a connector in which the process of making it feels like therapy and sharing it with the world becomes a revealing moment of great emotional power, Valentina continues to make her songs a great communicator and healer through honesty. Her latest single, Babbo, is a raw and poignant track that delves into themes of identity, belonging, and the emotional complexity of fractured familial relationships. We speak with the English-Italian artist and producer to ask her about the experiences that inspire this latest release and reflect on the impact that absence and disconnection with a part of one's identity can have in the long term. Following on from her celebrated EPs, You Know Where My Happiness Went, Nature, and All Are Lost, on Babbo, her latest release, Valentina captures a profound sense of displacement and reconnection, exploring the lasting effects of her own family separation. “When you are stuck in the middle between families, cultures, and groups, you can sometimes feel that you need to be a bridge, but you don't; that is not your responsibility,” she now shares with her audience, sending a powerful message based on her personal experiences and her own healing process. Valentina, three weeks ago you presented your new single, Babbo. Release days are always very special. How did you feel when you shared this track? I always get a bit of a vulnerability hangover after releasing a song, especially when it is very personal like this one is! But mainly I am happy to have it out in the world; it feels like the right time. This single, in the works since 2020, delves into themes of identity, belonging, and the emotional complexity of fractured familial relationships. Could you tell us more about the process of creating this song? Has it been a very intense, even painful experience? I feel like Babbo says what I’d been trying to say for a while. I have explored many iterations of this idea over the years. In a way, this song was like my final word on it. I remember very vividly I’d gone home to my mum’s, and I was playing the old piano there. I started moving between these two distinct chord moods. My mum was sitting behind me in the living room, and the melody and words just rolled out. It feels strange that it is about my dad and everything that happened in my childhood, and that I wrote it with my mum in the same room; it’s like I was writing her song even though she didn’t say a word. I’ve not really done that before! I’m pretty sure addressing such deep and sensitive topics is not easy at all, even though music has become a liberating tool for channelling emotions and sharing them with the world. For you, what is the main mission of music? No, it isn’t always easy, especially, as I mentioned earlier, when it comes to sharing it with the world. The process of making it is a therapy, but then it becomes quite exposing to share that. Music is a connector; it is pure love, which sounds cheesy but really shouldn’t if you think about it. We all want to feel connected to and understood by those around us, and that’s what music can do. You were born in Italy, but your family split, and your mother and you came to England when you were a baby, moving away from your father and brother, who stayed in your native country. How do you remember those first years in the UK? How was the adaptation process? My mum and I initially came to live with my aunt in the UK as we were essentially homeless. I then have memories of a few different places we lived as we moved around a bit. Those memories are always warm, though, and full of a lot of love. Apparently, I spoke English with the sentences the wrong way around, as if I were speaking Italian. I was only a baby so language was only just starting to form. Part of what the song talks about is not being given a voice, my native tongue, to communicate with my family. My dad never spoke a word of English so the disconnect was always huge and difficult. In Babbo, which is an Italian term for father, you speak with raw honesty about your late, absent father and the challenges of growing up with a dual identity. And you expose a reality that is more common than it seems, exploring what it means to be cut from your roots and powerless to reconnect. How have you stayed connected to your roots during all these years? And how do you feel when you visit Italy? The distance and the absence of any contact with my family during that period have had a lasting impact on me. It wasn’t until I was ten years old that we finally went back to Italy and I met them. So that was the beginning of trying to reconnect, but it’s taken many years and has been a difficult journey. One of the main things I have tried to do and continue to work on is speaking the language; without it, I realise there is no real relationship with my family. As a new generation emerges, and nieces and nephews are born, I feel more than ever that I don’t want history to repeat itself; I want to break the cycle. I go as often as I can, and I have managed to build my own relationship with Italy the older I’ve got, without anyone else’s baggage weighing me down. What message would you like to send to all those who may be going through a similar situation to the one you exposed in your latest release? In whatever way you can, try to explore and make peace with the different parts of your identity that may not have been allowed to coexist in a situation like this. When you are stuck in the middle between families, cultures, and groups, you can sometimes feel that you need to be a bridge, but you don’t; that is not your responsibility. The song is produced by Tev’n, who has previously worked with artists such as Celeste and Jorja Smith, among others. Was it clear to you who you wanted to collaborate with on this track? We were writing together a lot at the time, and so I think I just brought the song to him. I love how sensitive and perceptive his production is—he knows somehow how to make emotion into sound. The pitch shifting in my vocals and the sonic landscape he created with it feel like everything I couldn’t say with words. You have been praised by many specialised media, including The Guardian, describing you as “a bit of a secret weapon in the world of indie electronica.” What do you think sets your musical approach apart from other creators? For me, writing is always personal, and it always comes from a place of emotion; if it doesn’t do that, then what’s the point? A song is the greatest communicator and healer if you get it right and you’re honest. I’ve always been obsessed with what makes a good song, but to look into the technical processes behind it is to undermine the magic of it. No one really knows what they’re doing, and that’s great! As soon as you’re too aware, something is lost, maybe the honesty or a real intention to reach someone else with what you’re trying to say. The energy and feeling I want to convey are the most important things and dictate the musical decisions I make. My choice of synth sound or kick drum all comes down to this: I don’t like to be too cerebral about the process. I never hear a song and think I want to write a song like that, but I have a feeling, a thought, an idea, and I have the need to know what it sounds like, to try and make it into sound. Although music is the fundamental pillar of your creative universe, you also pay special attention to aesthetics and fashion, as shown in the photos we are now presenting. What role does fashion play in your conception of art, and how do you implement it in your artistic project? I enjoy the expression that comes with clothes, how they can affect our mood, the identity we build with them, and why we are and aren’t comfortable in something, how one thing can feel so wrong on your skin and something else very much like it’s part of you. We wear it as protection and communication. You are always communicating something with what you wear, even if you’re not aware of it. And what is more interesting is what you’re able to say with it, which is not always possible with words. All of this speaks to me the way making music does; the two are strongly interlinked. When I think of my live show or the artwork for a release, I am trying to engage with a certain element of the music or a concept I want to explore, and fashion is a tool to do this with. And what can you tell us about your projects for 2025? I plan to do a lot of writing, including some more collaborative projects after such a long period of doing it all myself. I also have my live show starting to build now, so I will be playing some shows, and I have a couple of releases in the pipeline too! Words David Alarcón Photos Ed Aked Styling Freddy/Flora