From Rockstar to Reflection: Damiano David’s Bold Reinvention
The long-awaited debut album from Italian rockstar Damiano David opens with Voices, an immediate earworm that sets the tone for an album filled with rock-influenced sentiment.
From the first few notes, it’s clear that this record marks a departure from his Måneskin roots. While echoes of his glam-rock past are present, this body of work moves in a more introspective and emotional direction. Voices, the most recently released single, captures the emotional dissonance of trying to move on from a troubled love, desperately seeking silence and peace, while knowing deep down that no amount of running can truly offer the freedom you desire.
Despite its high energy opener, the first half of the album leans into a softer, more sentimental soundscape than one might expect from someone accustomed to delivering vibrant performances to arenas full of adoring fans. The track Sick of Myself exemplifies this shift, serving as a delicate confessional in which Damiano bares his soul. The song is a gentle tale of emotional exhaustion and vulnerability. About leaning on the strength of someone you love when you can no longer find it within yourself. In this track, another person becomes your medicine, your last form of healing, when you’ve run out of fight on your own.
Known for his bold, fearless stage presence and larger-than-life persona as the frontman of Måneskin, Damiano has used his solo debut to show another side of himself. One that’s more vulnerable, introspective, and quietly powerful. In a recent interview with the Grammys, he discussed his intent behind the album. “The whole purpose of the album was to give me the chance to really understand myself,” he said. “People and the media kind of imprisoned me in this character of the fearless, bold rock star. Which, sometimes I am… It’s me, but it’s not my 100 percent.”
It’s not hard to see how a band like Måneskin, propelled to international fame almost overnight after winning Eurovision in 2021 with their hit ZITTI E BUONI, could get caught up in an image that doesn’t allow much room for softness. Touring the globe, headlining festivals, and carrying the banner of glam rock, the group has become known for their gritty sound and provocative performances. But with this album, Damiano sets out on a markedly different path. His goal appears to be to deconstruct that hardened rockstar persona and show the complexities that lie beneath.
One of the more intriguing aspects of any artist’s first solo record is discovering what kind of soundscape they choose to inhabit, especially when stepping out of the shadow of such a distinct and successful band. Zombie Lady provides an especially interesting case study. With dark, almost gothic overtones and lyrics like “Don’t stop eating my heart out, baby,” the track walks a fine line between pop, rock, and eerie theatricality. It’s a playful way of capturing the feeling of wanting to give your entire heart to someone in search of a supernatural, almost otherworldly connection.
Another standout moment from the first half of the album is The Bruise, an already beloved collaboration with English singer-songwriter and actress Suki Waterhouse. The song is a classically beautiful love ballad, laced with whispered lyrics about the longing to be so close to someone that you become a part of them, like a bruise under their skin. It’s a metaphor for understanding someone’s innermost thoughts and emotions. The song is haunting in its intimacy, and once again reinforces the album’s recurring motif, the intersection of beauty and darkness.
Midway through the album, the tempo shifts with Tango, a track that opens with bright piano chords and slowly builds into something with gospel undertones. The playful rhythm feeds directly into Funny Little Fears, which continues the theme with soulful vocal runs and an infectious chorus that feels straight out of a Panic! at the Disco record.
Toward the end, the emotional intensity deepens with Silverlines, a powerful collaboration with acclaimed British producer Labrinth. This track delves into the emotional and mental struggles Damiano has faced in recent years. Stripped back to a bare piano and raw vocals, the track builds slowly, reaching a haunting crescendo in the bridge. It’s one of the most raw and moving moments on the album, showcasing Damiano’s willingness to confront his pain in its entirety.
The album closes with Solitude (No One Understands Me), a haunting finale that reinforces everything the project has been building toward. It’s a quiet plea for understanding, a fitting conclusion to a record that dares to explore the shadows behind the spotlight. While some fans may be surprised by the album’s vulnerability, it feels like a natural evolution for an artist who has spent years living within a carefully curated image. By turning inward, Damiano has created something entirely his own. A dark, delicate, and deeply personal sound.
With a massive summer of festivals ahead and an even bigger solo world tour planned for the end of the year, Damiano is not just stepping out on his own, he’s doing so with a clear voice, a vulnerable heart, and an army of fans waiting to welcome his truest self.
