Review

Damiano David, the flamboyant frontman of Måneskin, has stepped out from the cacophonous glam-rock spotlight to deliver something wholly unexpected in Funny Little Fears — a debut solo effort that trades stadium anthems for intimacy, eyeliner for introspection. Let’s get this out of the way: this is not a rock album. It’s a brooding, genre-fluid exploration of vulnerability, pain, and fleeting joy — the sort of record one might expect from an artist who's spent years screaming into the void, only to one day whisper back. From the moment the needle drops on the opening track, “Glass Houses,” David sheds the bravado. His vocals, still commanding but now shrouded in melancholy, evoke the spectral elegance of early Jeff Buckley and the late-night confessionals of James Blake. The arrangements are sparse — pianos drift like smoke, synths swell then retreat — letting each lyric breathe (and often sting). Lyrically, the album walks a tightrope between the poetic and the painfully raw. Tracks like “Saltwater Eyes” and “Velvet Guillotine” are masterclasses in emotional excavation, digging into themes of dislocation, anxiety, and the small but seismic moments that define heartbreak. You get the sense these aren’t just songs — they’re exorcisms. Yet Funny Little Fears isn’t entirely devoid of light. “Amsterdam in Spring” offers a rare uptick in tempo and mood, its jangly guitars and subtle groove suggesting that healing, while not promised, remains possible. It’s a clever move, providing just enough hope to stop the whole affair from sinking under its own sorrow. Production-wise, David keeps things tastefully restrained. No grandstanding, no over-polished studio sheen — just raw edges and honest textures. It’s an album that feels lived-in, like a handwritten letter stained with coffee and regret. What’s perhaps most striking is the sheer bravery of it all. In stepping away from Måneskin’s thunder, David risks alienating fans expecting more leather and licks. But in doing so, he reveals an artist of surprising depth and sensitivity. Funny Little Fears doesn’t just showcase Damiano David the singer — it introduces Damiano David the human. Verdict: A haunting, gorgeously crafted debut that finds beauty in brokenness. Moody, mature, and utterly magnetic.

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