Francesca Pichierri builds entire sonic landscapes to face discomfort head-on. With Cellule Stronze, she captures the fractures, weight, and strange poetry of living alongside cancer. In this exclusive interview, she speaks with unflinching honesty about creating Amen, a track that laces biting critique into dancefloor-ready rhythms, and explains how it fits into her wider narrative on presence, pain, and human connection. Francesca opens up about the emotional labour behind the production process, the tension between vulnerability and performance, and how the album became a tool for confronting both social silence and personal grief. From the conceptual construction of each track to the grassroots independence that powers her vision, this conversation gets to the heart of an artist who refuses to prioritise comfort over truth. If you’ve ever sought refuge in music that actually says something—this is for you.
Welcome to A&R Factory – thanks for taking the time to speak with us. We’re looking forward to pulling back the curtain on both Amen and your wider work on Cellule Stronze.
Thank you for having me! I really appreciate the opportunity to share more about this project, which is deeply significant to me.
Amen feels like a pivotal moment within the larger concept of Cellule Stronze – what did you want this particular track to convey in the wider context of the album, and how did you shape it sonically to match its role?
Amen is one of the most rhythmically engaging and ironic tracks on the album, yet beneath its groove lies a sharp critique. It confronts the phenomenon of “cancer ghosting”, when people disappear in the face of suffering, shedding light on a crucial aspect of the album’s narrative. The album title, Cellule Stronze, Italian for “bastard cells” or “bitchy cells”, carries a dual meaning: it refers both to the relentless nature of cancer cells and the social “cells” of human connection that can fracture under the weight of adversity. Amen plays a pivotal role in exploring this theme, highlighting the contrast between words and the much harder act of showing up when it truly matters.
Sonically, I wanted the track to embody this contradiction. I fused elements of disco, synth-driven dance-pop, and funk with gospel and soul influences to create something danceable yet thought-provoking. The infectious groove serves as a stark counterpoint to its bitter message, mirroring the dissonance between outward expressions of support and the silence that often follows. Even if you don’t immediately catch the critique in the lyrics, you can still move to the beat and get lost in the rhythm: music has that power to pull people in, sometimes before they realize what they’re feeling.
You’ve described the album as a sonic book, with each track functioning like a chapter – what drove you to approach the structure of the album in this way, and how did that influence your decisions during production?
The experience of being by my mother’s side as she navigated illness gave me a profound perspective on the complexities of cancer, physically, psychologically, and socially. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, one that’s difficult to fully grasp unless you’ve lived through it. I wanted to capture that complexity by focusing on key moments in our journey, those that felt particularly significant and revealing.
Musically, I aimed to reflect the fluid, multifaceted, and ever-evolving nature of human emotions in every piece. Rather than confining myself to a specific genre, I wanted the sound to follow the emotional depth of the experience. Structuring the album as a sonic bookallowed me to craft a cohesive narrative where each song functions like a chapter: distinct yet deeply interconnected.
During production, I made intentional choices to mirror the different stages of this journey. The haunting stillness of Gelo reflects the shock of diagnosis, while the defiant irony of Amen captures a different emotional shade. But even for listeners who haven’t experienced illness firsthand, these moments tap into universal emotions: grief, resilience, frustration, hope. This approach ensured that each track stands on its own while contributing to a larger, immersive listening experience, one that unfolds like a story meant to be heard in its entirety.
When telling a story as raw and personal as your mother’s experience with cancer, how did you navigate the emotional toll of writing and performing? Were there any moments where you had to step away or rethink how to express something?
That’s such a thoughtful question, thank you! I would say that the writing phase was, in a way, the “safest” part of the process: fast, liberating, and private. It became my solitary space where I could let go of my emotions and try to make sense of what was happening. When you’re a caregiver supporting someone with cancer, there’s often a feeling that your own worries don’t matter; you’re fully focused on the person you love. Writing the album, however, gave me a space to process everything, almost like a form of therapy.
The songs were written between 2021 and 2023, during the first few years after cancer entered our lives. It was an incredibly painful and confusing time, and music became my way of regaining a sense of control in the chaos. Expressing those emotions through music was cathartic and helped me cope.
The hardest part for me, though, was the production phase. Once the songs were written, I had to dig deeper into them, re-live those feelings, and re-connect with the raw emotion behind each track. There were moments when it became too much, and I had to step away to regain my emotional balance. But the real challenge was and still is performing the songs. When I step on stage, I have to somewhat detach myself, like I’m not me anymore. It’s a strange balance between being fully present and not allowing the emotions to overwhelm me. If I let them take over, I could lose control of my voice or the performance itself.
But even through the difficulty, I found strength in knowing that these songs could resonate with others facing their own struggles, even if they aren’t directly related to cancer. Listeners have shared that the songs reminded them of their own personal hardships, the pressure of constantly holding it together, and the fear of not being accepted for who they truly are. After all, at its core, this album is about human connection: what it means to truly exist, to face the vulnerability of being alive, to love and support, to navigate the tension between holding on and letting go, and to find acceptance in the spaces where we’re confronted with the uncertainty of life.
That connection is what keeps me grounded and motivates me to perform, even when it’s emotionally difficult. Of course, I still get overwhelmed at times; certain songs, like “Il Nemico Dentro” and “Nel Dolore Cerca La” (which will be released with the album), carry such raw, personal energy that every time I hear them, I feel like I’m reliving those moments. But that’s also the beauty of music: it allows us to process, to remember, and to share those emotions with others in a way that words alone often can’t.
There’s a strong conceptual backbone to your work, but you also pay close attention to the intricacies of vocal expression, arrangement, and texture. What’s your usual process when constructing a track, and how do you balance creative intuition with concept-driven intention?
It often starts with something that captures my attention: an experience, a story, or an idea I feel drawn to explore. Sometimes, it’s just a few words that spark inspiration or a real-life scene that lingers in my mind. That initial spark gives me direction, shaping the foundation of the track. From there, I experiment, follow the sounds, and let the music and words unfold naturally.
But the process isn’t always linear or premeditated, it’s more like a conversation. At times, the meaning of a song reveals itself to me as if I’m uncovering something I’ve carried all along. Sometimes, inspiration strikes unexpectedly, while training my voice or working through guitar, piano, or drum exercises. It’s a constant balance between intention and discovery, structure and spontaneity. Writing, for me, is a space of freedom, but there’s always a story at its core, one with a vivid, thoughtful construction and deep emotional exploration.
As a narrative-driven songwriter, the story and its meaning shape the direction of the music rather than fitting into a specific genre. The concept plays a crucial role, especially in the production and arrangement phases. But above all, authenticity is key: every sound and vocal nuance must serve the emotion and the story, whether I set out to tell it from the start or discover it along the way.
You’ve spoken about raising awareness of the physical, psychological, and social impact of cancer. Have you had any response yet from listeners who have been through similar experiences, and how has that influenced how you view the album?
Yes, and those responses have been deeply moving. People have shared their own stories with me, and it has reinforced the importance of creating music that speaks to these realities. Knowing that this album is helping others feel seen brings me a deep sense of fulfillment. It’s not just my story, it belongs to everyone who has felt the impact of illness in their lives, or, more broadly, the challenges of confronting complex, life-altering experiences.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on these questions again: How personal should a songwriter be? How much should we invest in the social purpose of our work? And how do we balance emotional honesty with self-care? It’s not easy being so vulnerable, fully immersing yourself in raw emotions and real experiences, sharing them, talking about them, listening to others’ stories. Promoting the album on my own also means often revisiting the pain behind the songs.
But despite the emotional weight, I believe that authentic and fearless art has the power to create real impact. Comfort doesn’t change the world, but honesty might. And if being honest in my music helps others feel understood, then every challenge along the way has been worth it, especially in a time when empathy seems to be in short supply.
There’s something quietly radical about resisting the single-first mentality and instead crafting an album that requires listeners to experience the whole thing. How have you found working against that industry norm, and what kind of audience do you imagine for Cellule Stronze?
It’s definitely a challenge in an industry that prioritizes instant gratification, but I believe in the power of full-length storytelling. Some experiences can’t be condensed into a three-minute single, they need space to unfold, to be fully felt. Cellule Stronze is for listeners who crave depth, who want to sit with an album and let it reveal itself over time. I imagine an audience that values music not just as entertainment, but as a profound emotional and artistic experience, something to engage with, reflect on, and return to. I know that in today’s fast-paced world, time is scarce, but there are still those who cherish these richer, more immersive experiences.
As an independent artist, I’ve always cherished the freedom to follow my vision without being bound by external pressures to conform or prioritize commercial success. I’m grateful that I have the ability to finance my work and make the kind of music that feels true to me, without the fear of not fitting into the industry’s conventional molds. This freedom allows me to create with authenticity and purpose, without the pressure of chasing returns.
Musically and thematically, it’s a deeply vulnerable body of work. Did you ever feel hesitant about putting so much of yourself into the songs, or did the urgency of the subject push you past any reservations?
There were moments of hesitation, but the urgency of the subject always outweighed my fears. My mother’s story, our story, deserved to be told in a raw and honest way. Vulnerability can be terrifying, but it’s also what makes art impactful. I knew that if I held back, the music wouldn’t be true to what we’ve lived through. So I embraced that discomfort and let it fuel the authenticity of the album.
Finally, with four singles already released and Amen out now, how are you feeling about the full release of Cellule Stronze? Is there anything you’re doing to prepare for how it might be received, or are you more focused on simply getting the story heard?
I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This release feels like both a culmination and a beginning: a culmination because I’m eager to share the full body of work and hear how people connect with it; and a beginning because every release opens new doors. I’m proud of what I’ve created despite the challenges, but I’m also someone who is always evolving, studying, and refining my craft.
Cellule Stronze is a handmade album, an artisanal work shaped over years of writing between 2021 and 2023. With any creative process, you grow, and a part of me is ready to close this chapter and move forward. But right now, my focus is on making sure this story is heard and reaching the people who need it.
Of course, I hope it resonates widely, but at its core, this album exists to give voice to an experience that is often overlooked. If it sparks conversations, provides comfort, or simply makes someone feel less alone, then it has done what it was meant to do. I want this music to be a reminder that we’re all in this together, even when it feels like we’re not.
The album also challenges traditional approaches to music-making by demonstrating how artistry can transcend conventions, becoming a vehicle for profound meaning, emotional depth, and storytelling. It’s about prioritizing authenticity over industry expectations, embracing the rawness of human experience. What excites me most is seeing how people respond to a project that pushes boundaries in favor of something deeply personal and unapologetically real.
Beyond the emotional themes, I want listeners to fully immerse themselves in the sonic landscape of the album, whether it’s the raw intimacy or the unconventional nature of a vocal performance, the interplay of electronic and organic sounds, or the unexpected genre fusions. I want this album to be an experience that resonates long after the final note, not just in its meaning, but in its sound as well.
After all the work that went into it, I also want to fully enjoy this release: I’ve poured so much into it, and I can’t wait to finally share it!
I also want to take this opportunity to thank you for all the incredible support you’ve given to this project so far, and for the beautiful words you’ve shared about my music. Super grazie.
Discover the latest releases from Francesca Pichierri on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
