On May 21st, Italian dream pop/shoegaze outfit Six Impossible Things released Eight and a Half, the first track from their new double A-side single. It follows their well-received 2023 EP The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, a release that caught our attention, rocked Italian year-end lists and earned placements in editorial playlists like Fresh Finds and Rock Italia.
With Eight and a Half, the band steps further into layered, slow-burning territory, playing with form and tone while maintaining the intimacy that’s marked their work since their early days as a duo.
Originally sketched out in 2020 with a different guitar riff, Eight and a Half took its time before finding its final form. The band didn’t rush the process. “Sometimes it’s not about how much the song is good for you,” they explain. “It’s just about the right time to finally work on it and release it.” The title emerged during a rehearsal session, while jamming the outro and joking about how many times the part repeated. Someone blurted “eight and a half” — and it stuck. The reference to Fellini’s surrealist film came later, but the band felt the mood aligned perfectly.
The track deliberately avoids a traditional chorus. That wasn’t a statement as much as a feeling. The band had fallen in love with the verse, but a chorus never landed. “Last summer, while working on it, we decided to write a big instrumental part to close the song, ‘cause a chorus just didn’t feel right to us.”
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The result is a song that unfolds in waves, driven by emotional tension more than structure. The backdrop for its earliest writing — a still, eerie Codogno during the first outbreak of COVID in Europe — lingers in the track’s bones. “It was like being frozen in time,” they recall. “You can cry, but no one can even hear you, so does it really matter?”
Despite leaning into a more experimental structure and what they describe as their “heaviest” material to date, the band holds onto their signature hush. “Our sound is based on being intimate, cozy, and it stayed like that even though our influences and line-up changed throughout the years.” Since evolving from a duo into a four-piece with the addition of Enrico on bass and Emanuele on drums, the band’s arrangements have opened up. Songwriting still begins with Nicky and Lorenzo singing rough ideas over piano or acoustic guitar, but the full-band dynamic shapes the final structures. “Musically, we started exploring whole different worlds thanks to the two of them.”
Working with producer Maurizio Baggio (Messa, The Soft Moon, Glazyhaze) was another turning point. “Before working with him, we never thought a producer could influence the final result like that,” they say. “We can easily say that Maurizio shaped our vocal tone in these two songs and we couldn’t be happier about it.”
The band credits their ongoing evolution to staying close to what feels honest, even as the palette expands. Their titles often come after the music — The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living borrowed its name from a Damien Hirst artwork they discovered after the EP had already been written. That record marked a shift in ambition, but the path toward a full-length is proving slower, more deliberate. “We always write a lot of songs, maybe we don’t finish all of them… when we have the right amount of songs with the same vibe or in the same direction, we’ll start to define which songs will be on the record.”
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The band’s connection to the wider Italian scene remains strong. They namecheck acts like Mondaze, Glazyhaze, Brina, Novanta, Lamoureaux and Maquillage — artists building dream pop with local inflection and growing recognition beyond Italy’s borders. Past shows with bands like NewDad and Delta Sleep have left a mark, too: “Just seeing them play live gives you motivation in a unique way, it fuels you.”
And when the noise gets too loud, they return to Preacher’s Daughter by Ethel Cain. “This one will surely help us find a way back to ourselves in a moment of chaos.”
Read the full interview below, where we dive into the writing process behind Eight and a Half, working with producer Maurizio Baggio, shaping their debut album, and the Italian dream pop scene.
How do you know when a song feels like it’s yours? Not finished, not polished — just yours. Did Eight and a Half give you that kind of feeling early on, or did it take its time?
We wrote the verse for Eight and a Half in 2020 and it had a completely different guitar riff. We didn’t release it until now so it definitely took its time. Sometimes it’s not about how much the song is good for you, it’s just about the right time to finally work on it and release it.
What was it about Eight and a Half — as a title, a reference, a feeling — that made it the right name for this particular track? Was it the dream logic of the film, or something more subtle you were chasing?
We were jamming the instrumental outro of the song in the practice room, asking ourselves “how many times do we have to repeat this?”. Someone came up with “eight and a half” and at that moment we knew that was gonna be the title, the Fellini reference suited the song perfectly.
You decided to let go of a traditional chorus in this one — was that a deliberate statement or more of an instinctive decision that just… felt better?
When we started writing this song years ago, we had this verse that we were in love with, but we never got to find a chorus for the song. Last summer, while working on it, we decided to write a big instrumental part to close the song, ‘cause a chorus just didn’t feel right to us.
There’s a tension in the track — that aching run forward, that feeling of crying even as the tears dry. What kind of space were you in emotionally while writing it?
When we wrote this song we were in Codogno (Northern Italy), at that moment, the place in Europe where Covid hit first. We were home alone and the world seemed completely still. It was the first time something like that was happening to us, we were really scared and didn’t know how to act in a situation like that. It was like being frozen in time, you can cry, but no one can even hear you, so does it really matter?
There’s always been this cozy, almost hushed intimacy in your sound, even when the guitars swell and everything seems on the verge of spilling over. How do you keep that sense of nearness intact when you’re writing more expansive or experimental material?
I think that’s our way of doing things. Our sound is based on being intimate, cozy, and it stayed like that even though our influences and line-up changed throughout the years. So we stick to it, even this time when we are probably talking about our “heaviest” song to date.
Working with Maurizio Baggio, especially given his background with the Soft Moon and Messa, must’ve shaped the textures in a unique way — what kind of sonic risks or surprises came out of those sessions?
Before working with him, we never thought a producer could influence the final result like that. We can easily say that Maurizio shaped our vocal tone in these two songs and we couldn’t be happier about it.
You made the leap from a duo to a full band on the last EP — what changed in the dynamic when it comes to songwriting? Does adding rhythm give you more room to explore melancholy differently?
Songwriting always starts with the two of us (Nicky and Lorenzo) singing little ideas over an acoustic guitar or some piano chords, just like it was before Enrico (bass) and Emanuele (drums) joined the band. We can see the real difference when it comes to arrangement and the structure of the songs. Musically, we started exploring whole different worlds thanks to the two of them.
Your last EP had this stunning title — The physical impossibility of death in the mind of someone living — something about it still lingers long after reading it. Do you often start with titles or themes before sound, or does the mood dictate where things go?
The second one probably, we had already written all the songs for our last EP when we came up with the title. It’s taken from an artwork by Damien Hirst, a leading member of the Young British Artists (YBA). We were reading about this group of visual artists and the name of this piece of art seemed to perfectly summarize the meaning of the songs.
As someone listening from outside of Italy, I’m curious — what’s the local scene like these days for dreamy, melancholic, textured music like yours? Do you feel isolated stylistically, or are there pockets of likeminded artists you’re surrounded by?
Italy has always had a special relationship with shoegaze and dream pop, but now more than ever. Italian bands like Mondaze and Glazyhaze are starting to have a big following outside the country. Not many years ago Be Forest were also a big thing and one of our influences for sure.
Were there any Italian acts you discovered or got closer to in 2023 that completely caught you off guard? Artists doing things in their own quiet, brilliant way?
Some of our favourite artists, and friends, in the genre are Brina and Novanta from Milan, Lamoureaux from Piacenza and Maquillage (they’re from Belgium but their singer, Gioia, is italian).
When you tour or play with bands like NewDad or Delta Sleep, what sort of imprint does that leave on you creatively? Do those moments stay with you in how you approach your next project?
The day after the show, we always wake up with the desire of writing new songs or to create in any way. When you’re on the same bill with such bands, just seeing them play live gives you motivation in a unique way, it fuels you.
You’re slowly shaping your first full-length — I imagine that feels both thrilling and a bit daunting. Is there a particular story or emotional through-line you’re following with it, or are you letting the songs take the lead?
Yeah, it feels a bit daunting. It’s our first time working on a project this big. Regarding the process we always write a lot of songs, maybe we don’t finish all of them, but even if it’s just an idea, we always want to create as much as possible. When we have the right amount of songs with the same vibe or in the same direction, we’ll start to define which songs will be on the record and how to shape its sound.
Last one — when everything around you gets loud and overwhelming, what’s the one album or sound or even just moment of silence you return to so you can hear yourself again?
We listen to a ton of different music, so it’s always difficult to choose a single record or artist. But, if I have to think about a record we both loved a lot throughout these last years, it’s Preacher’s Daughter by Ethel Cain, this one will surely help us find a way back to ourselves in a moment of chaos.
