“Chiamami per nome” is a heartfelt conversation between two people who keep bumping into their own fears while looking for something real. Francesca Michielin and Fedez move through everyday scenes—jogging in the neighborhood park, standing in a cramped elevator, driving at night—yet their minds race with bigger questions. They feel “spille” (pins) in their hearts, make “mille” excuses and promises, and watch their anger rise like “sassi contro le vetrine” (stones against shop windows). Still, each time doubt swells, they reach for the same lifeline: Call me by my name when I have no words left. That simple request becomes a code for authenticity, a way to strip away masks and hold onto each other when everything else feels shaky.
Beneath catchy pop hooks, the song unpacks the fragility of modern love. It shows how two people can be surrounded by a crowd—“qui sull’erba siamo mille, mille”—yet feel the electric pull of one another alone. They are willing to trade “gold for bread” if it means a relationship that is honest instead of flashy. By the final chorus, the repeated “chiamami” sounds less like a plea and more like a vow: no matter how many promises have been broken, no matter how heavy the rain, speaking each other’s name is the compass that guides them back to where true connection lives.