03/12/2008
I had marked the date by September, the ticket I had bought some time for do not risk it. The Massimo Volume I knew them as usual late, on some forum, perhaps on a debaser. We tried without success in thousands of record stores, collecting the puzzled faces of committed mainstream, I downloaded the album in four unique solution: one of those files discografia.zip. I listened to the first three albums in the loop. It was something different, qu
Alcosa terrible. Note that we have dug in, hypnotic words, those suspensions spacewalk, the moments of sudden fury. The emptiness, the sense of loss, alienation. arrived at " private club" with fear, knowing that something had changed, had a broken balance. I never completed, even once, listening to their latest work. Too many: too many sounds, whispered words then strain and less intelligible, that song mentioned that he knew of treason.
But there remained the little dream: to see them once, to hear their stories live devastating.
I'll tell half the world's concert on Wednesday, and of course half the world has given up: there were many ( small, different, possible and preferable ) things to do. E 'was only Bembo, who even knew them, but decided not to leave just a friend. Duff and Bembo in the crowd has thickened rapidly, saturating the club.
Opening act of Giovanni Ferrario. Alone on stage, a man and his guitar, send loop accompaniments and there rages on with solo misrepresented, the mixer looks puzzled, dissociating himself from the public, quarrels with amplifiers and effects, walking dazed, seems not to believe anything to what he is doing and is not slow to cash in mockery ( however stupid, however misplaced ) of someone in the crowd. Fila away embarrassed, nodding a greeting, while the wait is solid. They come in four . Sommacal is the ghost in front of me. Clementi is austere: the last pictures on the web looked like a cross between Faletti and Covatta, but live is different, there is this nervous energy, vaguely solemn.
They are, all those great little songs that I've repeated for years in mind, one after another, they attack without mercy. The lights Club, unlike previous concerts, working perfectly: participating in the story underscores the treacherous dreamlike with red and blue in contrast, become an intermittent white sulfur at times aggressive, or relax in a smoky yellow lattice and never blind. The
sounds are perfect: it stands all, every note, every word.
S ommacal and second guitarist ( Stefano Pilia? s or not, I apologize for the ignorance ) cross that is a pleasure, relax and know their liquid magma scratch when you need it , are never an end in itself sound, they pull out all the possible sounds from the six strings ( with unconventional instruments: a stick battery n ar eu label, I suppose cello).
Cl em institutions : I really would like him to say something more of a song and the next, telling what happened in these years, speaking in Rome or the world, but perhaps not by him. E 'concentrated feels when he plays the bass notes arching round the body. During breaks he devoted himself to a curious gesture: move index and middle fingers together between the root of the nose and the microphone, drawing over and over an imaginary line of junction between the brain and amplification. He speaks only once, beyond thanks to the public: is a single sentence that identifies it as a little full, " I bought a new shirt for this concert," , you do not know if it's irony, or is there a simple news philosophy behind it or is just a few words thrown in to fill the vacuum of tuning. Clementi is great.
Track list: fishing from any work in the studio, unfortunately from " private club" with "seychelles '81 voiceless filtered ( and the effect is worse original Perhaps the only song that I really did not go down the concert ), "After " and its text spectacular ( yes, the album is good because I have not digested, but I never said that it has its high moments ), something that does not (re ) know. From " edges ": " the first god," " winter '85," "the night of 11 October ", "fat fire uo. From " rooms ": "Tomas and I Roland", " views from space," "Alexander . From " here ": " final action" and probably other stuff. The list, certainly incomplete, it reflects not only I remember, that is, also, what I tried to understand the words matching the titles of the songs ( yes, if you hear a CD in the car or with your eyes closed, lying in bed, difficulty cilmente do it with titles superimposed ).
Perhaps, having just choose what they most wanted to do was cry with him, "that's what Leo siamooo ", or hear rattle off all the shards of obsessive " Alessandro." Well, it happened.
