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Rating: You stand still but you travel, that’s the secret. The road is inside the room, even if it’s not exactly a road, but a girl singing; her name is Adrienne and she’s wearing a cowboy hat or maybe a squirrel on her head, who knows.
Who knows how certain things are possible: the gentle, very human tone, the melodies beneath the skin, the voice that tells stories and enchants.
Whatever the case, it’s a wonder that everyone, absolutely everyone, notices: the ghost of the stage, the clouds outside the revolution hall, the guy in the front row, even the one at the bar—if there’s a bar at all.
Ah ladies and gentlemen, this is a live album and not just a collection of songs with applause in between; maybe it’s because the spirit is free and the moment is blessed, maybe it’s because perfection has been kindly asked to step aside.
And so, here’s a whole series of extras: the soundcheck, the backstage chatter, the mystical bouncer, the scruffy guy in the fourth row, voicemails, the guy who sneezes, Adrianne’s dog’s “bau bau”, the laughter, the rehearsal room, the tangles.
It’s a little chaos of moments caught in a net like butterflies, and I imagine it’s there to counterbalance the transcendence of the songs. It’s sweet to fly away, it’s sweet to return to earth.
And what can I say about the craft of piecing and collage? Recorded with different techniques, between low fidelity and something else, the sound is sometimes blurry, sometimes bright. Sometimes it hits you right in the face, other times you have to go look for it.
The transition between different techniques happens not just from one track to another, but sometimes even within the same song; the effect is a kind of vertigo or something similar to the colors on the cover.
It's a superimposition of parallel worlds: in one, it’s the girl with the cowboy hat singing, in another, it’s the young lady with a squirrel on her head.
To listen, and be moved, by the millions of emotional peaks present in the album, are, from time to time, the clouds outside the concert hall, the ghost on stage, or who knows who.
And so, with a final throw of the dice, we’re back to the beginning. Closing the circle is always a satisfaction.
Trallallà...
Tracklist
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