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Rating: That Chris Martin has called Arcade Fire the best band on the planet, as has been emblazoned for months on the event's website, we couldn’t care less. What matters to us is finally seeing them live, after missing their Italian debut two years ago due to an ill-fated clash with an even more ill-fated Milan-Liverpool. And considering that the album from that tour was called "Funeral," it was a serious case of jinxing. This time it’s all smooth: Milan-Liverpool went great, no overlap with other events, nothing to shoo away bad luck. Arcade Fire in Ferrara, period.
The stage is set in the declining and cobbled Piazza Castello, in front of the Estense Castle. A mention for the supporting group: A Classic Education from Bologna. Our own Maximo Park/Franz Ferdinand. Very British. Also worth mentioning is the audience (numerous, but not filling the square): Italians from everywhere, scarcely Americanized, scarcely touristy.
Arcade Fire starts at ten, the same number as the members on stage. The backdrop is a huge burgundy curtain, very theatrical. On the left, behind the raised position of the organist, there is an installation resembling a church organ. Five small screens are distributed along the stage: various perspectives of the concert and other delights will be projected on them. In the background, the neon bible of the latest album stands out in red. In front, six phosphorescent mega candles divide the audience from the band. A very church-like scene: God is a dj and the dj is Win Butler. Actually, no deification: the show is preceded by the projection of images of a child-preacher intent on indoctrinating a huge crowd. Meaning: don’t be the sheep-like crowd. It’s hard to tell an audience that came here for you. Just as it is to sing "My Body Is A Cage" in front of people celebrating you: "I’m standing in a stage of fear and self-doubt, it’s a hollow play but they'll clap anyway". Does it make sense? Maybe yes.
The fact is that the Canadians have released two diametrically opposed albums. While the first is colorful, festive, sparkling, extroverted, the second is gloomy, autistic, compunctious, darkened. It’s hard to juxtapose the two styles on the same stage, and it goes without saying that tonight the second has the upper hand. It begins with "Keep The Car Running", with Régine on the hurdy-gurdy. The instruments used by the band are the most unlikely. The changes and replacements are hard to follow: everyone plays everything, with the exception of the two faithful violinists. In three songs, Régine plays the drums (?). Among these, "Ocean Of Noise" is the most intimate and dark. One of the most abysmal moments.
The first part gives much space to the new album, which is played in its entirety except for "Windowsill". Standouts, I’d say, a nearly whispered "Neon Bible", a truly epic "Intervention", and a chilling "(Antichrist Television Blues)", with the same lightning and engulfing finale as the album. The pieces from "Funeral" are distributed here and there, more densely in the second part: immediately "Haiti", with ample space for the audience choruses, "Laika", and the great classics: "Tunnels", with a disco-Régine on drums, and at the end, joined together in the most exhilarating phase of the concert, "Power Out" and "Rebellion". Encore with "My Body Is A Cage" and "Wake Out".
Butler's voice, which on the record seems more insecure than Régine's, actually comes through much more live. Régine often gets lost and literally needs a megaphone to break through the mass of instruments. It's the only flaw, I’d say: often submerged voice. As for the musicians, nothing to say. Standing out is the wild red-haired guitarist Richard Parry, who occasionally plays a re-painted silver double bass. During "Laika" he starts playing a helmet (?), beating it with sticks for a couple of minutes with utmost conviction but away from the microphones. Anarchic in his way.
Two other small considerations: sober the relationship with the public, neonbible-style. Few words between one piece and another. Butler declares that the verse "Don’t lick your fingers when you turn the page" in "Neon Bible" is taken from a passage by Umberto Eco. The literate indie is amazed. Régine declares her love for Ferrara, visited the day before with the concert organizers. Perhaps customary words, perhaps not: the city is really beautiful, and the location is without doubt as suggestive as few.
Last thing: it's worth enjoying the soundcheck show as well. Nice, around six, to catch Win and the redhead improvising "Personal Jesus", with the redhead doing percussion on the silver double bass. A gem. Also because the square was still open, and more than a few old folks from Ferrara stopped by, watching curiously and asking who those young lads were to the few scattered followers. To an unwittingly indie old man with a striped polo shirt, a girl confidently responds: an American band (and Arcade’s spines must have been chilled with horror). And he, with a marked local accent: ah, they're too difficult to pronounce. Ferrara pride and spirit. The old man stayed there a bit, then got back on his bike and who knows where he went: to Chris Martin, maybe, to tell him he was right?
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