Ben Harper
Live a Milano, 15 Ottobre 2006

There are things in life that you feel belong to you, things you feel you have to do even if the people around you can't understand them, even if they think your reasons are invalid. They are things so inherently yours that you can't find the words to explain them to others.
Or maybe it's me who can't find the words to describe my feelings. Feelings that I increasingly struggle to keep inside. To protect them, to protect myself. It's Sunday morning and I'm leaving for Milan on my scooter. It's funny this thing. As I look in the mirror, I see my hair blowing against the blue sky. Not a cloud, not even inside me. I have my black backpack on my shoulders, inside my camera, three batteries, and the small camera, just in case. Then in the bag, little things, a sweater, and the nightshirt with sheep.
The toothbrush. A little book for the train journey and my small notebooks.
I board the train and in no time, I'm in Florence. I wait while eating a sandwich that miraculously doesn't stain me, and then I'm on the train to Milan. Me, a small square among so many others.
I can't tell you about the landscape, I lose myself in the people surrounding me, imagining their stories. I look at their eyes, reading happiness, joy, tiredness.
This journey is beautiful because I have in mind the story of Konrad traveling to Pistoia. And I have in mind that evening in Pistoia, which months later still has a very sweet taste.
An evening where feelings can come to the surface without fear of being trampled upon. I arrive in Milan, find my hotel, and then head to the Forum. On the metro, it's enough to look around to understand who will be coming with me. I join two guys and another who is alone. I can't tell you about the journey from Famagosta to the Forum, but I can describe the eyes of the people who, like me, were on that bus. Their smiles and their balancing acts at every curve. That air of expectation, that happiness that beautiful events yet to happen give you.
Those sparks in their eyes must have been similar to mine. At least I hope so.
I arrive, eat something amidst the general chaos, and then I enter.
I reach my seat and am terribly disappointed. I'm in front of the poles holding the speakers. I curse for a long time and then move higher up to some free seats. The view is still awful. I get mad at Ticketone, but not too much because I see him enter and the concert begins. He gets on stage, and I nearly have a heart attack. He's wearing a black shirt and jeans. He is breathtakingly handsome.
As if that weren't enough, they start playing, and the first three songs are incredibly intense. I can barely breathe, I turn on the camera and start shooting and singing. It starts with With My Own Two Hands. . A version pushed to the max. I can't stay still. Not even time to catch my breath, he rests the guitar on his legs and starts Faded  The lights shift from yellow to orange, and I'm hypnotized by his hands moving swiftly with the pick. I keep watching him with the zoom at maximum. I don't let him go for a second.
At the end of Diamonds On The Inside I'm incredulous. I want to shake the person next to me and say, "Do you also realize what's happening??? Or is it just my hallucination????" The concert continues to grow. It's time for Both Sides Of The Gun, Please Don't Talk About Murder While I'm Eating and Steal My Kisses everyone from the group is on stage with a spectacular Juan Nelson playing the bass in an incredible way [come up with a compliment because the best one I know doesn't express anything when talking about him...] And he sings! His voice is deeper than the Bass! Fantastic! The air is purple, the hands of the audience are all raised. I'm up high, and the view of the lights on the audience still gives me chills. We are lost. Completely taken. He picks up the classic guitar to give us a sweet pearl Waiting For You. . Words and dreams mix as I watch him play. The contrast between the orange guitar and his black shirt is beautiful. The color of the lights doesn't alter the contrast. . . almost candlelight on him with purple shades in the background. He switches back to the slide and starts Morning Yearning. I'm about to faint.
I can't dance, can't move. I scream and shoot. Scream and Shoot. He lets us sing, talks to us, apologizes for not knowing our language. He says he will learn. . He starts a version of Burn One Down which ends with Leon Mobley's show. To call him an excellent percussionist is a huge understatement. He's a God. Simply. The set ends with Black Rain . When he leaves the stage, I turn to my neighbor and say: I want him to play for at least another 3-4 hours. But we are utterly unprepared for what's about to happen.
He returns to the stage after a few minutes for the acoustic set. He's alone on stage, sits down, and with the classic guitar starts Another Lonely Day , wonderful and so sweet there's a blue twilight, the audience sings softly. Walk Away begins, the light turns into the sun, I remain entranced by a reflection I see on his guitar, trying in vain to capture it. He's still seated, almost gathered. Like in your living room on those evenings when you talk softly. . . When love is intense, a thing like that. Then he starts with Lifeline, I've never heard it. I'm stunned, trying to understand what it is. I convince myself it must be his. Then he plays one of the songs that most moves me There Will Be A Light Acoustic.
The audience is in delirium, and he, visibly moved, says that he has always dreamed, since he was a child, of being able to sing this song in front of an audience that sang it with him. And then the others arrive, and Where Could I Go starts. Goosebumps rise. I know he loves this song very much. . I have the memory of how he sang it in Pistoia. . . but nothing can prepare me for what will come. . After the first verse, the amplification of the instruments is inexplicably lowered, and he moves to the edge of the stage. He begins to move his hands. . asks for silence. Slowly, the voices in the arena lower, the music plays softly, and he starts singing without a microphone. He sings with intensity. And the people fall even quieter. It's fantastic. He's alone, singing, spreading his voice, and everything else stops for him. Not even hearts beat anymore to avoid making noise. Some applause is erased by his hands, and most of the audience listens in religious silence.
And he gives of himself, to the fullest. I struggle to breathe. I've taken 640 photos in two and a half hours... of these moments, there are two photos. I don't even realize I'm immobile. He finishes the verse, returns to the microphone, and the arena explodes.
People nearly peel their hands from clapping so much. The song ends, and then he remains standing on stage with his hands by his sides. Still. Looking at us. Still. And the audience applauds him for several minutes, going wild.
I can't describe the joy of these moments in a rational way.
It's like one of those children's drawings where there are only the colored lines of the pencils, with the colors blending, and everything is confusion. Where everything merges.
Something very mystical, very strange, quite beautiful. They leave the stage again and return with Get Up, Stand Up. The green light floods the audience, and even those in the bleachers stand up and dance. The concert ends with Better Way. . a heart-stopping version where the audience sings the chorus a million times. He dances and jumps across the stage, singing, pointing at people in the audience "i believe in you, you , you, you. . " A Fantastic concert. They all gather in the center and let themselves be photographed while they wave goodbye. But the best thing is yet to come. . The best thing of all is something that only a few could see. After such a concert, where the audience elevated him to the level of a God, he is the first to leave the stage, approaches the steps where his wife is holding their son. In that few steps of the journey, he sheds his divine robe. He reaches the child, kisses him on the head, and picks him up. I have the vision of those little legs swinging beside his thighs as he goes down the stairs and that little head resting on his shoulder. They are quick gestures that highlight the value of a person who has given so much and knows how to give so much. And I will tell you more. I reflected a lot on Where Could I Go, on his remaining still at the end of that song. At the moment, I naively believed it was the first time he had done such a thing. Instead, by documenting myself, I discovered that even before the summer, he had started doing it and had done it in past years. I've seen a lot of footage where he sings that song in that way, and the result is always the same. At the end of the verse, people go mad. If you analyze it superficially, you might mistake this as a quest for popularity, you might mistake it for a demonstration of vanity.
But if you analyze it with your brain, observing what he does, you understand that he doesn't do it for himself. He does it for his audience, he does it because he loves to give. He knows because he loves that crazy joy he can give. And you may ask: "But how do you know? How can you be sure?" I will answer: "I would bet my liver. . You see it from the way he looks at us. In those moments, he tells you thank you for understanding and for rejoicing with Him. "