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Rating: Story of violence, sweat, and...shyness.
I arrive in a Trento with tropical humidity shortly after 7 PM. There was a storm, and the water is evaporating from the asphalt, creating unbearable heat. I am in front of a small house hidden by trees; this is where the concert will take place. I am way too early, as usual. There's no one around yet, just a few guys going back and forth to carry equipment from their van into the room. They are the Birds In Row. I approach, recognize Bart, the band leader, and overcoming my exaggerated shyness, I ask if I can help them in any way. Mercì, he says smiling. I carry in mic stands, a stool for the drummer, a small amplifier.
The two guys who organized the evening have brought food and water, so I eat with them and both guest bands. The Iron, all Swedish blonde and tattooed, are friendly, laughing and joking with us. The Birds In Row, French and more reserved, tell us about their upcoming stops in Germany and their first time in Asia, in a few weeks. I ask Bart about the new record, and once again pushing back my shyness, I tell him I can't wait to hear something new. Bart smiles at me again while eating his cous-cous. With his hand, he gestures "be patient." We're working on it, we're perfectionists and we want the new tracks to be perfect. We'll let you know soon, he says. Whether his "soon" means 10 days or 2 years, I didn't understand, and maybe he doesn't know yet either. All we have to do is wait.
Shortly before 8, people start to arrive. The room fills up quickly, there are seventy, eighty people at most. A guy with a shy and almost awkward look stands in front of us all, with an acoustic guitar. His name is Quentin Sauvé, the new bassist of Birds In Row. I'm playing my songs live for the first time here tonight, he says, a bit embarrassed. And he starts to sing. They are three magnificent acoustic songs, sweet and angry at the same time. They are very personal and introspective tracks, they talk about him, and he plays them with passion and chilling strength. Everyone applauds at the end, he thanks and leaves, as shyly as he arrived.
The Iron's show is fiery. Old-school hardcore blending with screamo. Violence and deeply profound lyrics touching on topics like sexual discrimination, politics, the harsh modern society. The singer, Thomas Rosén, emits a power that violently impacts us as we listen around him. These Iron are good, and in the half-hour they play, everyone feels they have talent, they know what they're doing. Exhausted and drenched, the singer (in underwear the whole time) thanks us in Italian, saying we were amazing.
Time to catch a breath of fresh air and slightly dry the drenched shirts, and here comes the moment we've all been waiting for. The Birds In Row live performance. They start with "Pilori", now a classic. When the "bastard, fucking bastard!!" arrives, everyone shouts it in chorus, and start moshing. As usual, I'm there observing, wondering whether to throw myself into the fray or stay aside. Damn shyness. I jump in, leap onto others who leap onto me, push and have fun like I haven't in a long time. With "There Is Only One Chair In This Room" and "Cages", two brutal and beautiful tracks from their 2012 album "You, Me & The Violence", the room seems to explode. Sweat, stage diving, frantic rhythm and deadly heat. Then come the epic "Colossus" (perhaps my absolute favorite track of the band) and the following "Word Of Astaroth", which make the walls of the room and even the surrounding houses shake. A bomb. Now there are two new tracks, and everyone stops to listen, we're excited, happy to hear them. And as expected, they are beautiful. I don't remember the titles, I don't remember the words (the acoustics weren't the best), but I assure you they were two amazing tracks. When they're released on record, we'll be licking our chops. Before concluding, there's still room for shivers, for strong emotions. "A Kid Called Dreamer" is performed to perfection, wonderful and evocative. And then, before heading home, comes another classic, another bomb: "You, Me & The Violence", which we all sing together, shouting as loud as we can.
Sweaty, tired, with ringing ears. That's how we left. It was a very small concert, in a hidden and unknown place, but it was one of the most beautiful concerts I've attended. I brought out my true self, felt free, felt myself. And I returned home with a smile plastered on my face.
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