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Rating: July 28, 2008. Arena di Verona. 9:03 PM
After delighting the impatient audience with traditional Japanese music, trip hop tracks, and quirky rock pieces, finally my favorite Icelandic girl is punctually up on stage, preceded by her Icelandic brass band.
Dressed in a golden gown with teased hair, Bjork begins to prance to the notes of the swirling "Earth Intruders". The stage radiates with lights and colors.
The audience is in a frenzy, abandoning their seats to dance wildly and perhaps insult the security official urging them to sit back down.
But how can one stay still when after "Earth Intruders" the splendid Icelandic musician dishes out "Hunter" in a new and extraordinary charismatic guise?
Sensual and morbid, Miss Gudmundsdottir whispers and sends shivers down the spine.
Everyone is hypnotized; some dance, others scream, some applaud. Astonishingly magnificent.
And after the darkness, comes the light with "Pagan Poetry," a caress of seductive clarity. The singing becomes subdued and airy. But it is with the new guise of "Desired Constellation" that Bjork leaves one breathless: completely dismantling the album's original and filling it with beats and electronic effects. A truly superb interpretation.
An unexpected medley between "All Is Full Of Love" and "Domestica" is dreamy, expansive, and ethereal, yet piercing at the same time. Mark Bell's clever beats ignite like innocent time bombs ready to explode.
The brass band becomes truly noteworthy in the splendid "Jòga", successfully replacing the marvelous strings that lent the pearl of intensity to the version enclosed in "Homogenic". The rhythms are Icelandic volcanoes ready to erupt and skillfully blend with the strings, as if the song had transformed into a genuine and compelling sonic puzzle. They erupt with fervor and leave one breathless. Rhythms are skillfully woven on which Bjork delivers an incredible vocal performance, as if she were a chest of secrets.
The audience is enchanted.
"Vertebrae By Vertebrae" is devastating, apocalyptic, splendid. One of the best songs of "Volta" is made even more powerful live, with the strings rising in crescendo. Bjork is muted, and her voice is tense like a violin string.
"THE BEAST IS BACK!"
"Overture" breaks the unease of the previous piece and proves to be truly moving. Vincent Mendoza is missed, it’s true, but the Icelandic brass renders the piece more naive and seductive.
And if "Overture" is an instrumental rich with grace and passion, Bjork slaps you with a kamikaze version of "Army Of Me": even more fierce and furious than "Post," it's an explosion of rhythms from another world, upon which the girl tests her vocal prowess and discovers it untamable. Exciting and masochistic at the same time.
An unexpected much calmer version of the heavily contaminated "I Miss You," presented as if it were an elegant piece teetering between trip hop and lounge, without falling into the gallows of the intellectual.
The surprise is "Cover Me": more alien and cryptic than the original. Bjork proves to be a child in a woman's body and prances across the stage like a tigress. Delightful.
"Wanderlust": unmissable. It isn’t dismantled and reassembled, but presented as it is on "Volta," without disappointment. Bjork is a nightingale ravaged by the galloping Autechre-like rhythms of Mark Bell.
But the masterpiece of the concert is another: "Hyperballad," completely transformed into a heart-wrenching explosion of ferocious and skilled rhythms. The elf invites the audience to sing and bursts into laughter, bringing much tenderness.
And so at the end of the piece, the Arena di Verona has turned into a rave party.
Bjork dances like a possessed being, while Mark Bell unleashes shards of sound that make the audience dance to the point of fainting. Fantastic, Breathtaking.
But it’s not over: dance continues in "Pluto," even more extreme than the original. Reaching the peak of hardcore, and the audience appreciates… and greatly!
It's time for introductions: "My Italian stinks..." smiles the little Icelandic with shyness and naivety while introducing her musicians.
Well... at least "Grazie" and "Buona Sera" she can say perfectly, or almost.
It can't be over, it can't be over so soon.
In fact, fortunately, it’s not over yet.
Bjork gives fans two more gems: a subdued version of "Anchor Song" revisited with soft emotions and a faint voice, half in English and half in Icelandic. The brass chase the voice of the eternal Icelandic child and intertwine around it.
Pure emotion, which explodes into the sound violence of "Declare Independence." Confetti is shot towards the audience, who let themselves go into the wildest dances.
Then everything ends.
And Bjork disappears as quickly as she had hopped onto the stage, immediately after a loud "Graziaaaaaaaa," celebrated with the thunderous applause of those present.
Short, but intense.
Bjork never ceases to amaze.
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