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Rating: Nobody wanted to come with us to the Bright Eyes concert, which seems to be unknown in the desolate province of Pavia. But we stood firm on our positions, and so on Thursday afternoon at three, I went to pick up my faithful companion in arms, Sheva.
In no time, we're on the blazing and heavily trafficked asphalt path that is the A21. In a couple of hours, we see Moncalieri, Lingotto, the automobile museum we visited on our third-grade trip, and the Mole Antonelliana passing by our windows. First, we head to Via Germansca number 12 to raid a little shop full of interesting CDs and LPs.
We park at the edge of Via Ciglia with the intention of walking a bit around the city and reaching the venue where they'll be playing by nine. Unfortunately, we discover only after three kilometers that Via Ciglia is the longest in Turin, and we've parked on the opposite side of where the venue is located.
Depressed, we return to the car at half-past seven, and after a pizza, a gelato, and a beer (in that order), we reach the concert area in time to see The Faint, Conor's first band.
These Omahans impressed us quite a bit with their compelling and dance-inducing live performance; they play classic new wave revival with electronics tending towards techno and very glam attitudes.
After their show, we roam around the concert area and coincidentally meet the owner of the little shop from the afternoon who, imperialistically, continues his work under a gazebo. We drink a poorly poured beer and laugh at the sight of the stage technician with his plumber's crack showing.
Conor's show begins with him appearing on stage after the inevitable intros that characterize all his CDs, looking pale and a bit dazed.
The current Bright Eyes tour is to promote his somewhat electronic-ambient album Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, which I never bought or heard since I couldn't imagine him dealing with electronics. The sound's solidity and compactness made me change my mind in a few minutes. Conor manages to impress as he knows how, even though he has to split himself among his voice and occasionally the guitar (with good results). Doubts disappear, and emotions start to overflow overflow overflow without being easily contained. Seeing Conor flail about and sing at the top of his lungs like a madman fills me with joy because I see that someone manages to win people over with style.
The electronics do not staticize the expression of the Bright Eyes' spleen, which, thanks to the projection of naïve videos on two large screens behind him, greatly stimulates the imagination of those present.
After regaining my senses, I look around and see a light blue gay-looking T-shirt with "Debaser" written in red; feeling quite upbeat, I wait for a break (which, to be fair, Conor only takes at the end) to go and meet the debaser fan who turns out to be Magomarcelo in the company of Josi who was incognito. We chat for a moment before Conor returns with the only song I know from the evening, "Lover I Don't Have to Love".
Conor greets us and thanks us for being here. We all had fun.
I didn't buy the album only because I didn't want to break the fifty-euro bill.
We fill the last minutes of this welcome and unexpected de-meeting discussing Milan, the fact that there is nothing interesting compared to much smaller Turin. We arrive at the car (this time parked a meter from the entrance), say our polite goodbyes, and prepare for the return home.
Fortunately, 5 km before my exit, two friendly and lively truck drivers decide to give each other a mutual caress with their trucks just a minute before I pass by. The result is a three-and-a-half-hour traffic jam that meant I got home at seven in the morning.
3 and a half hours with nothing to do. I would have done well to break that fifty euro.
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