Colour Haze
Live @ Sabotage Bar (VI), 21/02/09 - "DeMeeting per facce da culo"

Maybe it's because I'm old and tired.
Maybe because I'm not the cheetah I used to be.
Maybe because Milanese people may well kill Saturday, but at least they can go see more or less any band, of more or less any musical genre, just 10 minutes from their baker's.

The fact of the matter is (I regret to admit it), until the last minute I was hesitant: driving 480 Km alone to see three Germans playing stoner in a rundown bar in Vicenza almost seemed to be too much...

There are things about this my first "Colour Haze Concert  -  DeMeeting for facce da culo" that I hope I won't easily forget:

• The sausage and porcini pizza with Azzo and Ole and the Azzo-compilations scattered on the back seat of the Azzo-mobile. Azzo teasing me because I bored the entire site with these Colour Haze. Ole telling me about when he met Bisius outside of school...;
• The Sabotage Bar, to which I want to offer my sincerest apologies for initially ridiculing it with a "...it's a dump!".
  Let's be clear: it's not the Plaza Hotel... Firstly, it's almost entirely red. And rough. There are two disco balls stuck in the ceiling side by side and a Louis XVI chandelier found in a bag of chips. The bathroom is papered with pages from suggestive manga, so while you're peeing, you even risk that Ercolino becomes barzotto resulting in self-sprinkling.
  But then you realize there's some good in it... A bunch of great people have played here (rectius: a bunch of the great people I like to listen to). There's no cover charge, no mandatory purchase, and no markups. And one of the girls behind the bar has beautiful big blue eyes. I don't know how to say: "Mom, I'm going out for a cup..." and with 4 euros I enjoy a beer and a concert by Orange Sunshine...
  Bravo Sabotage!!
• The two 24-carat golden lions with "pigeon blood" ruby eyes, guarding the bar counter.
  Beautiful. Yes, yes. Truly beautiful.
  Probably recovered from the bankruptcy auction of some Chinese restaurant, they add that radical chic touch often missing in "rock" venues. I'm sure that the Colour Haze also appreciated the style and fine craftsmanship;
• Azzo's jokes about the Underdogs (the band that opened the evening), which ranged from a concise "These guys got on my nerves even before they started...", to a ruthless "If they are supposed to play stoner, why does it sound like they're doing Motorhead covers?". Poor Underdogs...
• The IRS agent look of Philipp: almost immobile, nearly imperturbable while playing a bass that might weigh a few ounces less than he does. Watching him, he looks like a super nerd on vacation at Marina di Cecina: big glasses, thinning hairline, and a T-shirt tucked into his pants. I don't think he was the coolest kid in class, but he certainly inspires affection.
• Stefan playing barefoot. He has a big toe as large as my face. Between songs he mumbles something in a sort of Teutonic Esperanto, which to my untrained ears sounds like a mix of Krautish English and Junkyardese. All this without ever exceeding 15 decibels.
  Before the concert, the other debaserians and I probably handed him more money than the evening's fee and he thanks us shyly. I ventured to say: "I don't know if you remember me, a few months ago I bugged you for an interview... you know, five questions, stuff like this...". And he pretended to remember! Truly a golden guy!
• Manni's expressions. More than a drummer, an octopus with saboteur genius aspirations. More than an octopus, someone who seems to be on a journey of his own while playing. He divinely mistreats a drum kit that disappears in comparison to the ones of so many flashy drummers who won't even step on stage without 4 snares and 15 toms. Meanwhile, he unleashes a series of grimaces, funny faces, and frowns that crack up the audience. He goes from the strained and pained smile of a "Hiiii... this time I think I really overdid it with the chili!" to the funnel pout in the style of "Uhhh baby... don't stop!!". Spectacular.
• "Love". Always more or less my favorite Colour Haze song. Chosen by the band to close the concert. Heard from the front row, when quite a bit of the audience had already had enough, trying in vain to remember a lyric that just refuses to stick in my mind. Splendid.

The rest?
The rest are just trifles, little slips on an otherwise pristine underwear: a setlist centered too much on the more recent releases, an all in all devastating return trip, alternating between Marlboro and Morkobot records to keep me awake, a couple of horror-movie-like pit stops at Autogrill, and a canapé with white asparagus that seemed to plead: "Kill me... pleaseee" ...and then, maybe in hindsight, I would have ordered a Napoli with peppers...

...driving 480 Km alone to see three Germans playing stoner in a rundown bar in Vicenza almost seemed to be too much...
I believe that if Azzo and OleEinar weren't waiting for me, I would have given up.
And for this, I'm grateful to them.