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Rating: An afternoon with a high alcohol rate, ridiculous Serie A matches, a strong desire to do something fun during the last Sunday of November. At that point, the only choice was to risk the improbable attraction of the evening, given the lack of… "affections". "Cradle Of Filth are at the Alcatraz," my Sunday mishaps companion tells me. I already knew it, probably had it dug into my subconscious... deep down I wanted to go, but after the repeated live disappointments the English had given me, I thought it was better to let it go. Meanwhile, the other kept insisting, insisting, insisting that in the end, I was convinced: let's go destroy the last shreds of the myth of COF that I had left. And yes, these filthy crowd charmers used to appeal to me so much; with a bit of common sense and not being a purist of any music genre, I had managed to get involved in their showy records steeped in Grand Guignol, funerals, and bloody sexual relations. "Let's go..." I say to my friend, and in no time, we're in the car with Whitesnake blasting (Why Whitesnake, though?), and the hard drinking starts to be felt.
Now we're at the Alcatraz, and the show on stage B (also known as terrible acoustics) is already live. On stage, playing the part of our local Motley Crue, are the Deathstars. I only knew some of their songs... what to say... shaved pubes posers with the usual Manson-esque antics. These guys have cat eyes that pierce the smoky darkness of the venue and a thousand moves to make, but ultimately, they are stars in forty minutes of well-played yet utterly anonymous music. If someone had told me they were the Kovenant or someone else in that glam, electronic, and industrial tinged metal vein, I would have believed it. The acoustics definitely didn't help them much, but the Scandinavians entertained the not-so-few who knew their most famous tracks inside out (I only recognized Blitzkrieg and Synthetic Generation). Overall, a good performance (if I'm being objective) that personally didn't thrill me since I was just refueling on beer before the moment I was eagerly and fearfully awaiting.
The break between the Deathstars' performance and the Cradle show is brief, just long enough for the techs to adjust something and for people to go smoke a cigarette in the smoking area while the lights in the "parterre" are on, to at least keep it somewhat clean face since smoking was heavy during performances. The crowd deserves a brief consideration: there was a bit of everything. Me, my friend, metalheads, vampires, goths, "normal" people, and some really scantily dressed girls, especially one with a thong across her backside and firm, bare breasts covered with black tape on the nipples. Let's get back to (or in?) us.
The stage set is really papier-mâché... poorly done and honestly avoidable: two leafless trees next to the elevated drum kit and some scattered plants here and there. On the wall behind the band, video projected COF images and logos dominate. The first to enter to the orchestral notes introducing Thornography is the drummer (probably a session man) who I don't know who he is, but he looks terribly like Nicholas with a few pounds less. Then gradually, the lineup comes together, and the concert begins. At the starting line, COF screech in and wheelie into Dirge Inferno, the opener of their latest (and bad) work, which manifests live in all its thrashy might. The guys hit hard: Dani finally sings properly by yelling, growling, rasping (if you will allow me the term), and the drummer is simply amazing, just imagine having a real panzer playing the drums. The rest of the group is clad in black leather and zippers everywhere, shaking their hair and screeching their stringed instruments. The female component is there and noticeable, mainly for her musical production and vocal contribution (for the lucky!). When the first song ends, the audience is already thrilled, and I start thinking maybe, for once, these much-maligned beings in front of me might provide a decent performance. But I don't want to delude myself, so I wait to see if it's time to unleash or not. Tonight In Flames is one of the new tracks that left me more puzzled, but it also sounds good live and is enjoyable. Sure, that Chihuahua of Dani singing with a clean voice is a bit comical, but overall acceptable. The song's execution is almost perfect, so I seriously start to warm up. Subsequently, unfortunately, I don't remember well in which order the band presents I Am The Thorn, a song that brings me back to a more Filthy dimension of understanding music, and Under Huntress Moon, both masterfully performed with the whole band in excellent sync. Dani goes all out (euphemism!) and gives everything he can (a lot) to the Italian audience, and for once, he seems like a real singer: humble, experienced, on stage for his pleasure and the fans, as well as to challenge himself. He and that sort of strange animal at nocturnal pulse earn the prize for headliners of the evening.
At a certain point, the singer almost looks at us angrily... I understand that something beautiful is about to happen... Dani demands a mosh pit, it's clear he wants it... we're all here already sweaty even though we've moved little but ready to give life to a small gate to hell. At this point, COF and the audience are in perfect sync. Dusk And Her Embrace starts, and the parterre becomes a volcano in eruption. Finally, some good old stuff, finally Dani becomes what my parents used to call a monster when I was a teenager, finally, it's possible to scream at the top of one's lungs the words of a song. From here on, the concert becomes pleasure, sweat, and a desire to have fun. The guitarists are there with stone faces, but deep down, I see them chuckling under the (slight) face painting because they are amused by the popular uprising generated right under their eyes. We are one on top of another, one beneath another... unfortunately, it's not sex, but when The Forest Whispers My Name starts, the feeling is still amazing. Drunk like few times, but still able to understand and want, I'm in the middle of the crowd, listening to my favorite COF track, performed great (which was practically a constant) and receiving only approvals. Incredible... I think about it for a moment, and I realize Dani hasn't missed a single bottle! It's also true there's not a large audience, so there must have only been COF fanatics.
Glided Cunt and Nymphetamine are almost, how to say, interpreted by the audience in their own way, and deeply felt by the on-stage ensemble. There is also space for Temptation, chronologically played before these but just crossed my mind now. I can't stand it when presented like this, but apparently, the kids like it anyway. In any case, it's the lowest point of the evening. I probably smoked during it.
So, one way or another, the fake exit of the group arrives, and up to here, everything's okay, everyone happy and everyone expecting something more. The fact is that much more arrives! Chtulhu Dawn is genuinely played in a way that earns "10 minutes of nonstop applause". People go crazy, the audience is a constantly moving fluid, and you can find yourself on one side of the stage or the other without knowing how you got there. Then Dani announces the evening's last track: From The Cradle To Enslave. Everyone here gave their best: COF finished the track with all muscles tense and veins on the neck, we surely must have given them a mad desire to return to play on Italian soil. In the end, the band disappears in a flash, and among us, there are only smiles, burps, and gestures of approval.
Fundamentally, those who love them and weren't there, really missed something. Luckily, I didn't lose anything; this time I still had my wallet with documents and money.
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