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Rating: When the sun becomes a gentle caress on the splendid beach of Palm Beach, it's time to go. Since we left the hotel in the morning, we improvise a comical striptease in the Chevrolet, where the freshly washed tank tops are also drying. The night before, they were very "lived" and stained from the dinner we had at Denny's, the legendary American diner where you can eat at any time, and where a guy, also just back from the show, proudly shows us some splendid photos taken with a jewel of a camera. "Oh Japan, I love you!!!!!!!!" he exclaims with satisfaction, kissing his digital camera. With him is a bored tall woman, a lookalike of Naomi Campbell, who reads the menu with indifference. We arrive at the Sound Advice at 18.30 and we run into the chirping American woman again who desperately wants my shirt. We discover that she and her husband own a delightful restaurant-hotel in a seaside location on the Gulf of Mexico, where they invite us. But no deal, I am incorruptible. Also because we have already been to the Gulf of Mexico in the past few days… There are many more people compared to the previous night, especially there is a constant flow of Warehouse members with passes. This worries us because we know from experience that when there's a mess, it's difficult to get backstage. Rodrigo and Di arrive with our friend from the staff from the night before. Rodrigo gives me my camera, which I had handed to him to avoid further searches, and happily tells Zampa that tonight they will play Grey Street (he knows it's her favorite). While Zampa faints, he asks if we want to know the setlist or prefer the surprise effect. Of course we want to know it, he knows it by heart and shares it with us, a masterpiece after another, for our immense joy. He confirms that there is a big crowd. He himself goes in and out of the backstage intermittently. It seems like our chance from the day before has slipped away. Anyway, he hands us the pass kindly offered by a certain Victor, a staff member who Rodrigo says we absolutely must meet, and we enter the lounge. It's a delightful little setting, with soft lights and plush sofas where a rich buffet, with delicious food and drinks to access before, during, and especially after the show, stands out.
The staff greets us, smiling "ehy ladies!!!! enjoy the show". We feel like the guests of honor at the party!! The Americans in an orderly line for the drink and the buffet (never seen such orderly queues, everywhere, even to get into the bathroom) greet us curiously, some amazed. We are the only Italians and our shirts are literally a trophy. I have the "world champions" shirt (a phrase I will hear repeatedly at both shows) and the Texas hat (which I bought because I liked the color, but I will soon discover it belongs to the team that won the American football championship). Rodrigo is euphoric because Carter gave him his cell number. He tells us that he and Di have been on all the buses of our idols, except Boyd's, the only "diva" who will not even show up for a second backstage and will remain hermetically sealed with his friends in the bus. Each of them has a personal bus that seems like a house, with family and kids following along. Dave is there with his wife and the twins "Hi, I'm Dave Matthews," he says to Di, who melts and can't even reply. They are all of an extraordinary simplicity and proud to present their offspring (especially Carter). Leroi is the shyest. Rashawn is tender in his vastness. Even Butch is nice and disarming in his simplicity. Stefan, with his so anonymous face, won't even be recognized by Di while he is greeting her. Dave is sweet and affable. He apologizes in advance for his voice: the night before, after the show, they partied hard at the Four Seasons, but he promises he will scream. But it's Carter who is the real revelation: of overwhelming sympathy. According to Di, the funniest and sunniest person she has ever met. He regrets the lack of a world cup for Brazil and talks freely. In Tampa, Rodrigo gave the band various gifts: to Dave the Birmingham dvd, which is greeted with the happy wonder of an incredulous child (thanks to the cover … eh eh, it made quite an impression…. and the dedication: To DMB with love from Con-fusion, the Italian fan club, come back to Italy!!) but he doesn't let anything slip aside from repeating that he will definitely return to Europe, even with the band; to the band the dvd of the 3 steps, a Brazilian cover band (which will also be Rodrigo's gift for me), to Rashawn and Leroi what they specifically asked for from Brazil: the cachaca!! They explain that before the show no one drinks alcohol, except Dave, but the joints… those circulate greatly. . . Every time the magic backstage door opens, my heart skips a beat and I almost choke on what I'm nervously eating. And Rodrigo will try until the end to get us in, he is a delightful person with whom it was wonderful to share this exciting experience.
Meanwhile, the guy who reminds us of the Boss has finished the show and we rush to our section just as the crowd's roar welcomes the band. Our section tonight allows us a different view than the previous day, and I will realize that the stage, with its explosions of lights, videos, the footage of the full moon illuminating the palms, and the large screens, with the impeccable performance of the various band members, is truly a spectacle within a spectacle. We are all standing on the chairs and One Sweet World begins. Let's clarify one thing right away. Dave, at the beginning of the concert, also apologizes before the audience for his voice, promising that he will scream anyhow, but during the show, his defallance is only noticeable in One Sweet World, The Idea of You and Sister. Why? Sure, there's our blind and deaf emotion of being there, but it's not enough. Even others realized that Dave's voice wasn't at its best that night only after listening to the concert's recording. The explanation probably lies in the perfection of the sound technicians' work and the vocal setup during the show. Rodrigo had already explained to me that the Sound Advice naturally has excellent acoustics, but I have rarely attended a concert with such powerful and perfect sound. Even in the more intense tracks, when all the instruments come in dazzling and Dave's voice thunders hoarse and powerful as if some ancient and primal pain were torturing him to death, you can distinctly hear every nuance of the violin, the overwhelming cascade of the drums, the insistent horns, the guitar dialoguing with the rest of the music, the discreet and perfect bass. Not a smudge, but an articulate architecture of sounds that explode directly into your blood. This is precisely what happens in JTR and in Hunger For The Great Light which I will passionately love. Certainly, after giving his best, Dave's voice limps in The Idea of You, which is nonetheless a great dance live. Before us towers a banner with DMB Rock in WPB written on it, which is exactly what I think.
I love this animalistic energy, this tight, very rock rhythm. The wonderful Grey Street seems just like a gift: we got it in Birmingham and now with the whole band. And here comes Break Free, beautiful, it unleashes the crowd into an orgy of dances and delirious screams that will continue in Louisiana Bayou, a song I don't particularly love, but during which I was enchanted by the exploits of Carter, Boyd, Rashawn, and Leroi. The gorgeous Crash into Me needs no comments. At this point begins a crescendo starting from You Might Die Trying, passing through that other pearl which is Dancing Nancies, exploding in the overwhelming Can’t Stop (which in my opinion keeps improving), gifting me Jimi Thing (during which I risk crashing to the ground from the chair) but it's not enough, there are still So Much To Say, Too Much, Stay, relentless, insistent, blood, sweat, soul, and technique in what we declare the concert of our lives and which we are sure will never end. But then it does end, and after a short pause, Dave comes out alone, with his guitar. I say he's crazy, how does he think he can sing Sister at this point? He’s alone, without voice, just a whisper. His guitar is very sweet because Sister is beautiful, it's Dave to the core and I love him like this, disarming in his bare agony, just as I loved him in Some Devil. At this point I enter the tunnel of a piece that will remain inside me like a ticking time bomb. I don't know where it comes from, it captivates me, it's sinuous, and elegant, it's American Baby Intro being deservedly opened by the amazing Two Step, consecrating Carter to the undisputed God of drums and physical endurance, projecting us into the privileged Olympus of having witnessed the show of one of the greatest bands in the world.
Stunned, exhausted by the emotion, incredulous, we head to the lounge because even the work of the fans is very hard and makes you thirsty. The buses, honking and illuminated, greet us, it's THEY who are leaving. While waiting for Rodrigo and Di to bid them farewell, a guy dressed in black approaches with a stern but amused air, abruptly asking what we want. I don't understand if he's joking or what, and Zampa defensively asks what the problem is. He bursts out laughing and asks which part of Italy we come from and tells us that he lived in Milan for 8 years, ah, good times. I ask if he is Victor and he replies that he is Areas… . Areas who? Rudy Areas, official photographer of the DMB…. oh my god!! We chat a bit, and I tell him we are waiting for Rodrigo because we are leaving, so our friend goes to fetch him, kisses, hugs, and goodbye. Yes, goodbye DMB!!!!
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