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Rating: What took place last night in the city of Genova, more precisely at the Anglican Church of the Holy Spirit, was probably the concert event of the year for all neo-folk enthusiasts. It was in that location that the Fractured Europe Tour of Fire + Ice kicked off: an event made even more special by the fact that for this tour, the good Ian Read is accompanied by three gentlemen who answer to the names of Michael Moynihan, Annabel Lee, and Robert Ferbrache, in other words, Blood Axis in full swing (not exactly the last of the ragtag).
Due to the limits imposed by the characteristics of the location, the performance will be held very early (curfew strikes at midnight) and will be an exclusive privilege for only one hundred lucky souls (more than Ian Read & company can hope for, and indeed there was not a great rush to get in). Arriving slightly late for the evening's schedule (a total of three performances slated), the first joy of the evening presents itself unexpectedly in the figure of Ian Read himself, who we meet right outside the building: an Ian Read somewhat slowed down, to be honest, but not that haughty and elitist character we expected, considering he wasn't annoyed by the request to pose with us for a souvenir photo.
At these moments, I can't help but grin at the thought of those who last Sunday camped out since ten in the morning to queue outside the Circus Maximus to see, amid other tens of thousands of screaming people, those distant specks on the stage that were the Rolling Stones (true that the Rolling Stones are not Fire + Ice…). But beyond these senseless comparisons, my observation is just a way to convey the intimate atmosphere that was in the air, where in the small church there was cheerfulness, people were chatting, Blood Axis were roaming freely, and there was even a food and drink stall set up to raise funds for the church's restoration (in addition to the proverbial gothic black-dressed world, there were indeed people who seemed unrelated to Fire + Ice – elderly, children – probably attracted by the restoration's cause rather than the concert itself).
The evening is opened by Knotwork, which is nothing more than the three Blood Axis engaged in what seems like a passionate reinterpretation of traditional folk songs: all stuff that eerily resembles Brian Boru's March. More than anything, the project seems like a loving concession from the considerate Moynihan towards Lee, whose violin will dazzle tonight and around which everything else seems to be built. Lee, all smiles in her camouflage dress, is halfway between an unfortunate gym receptionist and a porn actress serenely on the way to dusk, and she goes hard with her violin while Ferbrache lazily backs her up with his guitar (not even perfectly in tune) and Moynihan, immersed in his arsenal of percussions, carves out some moments of protagonism by lending his voice to more than one track. Aside from a few flares here and there, the set becomes tiring over time (even though they might have played for a mere half-hour), and honestly, I sincerely hope the future of the Axis doesn't lie here (but while thinking this, I come to understand the inevitability of this sad conclusion, as the last piece announced by Moynihan is indeed a new Blood Axis track).
A quick stage change (though there wasn't a stage: our guys were crouched in the area in front of the apse, just adjacent to the pews where the audience sat) and it's time for the headliners Tears of Othila, a Ligurian quartet devoted to an archaic and pagan folk perfectly in line with the mood of the evening. The richer sound (guitar, accordion, violin, percussion, various voices) makes the set more compelling, and in a couple of crescendos breaks that monotony often found in this genre. Although our guys didn't shine for particularly original offerings, their performance is, all things considered, a more than decent appetizer for the main course of the evening.
Another short break and here come the three Blood Axis followed by the modest figure of Ian Read. Completely still, nailed to the microphone stand, arms hanging by his sides (and this for the whole performance, except when, between songs, he was forced to flip through the notebook on the lectern), Ian Read will captivate attention solely with the power of his singing, which is in truth more than singing, a suffering psalmody. In the semi-darkness, barely illuminated by low-intensity blue lights, in the utter silence of the mesmerized audience, his performance will suspend the passage of time, assuming the contours of an authentic ritual.
And he decides to kick off with a right hook to the unsuspecting listener's face: it's the mythical “Benediction”, a precious gift to all his fans, taken directly from the historic “Swastikas for Noddy” by Current 93 (the year was 1988). I say this for the unaware: although Fire + Ice are the least known among the pillar bands of apocalyptic folk, Ian Read can be rightfully considered one of the founding fathers of the genre, having been present in essential albums for the genre's affirmation/evolution (such as the aforementioned Current 93 album), and having played in the first albums of Sol Invictus. Also having pioneered a new trend (today among the most populated) with his Fire + Ice. You can then understand how this invocation is a truly magical moment for fans: Read's voice is perfect and the three companions stitch around it the perfect folk backdrop (the original version was sung a cappella). Follows the well-known arpeggio of “Dragon in the Sunset”, another super classic (from “Birdking”), which in itself makes us expect incredible emotions from the evening.
And expectations are fully met. The set will gradually be peppered with great classics from the entire Fire + Ice discography (particularly from the debut "Gilded by the Sun" and the cornerstone "Hollow Ways") like the poignant “Long Lankin’ and the beautiful “Lord of Secrets”, early tracks like “Corpus Christi”, or more recent ones like “Greyhead”, but always interpreted with great conviction. Frankly avoidable, in my opinion, is the obstinate re-proposal of a piece like “In the Rising of the Moon”, so cloying that every time I hear it, it makes me cringe. Among these, “Fractured Man” extracts gain extensive space: with Moynihan behind the xylophone, “Nimm” materializes, a lullaby originally played with the Sonne Hagal disciples; then follows the title track, completely rearranged in a folk guise (since the original version was just voice and harmonium) and the splendid “Treasure House”, an authentic instant classic, powerful ballad driven by Moynihan's percussions (even on drums during the chorus).
And also: the languid “Aelfsiden” (with Lee in the spotlight) and the reprise of the title track “Fractured Again” (in which at the end Moynihan launches into the counterpoint originally sung by Douglas Pearce on record). There is also room for some dive into pure folklore. Although the tracks tend to look alarmingly similar (helped, in this sense, by the relatively short performance time), the overall rendition is good. In particular, Lee's violin, which in other circumstances seemed insistently the same to me, tonight wonderfully captures the peculiar spirit of each individual piece. Even Ferbrache seems more engaged compared to the Knotwork performance, and Moynihan's hand percussions, sometimes solemn, sometimes driving, suitably complete the picture. It helps that they actively participated in crafting several tracks of the latest album (though they had already had opportunities to collaborate with the English master in the past).
“We are Fire and Ice”: with these words, Ian Read swiftly leaves the stage to return a moment later for the customary encore. And what an encore!, I add: before all of us, the mythical “Michael” is celebrated, directly from the Sol Invictus repertoire of the masterpiece “Trees in Winter” (1990), where Read practically sang half of the tracks. As with “Benediction”, one gets the impression of coming into contact with something momentous. And as with the other historic track, Blood Axis do an excellent job of arrangement by adding their own touch. The religious silence of the captivated audience speaks volumes. At this point, it is truly time for goodbyes.
Summing up, Ian Read managed to set up a captivating event, despite (or perhaps because of) the simplicity of the location and the scarcity of resources available. And he holds his own in comparison with his far more renowned apocalyptic colleagues in terms of on stage performance: where Douglas Pearce is like a hologram projected from another dimension, which ends up paying the price for an excessively monolithic and minimalist proposal; where David Tibet (seen several times, never fully convincing, I can't tell you why) has the bad habit of sacrificing classics in favor of the tracks of the album presented from time to time; where Tony Wakeford tends to disappear behind the charisma of his musicians, and Blood Axis bore you to tears with their long folkloric excursuses (totally renouncing their industrial past), Ian Read confirms himself as an honest and substantial artist, able to magnetize attention to himself by appearing in a T-shirt and without moving a finger, imposing himself armed only with his charisma (since his vocal abilities are what they are) and able to satisfy his fans with a balanced and intelligent setlist that knows how to blend present, recent past, and distant past.
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