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Rating: It's really true, surprise and improvisation often create magical and unforgettable moments.
On Friday afternoon, the DeChat was on fire for a few hours, organizing a meeting that until that day had been anything but a meeting, merely a "I'm coming to the concert too, I'll pick you up at nine, then the two crazy ones are waiting for us there."
Amid unexpected entries, juggling train schedules and potential bed providers on which to let first one and then two small tired and defenseless bodies rest the following night, around six in the evening, the plan finally seems drawn up, early to bed, a long night awaits me the next day.
I arrive first at the Padua station around seven-thirty on Saturday where I await the little Li in studded and booted version, decidedly very "seSSy" (as my grandmother would say), followed by my two favorite giants, aunt VV and uncle Rocky who even brings me a much-appreciated gift.
Shortly after, while we're at the station bar inaugurating the evening with a shot, the lively and ravenous Ju also appears on a slightly delayed train, and for all of them, a glance is enough to understand that I won't be disappointed by this meeting.
The evening begins with the arrival in Bassano thanks to my infallible "Paduan" personal navigator borrowed for a while from aunt's arms. After sandwiches, chips, "special" beers, and decidedly hot olive ascolane, the two mad ones who will guide us to the destination join us, namely nephew n°1 Muuuuun and our handsome blond "fuckin' Gwen".
It feels like we're in a rally between woods and hills as I follow the cousin's black Punto, seemingly very excited tonight given the rush he's in, and right there, between trees and narrow roads, awaits the mysterious Shindy, a lost two-story villa transformed into a small and dark disco with a vaguely seventies and Indian look. Ju and I begin to worry about the fate of a very sincere Li who blurts out "But don't you have a name?" to a nice friend of Mun who claims to be named Dimitri, poor guy!
Among candles, incense scent, sofas, and Persian rugs, it was the last place I imagined seeing a stoner concert. Few people, little light, small stage, damn small venue but in compensation very high bar prices, but we're not scared, for an event like this it's definitely worth making some sacrifices, soon everyone has their drink.
Around twelve-thirty, the DJ turns off the music, and the useless and boring "The Forty Moostacy" (is that their name? Bah, it doesn't matter!) take the stage. The local trio offers simple rock with an air of "already heard" made of long repetitive and predictable strides, with a voice often yelled almost "rapped," downright annoying. The number of people in front of the stage seems to increase as minutes pass and, surprisingly, when the bland support band finally stops playing, the venue slowly empties out until the "much-anticipated" High On Fire arrive, a band that definitely would have deserved something more tonight both in terms of audience and venue.
As everyone expected, in fact, from the first guitar chord you understand that the room where we are doesn't allow Matt and company to perform at their best, the three instruments blend into a single distorted sound that becomes almost incomprehensible to those who don't know their songs, the voice is too low and struggles to be heard amidst all the confusion our guys create. Even though I don't know much about their albums, I can appreciate the show realizing I'm in front of a monster named Matt Pike, one of the founders of the term "stoner" during the now-gone Sleep times, a distinguished musician who offers pure power with his Les Paul and some really goosebump-inducing riffs, who however, as VV rightly pointed out to me, is losing his hair!
The cheerful rabble seems to be having fun, I engage in some healthy pogo along with the launched Mun and Gwen in front of the stage together with a few other possessed ones like us, the rest of the people just watch and listen to the concert from a further distance, little June meanwhile waits for the end of the frenzy sitting aside and is soon joined by Li devoted to the sweeter and cleaner sound of Power. The show, apart from the inevitable audio problem, proceeds powerful and entertaining for a while, then as often happens, the idiot of the moment, one of the demons in front there, dirty, sweaty, smelly, with long, thick, and heavy dreadlocks and with a "boiler" instead of a girlfriend to keep him company, starts swinging more and more violently around, annoying and pushing the spectators standing behind him several times, among them a very angry aunt VV with wide eyes promising blood and revenge by the end of the concert, which unfortunately then won't happen.... damn!!
The whole thing lasts about three-quarters of an hour, resulting in a short but intense and engaging show where tracks from all three of their albums were presented, the most appreciated by the faithful were certainly those from the first, very dirty and distorted "The Art of Self Defense."
Just after High finishes playing, the DJ immediately puts on some disco music and in the blink of an eye, the venue is full of posers looking at us "rockers" with bewildered faces as if to ask what we're doing there, what an ambiguous venue.... Of course, there are the ritual t-shirts, someone tries to get a discount from the vendor by all possible means but fails, our skilled English speakers even manage to exchange a few words with Matt outside the venue, who is also sorry for the show offered by the cursed rasta.
The night continues inside and outside the venue, but especially in my car, chatting, smoking a few "butts" (right Mun? inside the car!!), listening to something, eating the famous "pod sandwiches," and having a blast. Rocky even manages to snag the much-loved concert poster with the winged demon on it, making fun of security with the help of lookout-June, I missed the scene! Too bad, what a couple....
The hours fly by, my expectations are met, everyone I met turned out to be unique and special people. The same "characters" I previously knew virtually through chats and posts, but now finally have a face, a voice, a real name, I can listen to music with them, pogo, laugh, I can hug them... all truly fantastic!
At a certain point, we all realize we're one of the last few cars left in the parking lot and it's almost four in the morning, and more out of empathy for the sleepy driver (me) than the will to return home which is practically zero, between greetings, kisses, and hugs we leave Mun and Gwen and head back to Padua.
On the semi-deserted road back home someone is already asleep, someone still has the strength to hum along to the tune of QOTSA, with ears still ringing from the devastating night spent, with a navigator that no longer works as well as on the way there, and being very careful to spot the Padua sign on the blurred road signs with our poor sleepy eyes, we witness destroyed but satisfied the dawn of the next day, my first DeAlba.
I really hope it's not the only one I'll attend with you Friends, what a night!
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