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Rating: Everyone was there. My neighbor, the very tall guy with gray dreadlocks and the red shirt with the hammer and sickle on it, the boys without beards but with bangs, the rockabilly girls, some skaters without skates, a guy with a leather jacket, a Neanderthal forehead, and a ponytail.
A guy in his forties with a drawn face, glasses, a mullet proudly hanging over his backpack, and a head keeping the beat. Girls saying look look, it's Manzan. Boys passing around cigarettes. Couples with Nikons, men with portable cameras.
Flashes, cell phones, glasses on the ground, paper scraps, and cigarette butts are the most visible and lasting manifestation of all these people's presence.
The first band, Feed The Dog (bass, drums, and vocals), I didn't hear them.
A brief wait, enough time to change a few microphones and have a beer, then Teatro Degli Orrori takes the stage.
Dressed in black, as dark as the world they sing about, they start with "E' Colpa Mia".
The pogo begins, and from my side position, I wonder if it's my fault that I'm becoming a stone and no longer get excited about these things.
The sulfurous guitars, the hardcore rhythms thrash each other.
A perfect and decidedly enviable shot.
Then they continue with other tracks from the new album "A Sangue Freddo," up to the title track, preceded by a distorted guitar intro.
Even I can't resist and dive into the pogo after handing over all those things I might lose: keys, cell phone, and wallet, into safe hands.
In the front rows, there's a tangle of hands reaching toward Capovilla, who sings as if insulting someone. He is bent over those tense and spasmodic hands, open, carved into the spotlight.
From afar, it has a certain effect. Capovilla touches heads, casts glances, and mimes with his fingers scenic guns firing imaginary shots. He raises his clenched fist. He's a true showman, even if at times a bit rhetorical, who grabs attention and gives shape and body to the music that doesn't give an inch.
Between songs, he makes jokes, provokes the audience (during a pause of silence in a song, I don't remember which, a guy yells "yeahhh," PP looks at him and says "What does this - yeahhh - mean? this is a narrative silence, what were you narrating with your yeah?" The audience acknowledges with applause, PP gestures that it's not necessary and that it was all in good humor "Come on, now let's try again" and the song resumes), shares observations and political considerations about Italy.
At one point, he throws himself onto the audience.
Their version of the Lord's Prayer, and "Il Terzo Mondo," a summary of little Italy, little Italy, bad Italy.
Nicola Manzan plays the violin on "La canzone Di Tom" and the rhythm of the show is more or less this: panzer songs, electric madrigals, thoughtful-relaxed tracks.
In the encores, "Vita Mia", "Dio Mio", "Compagna Teresa", and "E Lei Venne!" All powerful and tense.
"Il Turbamento Della Gelosia" also arrives with its fractured riff.
Unfortunately, the show and sound fall victim to a certain repetitiveness, due also to the sound system, flattening the tracks and forfeiting the nuances appreciated on the record.
The songs end up being all a bit too similar.
But on the other hand, we must acknowledge more than one merit of Teatro Degli Orrori.
What is obvious is their lyrical intensity, their social commitment, and their communicative ability.
And it's for this reason that, in my opinion, they are not only one of the best bands around at the moment but also at the height of their splendor and visibility.
Seeing them live today is a great opportunity, one of those experiences that could even mark you.
Who better than them embodies the imagery of political commitment à la Saviano, shaded behind an obscure symbolism of other times, revisits the provocative and alternative tradition of 90s noise music, and manages to be credible?
Setting Baudelaire and Mayakovsky to music without being snobbish and maintaining a strong impact is not for everyone.
After the concert, Manzan, Gionata Mirai, Francesco Valente, and PP Capovilla stroll around the Nuvolari park.
They talk amiably with many fans (including the review's narrator) without arrogance and without haste. Hugs, photos, and handshakes.
Capovilla talks about a bit of everything, twirling his cell phone in his hands; the aura he emanates is not far from what is shown in the nice mini-documentary made by those from "Pronti Al Peggio".
The mini-documentary says, however, "He plays in the [mentioned band] but doesn't act like a rock star" almost annoyed.
I think the human side that emerges from groups like this is precisely the result of this "Swiss" nature (like Swiss politicians who aren't career politicians but mainly do other jobs to stay in closer contact with the country's concrete problems) and distinguishes the beauty of these "Late" blooms.
Capovilla was born in 1968 and debuted with Teatro in 2007; back in the days of One Dimensional Man, I think few would have expected the lucid poetry of Teatro Degli Orrori.
Tonight it's the turn of Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti by Davide Toffolo, 1965, another example that producing quality art also requires a significant amount of maturation.
So it's a good thing they're not acting like rock stars, that they're waiters or accountants when the results are at this level.
It's my fault
if we've become indifferent
poorer, sadder
and less intelligent
it's my fault
that I don't care about your hopes
maybe because of ideas
I no longer know what to do
it's my fault
I had never thought about it
ps-I didn't take photos because I didn't have the camera: it wouldn't fit in my pocket.
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