Kings of Leon
Live - Milano, Rainbow, 17-11-03

THE REVIEW

I was really curious to see the four neo-hippy rockers from Nashville live, and, like me, many other people too, since the venue is quite crowded. After half an hour of boozy waiting, the mystery of the support group is finally revealed; initially, it seemed that the Thrills were supposed to open, but for some fortunate and timely reason, they decided to play on their own a couple of days earlier, thus sparing me another line at the bar. So space then for the Jets, as indicated on the entrance ticket.

When I was expecting four young guys on stage, instead arrives a young lady with an angelic smile who candidly declares herself to be Regina Spektor, tonight as a supporter. Having said that, she grabs the microphone and performs a solo, her voice warm and sensual, pleasant; she then sits at the keyboard and crosses four notes, on which she improvises some folk ballads, accompanying herself with a drumstick on a stool. From the front row comes a rather direct compliment to her person, the music stops and the sweet and gentle girl responds with a resounding "fuck off"... then she resumes singing, smiling, among applause. The girl not only has character but also a keen sense of observation: as soon as she sees the first signs of narcolepsy in the audience, she passes the scene to the three brothers, plus cousin, from Tennessee.

A country jingle accompanies them on stage, their look all strictly mustached and long-haired, as per the script. They start with "Red Morning Light," slightly slowed down compared to the original and therefore less lively, pity. Better with the following "Wasted Time" and "Spiral Staircase," raw and direct enough, on which Caleb's hoarse and shrill voice takes the lead. Space then for the strong pieces "Holy Roller Novocaine" and "Molly’s Chambers": the country-rock-garage blend that comes out is lively and electrifying until the concluding "Happy Alone" and "Trani." About a dozen pieces in total, then the four say goodbye and leave.

The lights come on, no encore. Some whistles, a few disappointed faces; 50 minutes, though bustling and fast-paced, are always too few for a concert. What can I say, with only one album to their name, one couldn't expect a marathon... but a couple more pieces, even just a paltry encore, would have earned the applause held back at the end.