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Rating: Thursday, March 18, Nonantola. So much happened, truly a lot. I don't remember everything exactly, I don't even recall if the chronological order of events that I am about to describe is correct, but I trust what my fellow adventurers and the photos testify to. It's always convenient to have someone with you when you know you'll be literally swept away by adrenaline, decibels, and many other things. Read carelessly, let neglect strike this poor account, so great is my disappointment, for the alcohol-induced ignorance (however if you read the last period carefully you will notice the refinement of my AB BA rhymes...).
Let's start a few hours before the concert. It's 6:00 PM and I'm already in pole position. Me and my trusty squire (Jack, a guy from my entourage) are the only two Living Colour fans in Nonantola (Mo) present four hours before the start: what a way to welcome Vernon and his group, but nevertheless, Italy is not worthy of Living Colour. We won't be discouraged, though. Given that there were only two of us and that of the only seven words of English, I'm the one who manages them (Jack, poor thing, is a very nice guy but his English is on par with parmesan cheese on mussels) I will be the man to properly welcome the four of them and make them feel the famous Italian warmth. At 18:07, the band's drummer Will comes out of the bus (a large double-decker bus) accompanied by a couple of friends. They are heading to the restaurant near the Vox, where Will will enjoy a plate of "spagheto con fongola," as he calls it. He will tell us at the end of the concert how much he loves "fongola": Will, I renew my invitation for dinner at my house, I can easily find spaghetti at the supermarket and I know plenty of clams (but also mussels, squid, and cuttlefish)! We accompany him as he heads to the restaurant, exchange a few quick impressions, various photos & autographs (I even got my butt signed!), a few quick jokes about the concert the night before in Florence, and let him go enjoy a few glasses of good lambrusco. Soon after, it's time to greet Daug Wimbish, my best friend, the greatest bassist in the world (maybe). Daug and I are great friends (well, not exactly great friends). I remind him that in October at Zingonia I asked him the reason for the only Italian date for the presentation of the latest album "Collide0scope" and remind him of his answer ("I don’t know the reason why, but I promise you we’ll come back in March"), he looks at me, flashes a smile with three hundred seventy teeth, and shouts "We came!" Yes, you came, my best friend, and we hug, while Jack remains stunned and amazed before his idol (Jack dabbles in the bass). Photos & Autographs, left butt cheek instead of the right one already signed by Will, and we let him go to eat. Corey is a bit out of sorts, all wrapped up in his hooded sweater and I only allow myself to tell him that at the end of the concert he won't escape me for sure. He nods and says that after the performance he will gladly take some photos and give autographs. Vodka is happily circulating in my blood and my main problem now is to determine which part of my body to have Corey and Vernon sign since my cheeks are already occupied. Meanwhile, as I consider the most suitable member and whether or not to use acrylic colors (I would not like a very suspicious redness in those areas), the doors of the Vox open. Jack and I with his girlfriend rush inside where I will have the honor of sitting on the stage and take a mental trip perched exactly where the legendary ones will go and perform. The room is all mine, I embrace a singer's monitor (I even have the instinct to take it home with me as a souvenir, but a burly Colour staff member will give me many good reasons to desist) and wait for the supporting band to quickly get out of the way. Then… SHOW!!!
Those four wild ones start with "Middle Man" from Vivid and "Leave It Alone" from Stain, which means "how to get the audience into screams and dances without too many frills and warnings". Unlike the October date, the volume is much more humane. Three very intense songs corresponding exactly to the first three tracks of the latest album will follow. The guys benefited from the clams, they push as hard as they can without holding back. Hira, who by now has joined us inside the venue, relishes the front row with the evolutions and time changes between the bassist and drummer. Corey vents his anger in the lyrics of "Postman" and "Go Away" from Stain then he takes a moment to catch his breath with the sweet and provocative chant of "Flying," the song dedicated to 9/11. And here the Living surprise us all by mixing the finale of "Flying" with some passages from "Heroes" by David Bowie: the Rock'n'Roll and Vodka ecstasy makes me believe they did it on purpose for me (even though they know nothing of my passion for the Duke). The four do not fail to mention all the albums in their history: the setlist is varied and unexpected, between a poke at the White Stripes and a song of mockery: "George Bush is a terrorist" sung by the Bassist (with a capital B) in a jam with Will on drums. "Cult of Personality" is to scream at the top of your lungs, with Corey winking when he sings the line about Mussolini. I know at a certain point during the concert I asked him what he thought of the Beatles, they had just started the encores and performed "Tomorrow Never Knows" and he looked at me and replied "Beatles? YEAHH! I Love them, sure!". I also know that Vernon's string broke, but don't ask me when and during which song, as vodka had complete control over my mental faculties and didn’t allow me to note down all the events accurately. The Live (with a capital L) ends with Vernon playing a toy guitar and with an impeccable performance of "Love Reared Its Ugly Head", just like that, my favorite Living Colour song. But it’s not over, because now we’re going to wait for them outside. While the four relax for a moment before meeting waiting fans (who in the meantime had become 6 (besides me, Jack, Jack's girlfriend, and Hira, Fool and Mule join us) I sweet-talk the mixer operator for the setlist and, once obtained, I go to buy "HEAD FAKE SoundSystem - Play by Play", the Jungle and DUB project by Will and Daug directly from Will's hands (expect a review shortly). While I take the cd, I get yet another autograph from Will this time on the setlist. Then outside with Daug and Vernon, then again Will, to whom I present again the setlist to sign: he looks at me and with an eloquent gesture makes me understand that perhaps he's signed enough: "My signature is already here! But what do you do next, sell them???". I respond, in English, never so slurred and mumbling: "Forget about me, Will, I got drunk!!!". Followed by a big sigh from Jack who was trying to express his fluency to Will with a macaroni-style "I’m so out!". Okay, guys, it's late and the Livings have to go. But before Will leaves, I ask him one last thing: "Hey Will, What's Your Favourite Colour?" He laughs heartily while Jack and I sing "What's your favourite colour, baby? Living Colour!".
The evening draws to a close. Jack and I and the others try to gather the last neurons left alive to struggle to reach our homes. Thank you all: the fantastic four for their usual availability, friendliness as well as an inhuman artistic capacity. Thanks to Hira, and sorry if I was rude, but you know how it is, sometimes I let go a bit too much! Thanks to Jack and his girlfriend, for the fact they are Jack and his girlfriend (as Jack told the four "Thank you for existing!" I laugh, Jack, I heartily laugh!). Thanks also to Fool and Mule who finally had the decency to make themselves a Living concert and so they too got a mountain of souvenirs to remember. But most of all, thank God for inventing Living Colour. May God himself preserve them forever and ever.
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