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Rating: We will never get tired.
An old Marlene fan who entered the heated room only ten minutes late would have had some temporal dizziness. Cenere su Cenere, Ape Regina, Sonica, all together, ten minutes from the start. Cristiano with his face covered by the helmet of straight hair from the early days.
The first three-quarters of an hour of Marlene, yesterday, in Turin, was a dive into the past. After the opening entrusted to the latest single, Bellezza, already well received by the audience, came the old Marlene anger attack, which seemed never-ending. Catartica was almost entirely revived, from Mala Mela to 1,2,3, with a couple of incursions into Vile, paradoxically aided by a somewhat substandard sound set that muddied the sound and a few human blunders by Cristiano, who dropped the noise drumstick, forgot the guitar, and missed notes here and there. Nothing but pretentiousness. A masterful captatio benevolentiae.
With Festa Mesta, the first half ends, and the audience, stunned by the heat (inexplicably, the air conditioners at Hiroshima were turned off) and the adrenaline rush, is now ready to accept anything. Evidently, the band, mindful of the criticisms received from Che cosa vedi onwards, after the collaboration with Skin and the general softening of their creative vein, wanted to ensure they could peacefully perform the new songs.
The second half of the concert is a gentle turn to the songs from the last two albums. It begins with the Argentine Amen, from the new Bianco Sporco, very well received, then Danza, from Senza Peso. If the brisk pace of the first half is now a memory, it doesn't mean there's time for a truce. The songs follow one another without pause, interspersed with Cristiano's usual timid "thanks," who seems more and more satisfied with the atmosphere.
Fortunately, Ineluttabile isn't missing, unfortunately, the only piece from Ho Ucciso Paranoia. After the initial doubts, it's easy to quickly find the present coordinates. Dan Solo's long curls replaced by Gianni Maroccolo's beard and facial expressions, probably the principal person responsible for the rejuvenated sound, with the distorted and fuzzed bass and raw open-tuning re-chords, testify that these are the new Marlene.
Precious is the participation of Rob Ellis, Nick Cave's violinist, who had already collaborated on the recordings of Senza Peso and co-produced Bianco Sporco.
When the lights warm up and from the white of the lamps, suggestive like lit ice cubes scattered around the stage, shift to the red of the spotlights, he's at the synth, the protagonist of an unpublished version of Schiele, lei, me, perhaps the best track of Senza Peso. Accompanied only by Riccardo Tesio's delicate strummings and Cristiano, stripped of the guitar, with his bare voice. And then the dark closes the concert.
It's time for the encore. Nuotando Nell'Aria is now an explicit request from the audience, but as always, it's Marlene who leads the game. Again Bianco Sporco, therefore, La Cognizione Del Dolore, A chi Succhia, La Lira Di Narciso, again a leap backwards with the blue painted blue of a Fior Di Pelle and the nostalgia of Canzone Di Domani and then Mondo Cattivo.
So Cristiano raises his arm high on the crescendo of the finale and falls down with his whole body. Darkness. End. Complete enthusiasm.
They have grown, perhaps older, perhaps newer, but they are still the Marlene Kuntz. The applause doesn't stop, the audience wants them back on stage, still excited, with the desire for Nuotando Nell'Aria lingering there, like an orgasm that never arrives. And Marlene is great. And the orgasm never comes.
With Poeti, again from Bianco Sporco, the band offers a second encore. The audience drinks it up, happy, without asking for more. It's fine like this, it's fine. In the end, for once, Cristiano smiles fully: "Thank you, truly thank you, see you in the summer, it was wonderful".
And we all head home, with the thought that Marlene might even start doing Latinoamericana. We, in going to listen to them, will never get tired.
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