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Rating: I feared it would be a night for the veterans, as reunions often are. Reminiscing about the good old days and, fundamentally, getting bored. Because we are no longer what we were. Just to be clear, I never attend alumni gatherings, you won't find me on Facebook, and just a couple of times a year I have a drink with a couple of high school friends. For Massimo Volume, I made an exception to the rule, and it was worth it because the guys gave me the best concert I've attended this year.
I believe I have already confessed on DeB my love for Egle Sommacal, my favorite Italian guitarist for some years now. He did not disappoint. Clean, precise, with absolute control of the instrument, he creates flaming arabesques. His chords intertwine perfectly with those of the new addition, Stefano Pilia (formerly of Settlefish and 3/4 Has been eliminated), who handles the dirty work, distortion, and feedback. But, as happens to me all the, rare, times I see an exciting drummer, I was completely captivated by the work of Vittoria Burattini. She practically sustains the entire rhythm section by herself. Emidio Clementi indeed, engaged in reciting his stories, never offers significant bass lines, sticking to the essentials. Vittoria masters the snare and cymbals and lays the foundation of the sound garden.
Calm and relentless, as one of my travel companions correctly observed, they unfolded, in more than an hour and a half, the best of their production, drawing indiscriminately from their four full-length albums. Slightly overlooked was that "Club Privé," perhaps too clean in many of its tracks to be played live. From this, however, they offered one of my favorites, "Dopo Che," and an "Altri Nomi," partly rearranged, absolutely fierce. Closing with three encores, including "Alessandro," with splendid performance. The audience was fascinated and happy, and I think they would have stayed for another hour to hear Mimì's stories, even though they knew them by heart.
Digression: Paradoxically, having Massimo Volume been part of my life more in recent years than at the time of their peak, it seems to me they still have much to say. Surely, Clementi will have to invent new stories, more tied to current events, to also engage younger listeners. But, musically, they seem to have such a classicism as not to fear comparison, in our parts, with anyone. Too much drank (this time, luckily, I didn't have to drive) to hold a serious conversation with Mimì, I didn't go to greet him at the end of the concert, while my former bassist only managed to exchange a few pleasantries with Egle, busy dismantling his mountain of effects and guitars and loading them into the van (yes, they do everything themselves, just like in the old days). So, I can't tell you what their plans are. It would truly be a shame though if they don't return to the studio this winter to console us next September.
For M. For all the nonsense I couldn't tell her, for all those I will no longer be able to hear from her.
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