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Rating: In life, you have to make choices between duty and pleasure and among different pleasures themselves. When I found out about two months ago that Mogwai would be playing in Italy for three dates in October as part of their promotional tour for "Every Country’s Sun," I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, especially given the good feedback I had already gathered from the first listens of their latest album. Sure, it was a bit of a complicated time with my graduation approaching, requiring some careful planning to make it happen. But I needed to fill this gap, as it would be worse to regret it later.
With a positive prognosis, the next question was: okay, Mogwai, but where to see them? Milan, Bologna, or perhaps Rome? Being a resident across the strait, you’ll understand that traveling with the "Eurospin of the skies" and still having to cover ground makes the choice relative. After initially considering Milan, I opted for the capital: a cheaper flight, it's Saturday (a welcome change from the usual sleepy evening), and besides, I’ve never visited there! And never mind having to postpone the set with Tycho (stationed in Turin) and the Dead Kennedys without Jello (my conscience partially thanks me) who will be playing in the Eternal City at the same time. The potential spectacle promised by Mogwai was really high.
Regarding the actual concert, I decided to buy the ticket directly at the box office that evening. Yes, there was a line, maybe I was taking a risk, but ultimately the sold-out was far off; the venue accommodates about 3,000 people, and saving money never hurts.
On the way, I met two Calabrian girls who had also come from afar to attend the event. We exchanged some chat about various music groups, and I discovered they, like me, had been at Bayfest this summer.
Arriving at the venue, after a brief wait, I ate a dry hamburger and entered when around 9:00 pm the Sacred Paws were playing the last two songs of their set. I had never listened to them before, and even now I didn’t pay much attention in those few seconds.
It’s clear that everyone at the Atlantico (a venue located in the Eur area) was there for Stuart Braithwaite, Dominic Aitchison, and their companions. Without much delay, at exactly 9:29 the Scots took the stage, glasses of wine in hand, brief greetings with the audience, and began with "20 Size" from their latest work. In the end, the tracks taken from "Every Country’s Sun" were 7 (strangely missing "Coolverine"), many, perhaps too many, but fortunately, it’s only a joy given the success of the latest musical project that surpasses the previous "Rave Tapes," bringing back from the past a taste for sulfur-scented guitars and post-metal that results in a explosive performance, and here Martin played a significant role, pounding ferociously with a bloodthirsty "Old Poison."
I had never been to a post-rock concert, and I can say that the audience is very varied in age and gender. There’s a lot of reflection, much silence, much concentration, little movement. There’s a strong desire to dream with open eyes and let oneself be carried away by the strong emotional vortex that comes from the stage a few meters ahead. The keyboards and electronic effects also contribute a lot to creating such a vortex. Then they play "Rano Pano," which the audience appreciates, and I even more, and I’m immediately in tears. I might have missed the Kennedys, but nothing is more hardcore than the epic scenario created by the distortions and noise effects emanating from the four’s equipment. After all, on some tracks, apart from meditation, a bit of movement in the middle would have been good.
The only truly sung piece is the latest single "Party in the Dark" (an unusual pop-shoegaze fascination with a full song structure), but Mogwai have strong character and stature and know how to transform their instruments into sentient organisms made of flesh and bones, filled with emotions, and create rents in the sky, making it bleed from above. They manage solely with the use of instruments to revisit a good portion of possible genres and emotional spectrums, between soft dreamy dreams, dark atmospheres (“Don’t believe the Fife”), soft-loud dynamics, and explosions with deafening volumes ("Battered at a Scramble," another number drawn from the latest work), the latter being a true trademark since 1997. The lights and minimalist scenography held up well. Perhaps some doubt remains about the sound system.
It ends with the classic "Mogwai Fear Satan," 16 minutes of redemption and passion, on the twentieth anniversary, just these days, of "Young Team." And precisely on the slow and solemn fade-out, the four shy Scots exit the scene at 10:58 amid applause after about 1 hour and 25 minutes of set. The setlist is satisfying also thanks to the retrieval of "Auto Rock," suspended between the delicacy of the soft initial keyboard notes and the subsequent harshness, a pleasant surprise, despite being the only card drawn from the excellent "Mr. Beast" deck, an album from 2006.
All that remains is to head outside where I found the two girls again, waiting for the first bus available to the nearest metro stop to return to the B & B. But then I realized that it’s only 11:40, too early, so off I went to the Colosseum again, and never mind having been there in the morning. I’m exhausted; I’ve been walking all day, but it’s only done me good.
Returning to Sicily, happy to have added another beautiful postcard to the almanac of good memories.
Setlist
20 Size
I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead
Party in the Dark
Battered at a Scramble
Ithica 27ø9
Crossing the Road Material
Hunted by a Freak
Rano Pano
Don’t Believe the Fife
2 Rights Make 1 Wrong
Auto Rock
Old Poison
Encore:
Every Country’s Sun
Mogwai Fear Satan
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