Muso 2016
Seconda Serata

Saturday, July 23, 2016, second night of «Muso 2016 – Live Music & Comics».

I'm in total panic, I just got a phone call from the second girlfriend of the second night and she dumped me.

I can't show up at an event unaccompanied, it's just not possible.

Luckily it starts to rain, and I secretly hope for a re-edition of the Great Flood, so the evening is canceled, I can stay home and watch a movie with Laurel and Hardy, and no one will ever know about the disgrace inflicted on me.

But then I tell myself that I'm Pinhead, and a girlfriend's rejection certainly can't keep me away from a wild night of rock'n'roll. So, I engage in a long and exhausting session of self-persuasion, telling myself it's better to be alone than poorly accompanied, who doesn't love me doesn't deserve me, when one door closes, another opens, and the sea is full of fish.

I'm going, I finally decide, alone but I'm going!

And I'm going there after having dinner, just for the sake of defying DeMa.

I rush out of the house, leap onto the Cortina with the tank full of gas, and once again speed towards Oriolo, which is Romano but located in the province of Viterbo, and how satisfying it is to make an interprovincial trip to attend three concerts?

In Oriolo, finding parking is a mission, and tonight, since it's Saturday, the village is teeming with life, forcing me to park even further away, almost double the distance from yesterday. As I approach the little square, I notice that a Beetle has sneakily taken my spot from yesterday; it would be awesome to key its side, but I move on; and after twenty minutes, ten of which spent bent over the little hill to catch my breath, I manage to get through the gates.

The usual splendid welcome is offered by the simple aromas of sausages, big steaks, various roasts, and rosemary, which are tempting me again tonight, but I came having already eaten – thus, defying DeMa once more – and I promptly make my way under the stage.

On stage are two members of Eventide, which is pronounced Iventaid contrary to how it's written, and they are finishing their sound checks. Terrible! It sounds like Angelo Branduardi who converted to brutal death THRASH metal, something of GenitalGrinder, so I get up from where I was crouching, move away, and position myself on the elevated edge of the little square where bourgeois reactionaries and capitalists enjoy drinks in cheer, frantically check their iPhones, indifferent to the concerts, while the local old folks have come out armed with folding stools for sitting and chatting, much better than ending the day in front of the TV; they seem friendly by instinct, so I ask for hospitality and they grant it without hesitation, and here I am comfortably seated on a wooden stool waiting for a wild night of rock'n'roll.

It’s 9:45 PM and Eventide takes the stage, pronounced Iventaid, they hail from Viterbo, so they're practically playing at home and have a decent following underneath the stage where I was just a few minutes ago, «... they are a band of Epic Folk music with mythological and fairy-tale themes. They formed in the summer of 2014. [In] June 2016, “Racconti del crepuscolo” their first self-produced EP [was released] ...». That epic folk was the metal version of Angelo Branduardi was a fear I had while leaving home, but it doesn’t matter at all because a stunning violinist wearing a heart-stopping short jacket and pant suit has also taken the stage, who wasn't there when I was crouched under the stage. Therefore, it's only right to bid the old folks farewell, wish them a wonderful night, and return to secure my frontline position, epic folk or not; and I confirm that, even up close, the violinist is adorable. Again, don't ask me for track titles, I only remember a few: one is «Linceo», instrumental where at a certain point the singer starts shouting «Linceo, Linceo, Linceo» with a terrifying growl, and even below the stage there's crazy moshing, and everyone shouts «Linceo, Linceo, Linceo»; and «Essere Icaro» which probably tells the story of poor Icarus who wanted to fly but crashed to the ground. Anyway, I’ve linked the videos of the two tracks, and re-listening to them in studio version, they’re not even metalheads, so I guess the sound technicians are doing a rather shabby job, because more than at Muso, between yesterday and today, I feel like I've landed at Gods Of Metal. Nonetheless, the guys put effort and charm into it, the violinist is still adorable and even sings, they perform two covers – «Volta La Carta» and «Impressioni Di Settembre» – finishing with «Linceo» once more and everyone moshing like crazy shouting «Linceo, Linceo, Linceo», the concert ends and Eventide also known as Iventaid bid farewell. Well done, good job.

Pause.

I head to the bar for a glass of sparkling water, the bartender gives me a pitiful look and throws a commiserating «Living the life, huh?» my way, but he can afford it because I know him and am alone, so I don’t make a fool of myself with anyone; however, out of spite, I don’t pay for the drink, jokingly threatening to tell the owner he's insulted a prominent customer. And back I go under the stage.

It's Venus In Furs' turn, and just from the name I know they'll be the best of the evening. They come from Pisa and «... “Carnival” is their new album. A record that moves from American rock roots to quality Italian singer-songwriter styles, and from there to pop, rolling out songs of rare anthemic power, never banal, to shamelessly sing out loud …». Indeed, they are very good, I believe I am witnessing the first “real” band of the event, and it shows in how they handle the stage and their demeanor: their entrance is remarkable, with the drummer entering solo and pounding the drums like mad for a minute until the other two musicians join in. Singer/guitarist in tails and shirt sleeves, bassist in elegant jacket and tie, the drummer who soon strips to the waist, Venus In Furs plays crushing guitar riffs and constant feedback, with drums and bass advancing at a charging pace, heavy music at the crossroads of Marlene Kuntz, Afterhours, and Verdena, although at the end of the concert when they ask us in the audience if we have requests, they caution against asking for pieces by those very bands; unable to read or write, I shamelessly shout «Cretin Hop» but either they don't hear me, or they ignore me, or they hear but don’t know how to play it. And finally, there is genuine moshing, and for a while, I join in and briefly meet Giuseppe, Loredana, and their beautiful child who is the most wild at moshing, blessed youth. However, as a reporter, I am terrible, so I only tell you about «Non Mi Rilasso», «Anita Così Non Vale» which grabs me right away because it reminds me of «Così non Va Veronica» by Bennato, and this «Leggins» which may sound foolish but for me has all it takes to make its way. Very, very good, I write it again; the only point being, as Finardi puts it, that here our music isn’t bad, what doesn’t hold up are just the words, meaning I don’t understand these lyrics at all, and if they were in English I wouldn’t understand them either but I would be much more thrilled about the aforementioned Marlene Kuntz, Afterhours, and Verdena and related lineage. As for Venus In Furs, there’s quite a bit on YouTube, I listened and fully confirm the positive feelings from the concert.

Another break, this time I make full use of it because three minutes of good old moshing have left me winded, so I go to the bar with Giuseppe, Loredana and their little girl, and this time the bartender doesn't dare to make sarcastic comments about me. I, deep down, am a good devil, pay for everyone and even cover the previous glass of water I grabbed for free, thus funding the cause so that in 2017 there will be another three-day Muso and I’ll come back to tell you about it.

Giuseppe and his family are Sardinian, living near Rome where they work, and tonight they came to Oriolo to see the Train To Roots concert; they insist I stay, even though it's midnight, because if I’ve never heard of them, this is the right occasion to discover and appreciate them. I trust them, because they have friendly faces and maybe I’ll stay awake until one; so I go back under the stage, but I’m done moshing, not even if the Avengers took the stage.

As the clock strikes the hour, the Train To Roots appear: these guys have genuine dreadlocks. On the event's website, you’ll find that they come from Sassari and are «... characterized by explosive live shows, they have maintained a special mix of styles and languages, incorporating various nuances of Jamaican music and black music with engaging and fun lyrics in Italian, Sardinian, and English ...»: in hindsight, I confirm it all, and thanks to Giuseppe, Loredana, and their little one for suggesting I stay. Anyway, since they have dreadlocks they must play reggae – I tell myself – calm rhythms, no moshing, I'll sit again and spend another hour in the open air which is always immensely beneficial. In fact, as they start playing, the music is nicely relaxed, classic instrumental reggae blended with dub, I can close my eyes and relax in perfect peace. Then suddenly, two characters with dreadlocks themselves jump on stage to screams and cheers, bouncing and running while spitting out a crazy mix of Italian, Sardinian dialect, and English which instantly force open my eyes, and I feel pressure at my back and sides; I straighten up and there are Loredana and Giuseppe with their little girl on the shoulder, swaying and waving their arms. But it’s not just them … In two minutes, Oriolo’s little square is packed with hundreds of people I’m still wondering where they sprang from, all swaying and dancing. Caught in their midst, I’m compelled to sway and dance propelled by the crowd’s inertia, and all hope of returning to my beloved old folks and their stools is lost, for the time being, but I stay alert to seize any chance to slip away unobtrusively. But dream on about that, these guys are war machines, they never stop, transitioning seamlessly from one track to the next, it's an unbroken sound carpet, they are the Ramones of reggae; rather, no, they’re worse than the Ramones, at least the brothers slipped in the inevitable «One-Two-Three-Four». An hour and a half of dancing and singing, I have no idea what I danced to or sang, at some point I think I catch «Police Gun» but I’m so far gone I think they’ve launched into a cover of «Police And Thieves» and I completely fall apart.

At the end, there’s just the wonderful sensation of a shared multitude never seen before in Oriolo, hugs with Giuseppe and Loredana, a little kiss to their lovely little girl, and the hope we cross paths again someday, while I head alone back to the Cortina, grinning like a fool and murmuring to myself, damn, oh damn, oh damn, damn, what a hit, until I return home which is already today, and start listening to «Bankrobber».

…......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

«She keeps repeating damn» says a never-more-beautiful Kim Basinger to Russell Crowe.

«And she knows the instrument very well» replies Russell Crowe to a never-more-beautiful Kim Basinger.