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Rating: Fifteen years. That's how long I had to wait. Since, as a fifteen-year-old, I bought "Isn't Anything" and was shocked upon the first listen of "Soft as Snow," and felt like the only person in the world who could hear and understand. All MBV fans feel this way, the only ones in the world who can perceive the music from the noise, who can see the light in the darkness. Fifteen years, and a dream comes true, because life is wonderfully (and terribly) unpredictable. I enter the Zenith at eight; it's not overcrowded, but in the first rows, the excitement and impatience are palpable. There are people from Israel, Portugal, England... and it seems we all shared the same love story with "Loveless." The same. The lights go out, and MBV enters. Bilinda Butcher is as beautiful as a dream, and visually creates a strange sense of alienation, dressed like a vaudeville actress with that genuinely angelic face. Kevin Shields is exactly as I always imagined him, a tech-savvy guy dressed in black, aged over his amplifiers. Eight. Really, eight cabinets with double heads. Debbie Googe, small and powerful, and Colm O'Cíosóig, the wondrously frantic drummer. Bilinda approaches and says "Bonsoir," the sample starts, and the band launches into "I Only Said", and it's madness. What you hear on "Loveless" really exists. And it's not a wall of sound, it's a vortex, something in front, behind, above, and below you, something you feel in your belly, under your tongue, something that suffuses you. That thing exists live and I can't explain it, it's there. "When You Sleep", a marvel, is performed while sunbeams race behind them, filtered through tree leaves. Then there are two pieces from "Isn't Anything", "When You Wake" and "You Never Should" where the rhythm section, especially Colm O'Cíosóig, stands out for the dynamics and the incredible energy that, now I understand, is one of the things that make this band special. MBV gifts us "Cigarette in Your Bed" and then here's "Only Shallow", Bilinda's barely perceptible voice in an opalescent sonic magma. After a tense "Nothing Much to Lose", comes the masterpiece of the concert, a version of "To Here Knows When" over eight minutes—but who counts the minutes of an ecstasy—that was an absolute delight for the soul. Followed by "Blown a Wish", "Slow" and "Soon", beautiful. At this point, it's time for the supreme love song, "Feed Me with Your Kiss", the volumes exceed 110 decibels and it's barely recognizable, but hearing it live, sung by those two crazy people who once loved each other too, is a truly intense experience. It expresses everything that can't be said. After "Sue Is Fine" comes the finale, "You Made Me Realize", in which MBV plays a long, mind-blowing in the sense of a DRUG and deafening in the true sense feedback, where you hear a plane taking off, the impending apocalypse, and almost all the noise of the world channeled into those minutes. We're at 120 decibels, and it's almost unbearable without the earplugs they gave us at the entrance. And here, the disgrace. Given the exceeded threshold (which was 101 decibels) the Zenith decides to cut the bass from the guitar and bass. Kevin Shields notices, drops the guitar on the ground, and leaves. The rest of the band looks a bit bewildered and then leaves too. At this point, the audience starts begging them to come out. Kevin Shields apologizes for the poor sound quality, "It's not how it should be," resumes the feedback from where he left off, finishes the concert, says "thank you for staying," and leaves. Not a concert, but an experience. This band will never have epigones, never references, never heirs, and it's definitely right that way.
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