Opeth
Live @ Alcatraz, Milano 24.11.11

Any reference to persons, things, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Friday, July 15, 2011, 5:15 PM

J: Hi P, it's J. Listen, I'm on vacation in a remote village in Südtirol: here they don't speak Italian even if you pay them, the average is two degrees above zero, there are thirteen inhabitants, eighty-seven cows, and not even an internet point. Can you buy me a ticket for Opeth on TicketOne?

P: Sure.

(True friends are recognized in times of need, for everything else there's MasterCard)

I couldn't believe it, finally the dream of a lifetime was coming true: I would see Opeth live! Four long months of anxious waiting followed, up to the euphoria of the days leading up to the concert, during which, with twists and turns and sensational flops, our attendance, despite having secured tickets, remained uncertain until the last moment.

So it was that after a relatively uneventful train journey (though it was delayed by half an hour) at 6:30 PM on Thursday, November 24, G and I reached the mysterious Alcatraz, already animated outside by a few hundred people in line, as well as some unlikely scalpers who were even offering to buy (!) tickets. Within fifteen minutes we were inside and, after a precautionary bathroom pit-stop, we secured our spot, not bad, I must say, about ten meters from the stage.

Pain of Salvation

On the dot, they make their entrance at 8. Like Opeth, they too have recently released a new album and, also like the aforementioned, have changed their style. Well, judging by the audience's response, I'd say the new album has been well absorbed by the fans who, from the powerful opener Softly She Cries, enthusiastically participate in the band's performance. I admit I've never listened to this group, which, by the way, has been talked about highly; fortunately, my musical ignorance didn't stop me from appreciating them: these guys, besides having remarkable technical skill, everyone included, are truly energetic and watching them play is a real spectacle. Daniel Gildenlöw does wonders with his voice, Johan Hallgren is literally an animal on stage, the keyboardist and bassist, although less explosive, do an excellent job, the same goes for drummer Léo Margarit, who may be modest in stage presence but exceptional in his work.

To the fans' disappointment, PoS say goodbye after not even forty minutes, forty minutes during which, aided by a nearly perfect acoustic, they moved among celestial music and killer rhythms, all with maximum ease.

Opeth

By now the audience is all for them, occasionally starting a chant, and as the instruments are prepared, the excitement rises steeply: we're almost there! At 9 PM the music stops, the lights go out, actually, no, they turn them back on, everything is blue and the unmistakable Through Pain to Heaven starts: we're there! In the dim light of the stage, they make their entrance:

• Mikael Åkerfeldt, otherwise known as the Frank Sinatra of death metal or, if you prefer, the most famous mustache in Stockholm.
• Martin Mendez, otherwise known as the poor man's Jaco Pastorius.
• Martin Axenrot, otherwise known as the poor man's Legolas.
• Joakim Svalberg, otherwise known as the poor man's Jens Johansson.
• Fredrik Åkesson, otherwise known as Sweden's XL version of Napo Orso Capo.

Four quick hits of the hi-hat and The Devil's Orchard literally overwhelms us. The audience's response is incredible, everyone sings at the top of their lungs, us included. I Feel the Dark follows and, once again, the audience is there. It's amazing the power that the tracks from Heritage acquire live, an album that's fairly "light" by the standards the band has accustomed us to. After this effective pairing, that brass-faced Åkerfeldt begins to offer the audience delirious speeches, in which he mocks:

1. Italy (Italy is a fantastic place to live in, especially considering its food, wine, beautiful women, pornography... or I've found out I have a renewed interest in Italian music: you guys have such amazing musicians, just like Eros Ramazzotti)
2. The band members (Martin Mendez looks like the lovechild of Ian Hill of Judas Priest and Axe is the lovechild of Tom Selleck and Sebastian Bach)
3. The audience itself! (like when he treats us like ignorants: This is an electric guitar. The lowest string is tuned to D instead of standard E... or These are acoustic guitars and sound like this...)

After a few minutes of unrestricted nonsense, the arpeggiating Mikael kicks off a classic, Face of Melinda, one of the most beautiful moments of the entire evening, closely followed by the dark Porcelain Heart, enriched (or deteriorated, you decide) by a questionable solo from Axe. Mike says he wants to test our faith and here comes how they transport us to fusion territories with Nepenthe, in my view the best of the entire evening.

Out go the electric guitars, it's time for the brief acoustic set: The Throat of Winter, Credence, and Closure in quick succession. After shedding their folk guise, they gift us with the last electric pearls: from the brash Slither, passing through a touching A Fair Judgement almost doom in the finale to the majestic Hex Omega, which ends the concert brilliantly... but it certainly can't end like this! There's still time for Mike's final rants and the sleight of hand of rookie Joakim, who must have grown up on a diet of bread and Jon Lord, judging by how he handles the Hammond; and here comes the encore: Folklore. I've already said that I consider it the least successful track of Heritage, luckily the live involvement is great, and the song passes without too many problems, if only it weren't the last! Mikael, Fredrik, Joakim, and the two Martins say goodbye to the audience and leave, taking with them the magic that only their music can convey.

Post-concert considerations

For being the first time I went to a "serious" concert, I must say it was positive, although something left me a bit puzzled. Nothing to say about PoS: very good, energetic, and with a nearly perfect sound, which, unfortunately, can't be said for Opeth, as sometimes Mendez's bass was too strong. Okay, okay, it's just a matter of balancing details, but they affect in their own way. The setlist didn't torment me too much, to be honest, and let's be clear: internet era + money is never enough = I did preliminary research to ensure it wasn't a rip-off. Certainly, even loving all of Åkerfeldt's work, I found some choices rather questionable, as well as the idea to completely dismiss growls: assuming they intended to make a growlless show, classics like Windowpane or Harvest would have fit in perfectly, and if they really wanted to dust off less overused songs, Benighted and Atonement were there waiting for them.

The Italian audience is always the Italian audience (and when considering the circle of metalheads...): not very used to changes, it showed a bit of lukewarmness towards songs like the dark The Throat of Winter and the atypical Nepenthe. It wasn't uncommon to hear shouts like "deliverance!" or "master's apprentices!", all accompanied by rather fanciful pronunciations. Yes, English is the bugbear of the average Italian, and often Åkerfeldt's jokes were followed by an embarrassing silence (like when he said "Red is a fucking ugly color!"). It's equally true that the frontman, on his part, said too much nonsense: that evening he insisted on the term "lovechild" (Steven Wilson taught him), and the jokes about Ramazzotti, too bad for the one about Pasolini, which in my opinion was avoidable and lame. And it's a shame to see the pompous Åkerfeldt declaiming on stage with the manner of a Marchese del Grillo: where did the good-natured Swedish chap we knew go?

In conclusion

A nice concert, nothing to say, not unforgettable, but still remarkable.

Kudos to Alcatraz: simple and quite spacious, applause to the wardrobe ladies.