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Rating: Parental Advisory: Explicit Emotions
Here I am, a few days after the concert, trying to gather my thoughts to write something about it. It proves to be a nearly futile effort. Emotions keep rolling inside me. So, I surrender to my senses, which might be the only wise thing to do in these cases because the need to tell the story is becoming overwhelming. It's like keeping a piece of good news inside you, waiting for the right moment to share it with a friend, feeling the joy rise within you, giving sensations similar to the first sip of Coca-Cola that hits your nose.
I'm sitting in the office, small things and a bit of my usual chaotic mess in front of me. Within me, images and music from an evening full of passion. The reservation for the evening has been made for months, since November when, with an excited email, a friend, late at night, informed me that she had seen the theater's program and had instantly booked our seats. Our two little lights were the only ones on the reservation chart for months. Occasionally, I'd go there to see my little light, and I could already imagine myself sitting in that place unknown to me. And I was already feeling emotional.
The days from November to January were suspended in this anticipation, occasionally interrupted by conversations with: "There are still x days left until January 19th" The year ended with photos from December concerts, and the hunger was fueled by tales from friends who had seen them. I haven't seen a Benvegnù concert since summer. The anticipation is significant; this man generates strange dependencies : ) That's how the days slowly slipped one over the other, motionless in this strange winter without cold, almost protecting the last warmth I felt on that summer night, him with the red tie and me with my sequined slippers. My day is frantic, but I am rather disconnected from events. My inner self is already tuned to my emotions. I went home, got dressed, and packed my bag. The camera with the new lens, bought specifically for this occasion. The extra batteries, just in case. A small notebook that couldn't not be destined for this evening, my hat, scarf, and gloves. Yes, I realize they aren't needed these days, but you never know. I feel excited in a way I haven't for months. I can hardly stop smiling.
Finally, my friends arrive and we set off for Monte San Savino. The car ride embraced by the darkness and drowned in chatter. We grab a bite to eat, and I seize the poster, even though this time it's not a real poster snatch since I asked the venue's owner for permission before taking the event's poster off the wall, who honestly looked at me with a bit of confusion. No, I'm not crazy, just methodical in preserving my emotions. We arrive at the theater, and our seats await us.
The theater is a small masterpiece. It looks like a music box. Like those replicas of antique carousels where everything is identical but miniature. The theater is like that. So small and perfect that you wonder if you're Alice in Wonderland. Shrunk. I sit in my seat. Front row, center seat. The most central of the whole theater. The furthest front of the entire theater. I lay out my things in front of me. The lenses, the bag. My chaos inside Wonderland. I don't even know what's about to happen to me. The first spinning of the evening is just a step away from me. My friend gently calls me, pulls out a little bag with fairies, and hands it to me. I reach inside, and a moment later, I find myself inside the Teatro di Monte San Savino with a photo I took. One of my favorites of Benvegnù. Taken in San Sepolcro about a year ago. I believe it's even the first time I've seen one of my photos framed. This is so strange and beautiful that it leaves me speechless. I don't even have time to recover when the lights dim, and my magic chair swallows me. I couldn’t tell you how many people were there or anything else. It was just me in the theater. I didn't notice anything else.
The curtains open, and they are already on stage, silhouetted against the blue background. It takes me a second to realize that the stage represents a ship adrift. The concert begins with a song by Domenico Modugno "Cosa sono le Nuvole". I happened to hear it at the Creativity Festival sung by Servillo, but here it's different. Paolo's voice makes it much sweeter, if I may say, much more akin to a version by Bollani. A beautiful way to introduce a concert by immediately setting a precise tone on the only theme addressed. Love, passion, but understood in a romantic, not syrupy sense. Love understood as total involvement of every sensation, for better or worse. A quick change of light, and they start playing "La Distanza", which I've had the opportunity to hear live on various occasions, followed by "La Schiena". He is impeccably dressed, as per his style. An ice suit with a grey tie. His hair, which has grown longer, is a bit tousled. He carries himself with the elegance of a 19th-century man. They play a gentle "Cerchi nell'Acqua" and then the first of the new songs I hear tonight: "La Peste". But don't ask me anything because my memory devoured this one.
When they start "Il Mare Verticale", I can feel the memories of past winters on my skin when this song brought words and feelings. Like when you see a friend you haven't met in a long time, and in a moment, all the adventures you've experienced together come to mind. A very narrow road with the fear of hitting the car against the walls. The silence of certain rainy days looking at the sky raining down through the window. This text brings everything back to my skin. I keep watching him through the lens in the foreground. At times, it seems he looks directly, crossing my hidden eye. I can't help but snap. I want to preserve every moment of this evening. It's time for "Quando passa lei". And right after, the second new one of the night: "Il nemico". He doesn’t talk between tracks. Just enough time to catch his breath, and off with "Suggestionabili" in a fast-paced version that I love. These are hypnotic moments, I think. My view is unobstructed by anything; I can't talk to anyone or even understand. I'm there alone in the dark, at the mercy of sensations. I feel like I might burst. I can only feel happy to be here and, at the same time, feel as if I'm dying.
Then "Il Sentimento delle Cose" starts, the text I prefer in the whole album. Just hearing the intro is enough for me, and I feel the urge to get up. Sitting with this song becomes quite difficult. I strain to listen only to the bass, which I really like in this piece. I watch Luca's hands through the lens. The notes of "E' solo un sogno" rock me. At the end of the song, he raises his face to the sky. I capture it in one of my favorite photos of the evening. The blue background. I'm deeply in love with this song's guitar. Then comes "Hungry & Thirsty" , where the cheese on the macaroni surprisingly comes in. But perhaps the text changes each time, and I hadn't noticed. . Who knows. Then it's time for "Io e Te". And right after, finally, "Marzo, Tredici". Here I manage to remember I have a notebook; my mind is lost and wandering in the theater corridors [I think], fluttering merrily. I note down: "Le finestre chiudono la polvere dell'esistenza, solo 4 muri per nascondersi".
The first half ends with "Nel silenzio". I turn and look at my friend's terrified eyes. And I: "no tranquilla... ritornano". From here on, I don't have a fixed chronological order in mind. Yes, I have to confess. Because, if I remember more or less what I've described up to now, I know that from here on, I can't say whether what happened when they weren't singing happened before or after something. In reality, at this point, something happened to which my young and trembling soul is not yet [fortunately] accustomed. To explain the feelings experienced in these moments, one would need to be a person "accustomed to the sea." Because I think only the swaying produced by the waves on the body can describe the ups and downs of emotions one experiences during his concerts. I don't quite understand how this man manages to do these things, but I find myself in a theater feeling as if I'm at sea. Like when the waves lift you, then let you fall down, shifting every single organ, only to return it to its place, just to shift it again a second later. And my emotions, already teetering, spurred by so many songs listened to, ultimately plummeted to the bottom of the wave when they staged one of their inevitable surreal cabaret moments.
I seem to have seen Luca kicking with the bass around his neck, at some point Guglielmo turned the theater into the hypermarket of Arezzo. And Andrea was speaking Swedish, which perhaps was Chinese. And Paolo?? I didn’t understand what exactly Omar Pedrini did to him, but I can tell you that if you get a chance, make him do the imitation of Pelù, or Zucchero, or Vasco, or whom I don't even remember. I just know I've never laughed so much. I just know I've never laughed so much at a concert. Amid all this, I’m not sure how or when, but they played: "Molto Lontano"(never heard live before. . very beautiful) "In dissolvenza" (I prefer it with distorted guitars? There's nothing I can do. .) "Simmetrie" (simmetrie with him alone and then all the others joining...) "Catherine" (the last little piece of my heart must have exploded here. .) Then they leave again, and when they return, it's time for "Troppo poco intelligente", which has now become something indescribable, especially Paolo's face when he pretends to be surprised seeing Luca. We've gone beyond surrealism into something not yet labeled.
The concert closes with "Rosmery Plexiglas". The concert concludes... and for two hours, I was truly a castaway at the mercy of love and passion. That passion and love that I feel so intensely within me, only for those who know how to share my vulnerabilities. And I find myself reflecting on the importance of sensitivity in life. I find myself thinking that my way of feeling so defenseless in the face of certain feelings leads me to experience them very privately, showing parts of me only to a few, but at the same time, I know that this is the only way I know to love myself. I think about how beautiful it is to look someone in the eyes when you know this person can see inside you. Words said and listened to acquire even greater importance. Those moments made of nothing gain value. The shared passion gains absolute value. And I feel defenseless but at the same time rich. And I feel this is the greatest thing I have. You. The love I feel for you is the only virtue I'm proud to possess.
And at the same time, I wish I could do what this man does with apparent ease. Because I believe it takes a lot of courage to unconditionally show one's vulnerabilities... I believe that if one day I manage to do it, I can truly consider myself a completely free person.
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