Rage Against the Machine
Live in Modena

More than a concert, the show on June 14 in Modena was an event of gigantic proportions. The return to Italy of a beloved and mourned band, which many thought was just a memory captured in four historic albums and, for some lucky ones, a devastating force observed in action 8 years ago when they were the biggest reality in cross-over and alternative rock worldwide, at the peak of their career, moving massive crowds in every corner of the world they performed: Rage Against The Machine.

It seems as if the eight-year gap never existed once the day of June 14 is over. The massive crowd is there, and it's as numerous as the population of my small provincial town; the classics, some of which are sixteen years old, are welcomed with tremendous roars, and the additional eight years for these no longer young Californians are not felt at all: only noticeable in the absence of dreadlocks in the hair (now curly) of Zack De La Rocha, and in the more lined faces of Tim Commenford and Brad Wilk, but otherwise they are the same as always, from the guitars (and hat) used by Tom to the giant red star present as a backdrop.

The day of June 14 starts with heavy rain and a lot of people crowded into the small station, all with t-shirts, hats, pins, or patches featuring the band, which in a few hours will set the Braglia stadium on fire. In the early afternoon, many groups roam the stadium area, gradually joining the immense crowd waiting for the gates to open. Once inside the stadium, one realizes what they are about to experience: there is a gigantic stage with an enormous lighting system, stands that gradually fill up, and a field that, for everyone present, becomes increasingly tighter. At 7:30 PM, Linea 77 takes the stage, but they perform few songs, many from the latest album, neglecting the early works and not fully exciting the audience, despite a good and energetic performance. The next group, the Gallows, performed worse, unknown to the Italians and the makers of drab new-school hardcore with rare (and horrendous) bursts of metalcore.

After the second opening act finishes, the audience begins to lose patience from the wait, as soon as Morello and Commenford's amplifiers are uncovered, a roar echoes throughout the Braglia stadium, but it will still be another half hour before a military siren sound announces the presence of four men on stage, standing side by side in orange jumpsuits and black hoods, like Guantanamo prisoners, motionless amidst the enthusiastic screams of the crowd. Two roadies place a familiar gray guitar inscribed with "Arm the Homeless" in red into the hands of one hooded figure, a Fender bass into another, the third hooded figure steps back behind the drums, the last remains motionless, arms behind his back, and the opening riff of Bombtrack starts, the screams of the crowd are at their peak of intensity, gradually the drums kick in, and by the attack, nothing can be understood anymore, people fly right, left, fall, push, an uncontrollable sea of people traveling from one side to the other of the field shaken by the power of the Californians' sound wonderfully amplified by powerful and gigantic boxes.

Once the suits and hoods are removed, it's time for Bulls on Parade, a classic of classics, followed by People of The Sun, Testify, and Know Your Enemy, accompanied by extremely intense moshing, with the band seeming in better form than ever and especially a frightening Tom Morello, who, despite being the oldest member of the group, spares no jumps and frantic strumming, soloing standing on the monitors then jumping back onto the stage, just as Zack De La Rocha immediately appears to be in a great mood, rapping wonderfully and moving like a madman, screaming as if he were twenty, and stylishly reinterprets many parts of his songs. 

The setlist continues swiftly with classic hits, ovations for Tom Morello's solos and for the bass-drum duets and Zack's political-social statements. Down Rodeo is the least aggressive song (and among the top five) of the repertoire, accompanied by the constant up and down of the 22,000 heads present, then gradually come out Bullet in The Head, where the mosh becomes dangerous, Calm Like A Bomb, Sleep Now In The Fire (probably among the most moshed), in which the central part was greatly extended, Guerrilla Radio, Renegades Of Funk, the most "danceable", played with new changes made by the band, Born of A Broken Man and the well-applauded Wake Up, with Zack De La Rocha's political speech at the end against Bush and Berlusconi, urging the Italian population to wake up. The band takes a small break, the audience remains still awaiting their return, and then the highly anticipated Freedom begins, continued with a medley of Township Rebellion. After that, the grand finale is entrusted to the sharp riffs of Killing in The Name, which literally drives the crowd wild, and it's a true spectacle to see even the tumultuous stands from the field until the final riff, after which Tom Morello takes off his black Fender Telecaster and throws it away on stage, the four hug and smile at the crowd, wave goodbye, and indulge in thousands of flashes lighting up every corner of the stadium.

It's certainly a pity for songs like War Within A Breath, No Shelter, The Ghost Of Tom Joad, How I Could Just Kill A Man, and I'm Housin, which would have enriched the already phenomenal setlist but were unjustly excluded, but all is forgiven, because the show was long, the songs were extended with new changes and stretched passages, demonstrating the group's skill in reinterpreting itself and the obvious superiority over the myriad of clone and "crossover" bands that have followed since 2000, contributing to saturating a genre that, thanks in particular to Rage Against The Machine, had gained ground in the music world.

In short, a unique experience, to be lived fully, an extraordinary show, because seeing such energy and passion in four people of an age not exactly boy band material means being able to officially say you have seen Rage Against The Machine live, the best band of the '90s, the most lamented since 2000, and not a poor copy reunited only for commercial reasons.

Let's hope Zack De La Rocha has finally learned the lesson.