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Rating: It's raining outside, but I'll notice later. The stage is adorned with a glittering drum set, a microphone stand, and a guitar case. A small girl enters, with a dark bob haircut and a shy and restless look. She puts down a big shiny orange bag and runs away. A few minutes later she returns, leans toward the microphone, her eyes on the dim light in front of her, and whispers: "I'm Scout Niblett." She lets the words settle on us. Silence responds to her, so she begins, bare and without further preambles.
It's just her, voice and guitar, velvet on vibrating strings. After two songs, a tall, very thin individual with disheveled hair and a ravaged face, with protruding teeth, peeks onto the stage. Imagine what would happen if Buffon, the soccer goalkeeper, were vampirized and forced to a blood abstinence for a while. The impression is certainly confirmed by the amusing drumstick case he carries with him: a miniature coffin (!!). He sits on his stool, avoids introducing himself (if he did, he would say "Todd Trainer" and someone might add "ex-Shellac"), looks at the audience with a manic smile, then begins to sway slightly, gets in sync, and finally starts like a mad puppet (finally) activated. Todd pounds on the drums as if he needed to destroy them, strikes the bass drum as if it were the last obstacle for survival. With the cymbals, he seems more tender: when he really has to, he prefers to touch them with the tips of the sticks, sliding them from the central area to the edge. Each stroke is a run-up from the sidereal distances of his outstretched arms to the skin still trembling from the previous impact.
I finally understand what "ear-splitting" means.
I also start to get an idea of what a part of the Addams family might be like live. And the concert sets sail.
Scout Niblett is an English girl, real name Emma Louise Niblett, currently emigrated to California. She defines herself as an astrologer. The title of her latest work, "Kidnapped by Neptune," refers precisely to the effects of the planet Neptune, which seems to dissolve people's egos and has recently had a significant influence on her life (really!). She has a real passion for wigs, which has led her to tread almost everywhere with a fake blonde mane. Unfortunately, and here the circle perfidiously closes, during a photo shoot by the ocean (I suppose precisely on the occasion of the last CD) a particularly malignant wave stole her customary "blonde wig," forcing her to do without it for the subsequent concerts. As one might say in these cases: "Kidnapped by Neptune," exactly, even if it is another Neptune.
Scout's concert is a strange and primordial experience. Moody songs, which become repetitive and alluring, then stop and resume nervously, explode in violent and shouted moments, or conversely resolve by slowing down, suddenly tired. A childish, hysterical, unpredictable Cat Power, a voice that can be sensual and gains in "smokiness" and charm live.
She whispers, murmurs, winks then screams and growls.
The guitar, the drums, both played in the simplest possible way, as rough as possible: in this sense, Todd perfectly interprets his part as an (obligatory) rough companion beyond the terrifying decibel contribution. Single moments for a ritual: "Where Are You?", splendidly for guitar and voice alone; a "Hot To Death" that builds up in its "metal" tail; “Lullaby For Scout In 10 Years” with Honey shouted wide open, teeth bared and all the breath Emma is capable of; “Wolfie” with its hesitant and frenzied gait; the wild/sensual alternation of “Good To Me”; the splendid, dreamy, and relentless “No-Ones Wrong (Giricocola)”; the nursery rhyme among distorted walls of “Drummer Boy.” There's also room for Scout the drummer, with “Your Beat Kick Back Like Death” (that delicious "we're gonna die" hummed…) and “Pom Poms” (first part only guitar, second only drums: practically the two possible song forms according to Niblett).
Everything approached as a child would in a room full of toys: concentration and the desire to move to the next amusement, almost without pauses. Except for the practically necessary wine supply (approached with a sweet mischievous giggle), a funny and incomprehensible skit between the two who decide to mock each other in their mother tongue (no one understands), Todd's request for someone to admire Bernini with him, or the two questions “Is there any question?” that teacher Niblett asks the audience (question about what?).
Everything ends, sooner or later, even this merry-go-round of little hysterical tales. I wouldn't know what time it is. Scout quickly says goodbye, Todd emerges from the drums and gulps “Grazie… ciao” spreading his big arms. Then they fly away. The fact that time passed so quickly, the fact that I have an idiotic smile on my face, speaks volumes about my enjoyment of the evening. It's stopped raining outside, but I haven't noticed it yet.
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