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Rating: Rock in Rome, after last year's disaster with Metallica, where it felt like only the local mafia was missing asking for protection money, this time saves face: they opened an extra parking lot, the audience is quite well managed, there are even turnstiles at the entrance to scan the ticket, like in the subway. Furthermore, money is exchanged for tokens, thus avoiding unpleasant queues at the various stands. These are no longer in the middle of the crowd, but distributed on the sides of the arena. Extremely small arena (we are a few thousand people), extremely fenced, the stage as usual positioned near the entrance (but why?) and then there it is: The Golden Pit. The greatest nonsense of recent years. The death of romance. But that is another story.
Ready, set, go! It begins... to rain. Yes, heavily. And to brighten up this first soaking wet hour of the concert, there are the Temperance, and it immediately feels like May 1st. Yes, May 1st... because the Italian power metal band, called at the last moment to replace King 810, is the typical group that could open the concert at Piazza San Giovanni. Melodic, manipulative, unnecessary and inappropriate (what the hell are they doing before At The Gates?), yet humble and fun. They put you in a good mood, let's say. If the carrot-haired singer didn't start headbanging and the second guitarist didn't occasionally throw in some furious growls, they could easily be mistaken for Aqua. The audience seems to appreciate it. The big choruses are perfect to warm up the kids a bit. In front of me, there are two young girls holding hands and giving each other kisses. How cute.
The rain visibly decreases and the Nightwish de noantri make way for the banners of At The Gates, a band that seems unknown to most, yet they are the reason I am there, what a life. A good half hour later and the Göteborg killers take the stage. The sound isn't exceptional but the band is in great shape. Tompa, the frontman, is charismatic and powerful, his abrasive screaming (unchanged since '95) a trademark. A piece from the latest album and then they start rolling out the classics from the unforgettable "Slaughter of the Soul," a masterpiece of the genre. The people don't know them, but they have fun. I am as excited as a young girl. "Cold" is a hammer, "Suicide Nation" a shot to the head... "Blinded by Fear" is the worthy bone-crushing conclusion to a spine-tingling set. Now I can finally go to the bathroom.
The audience bleeds the red of the Slipknot logo, no doubt, there are even cosplayers, but the atmosphere is very relaxed: some smoke a cigarette, some go grab a beer, there are even moms and dads with backpacks, purses, and counter bags chatting quietly behind me, very much like a neighborhood party concert. Zero crowds and smiling faces. After almost 40 minutes though, someone starts getting bored and calls out loudly for their favorites. They don't need to be asked twice, and here comes an imposing set design with a giant head somewhere between that of a devil and a goat accompanying the entrance of the six lunatics from Des Moines. There are more iPhones and tablets in the air than oxygen molecules.
Masks change, but Corey still has the voice of the good times of the past, Mick grinds riffs like a tank, the DJ goofs around, and the percussionists, fixed on super cool mobile platforms that rise and fall, are still the comic line of the group. Sure, Paul Grey and Joy Jordison are no longer there (and unfortunately we will never have the chance to see the first again) but the replacements are just as good. The sound this time is perfect. A piece from the latest album (which I haven't heard) and then the unmistakable countdown of Heretic Anthem. And everything comes down. The setlist is quite varied, rich in classics, from Spit it Out (where the hilarious game of sitting on the ground and jumping in the air at Taylor's "Jumpdafuckup" wasn't missing) to Before I Forget, passing through Duality and Vermillion, which I've never really appreciated much, but oh well. Corey is an animal on stage, and we knew this... furthermore, he is very kind to the audience (I fucking love you all, you are amazing, etc.) and speaks excellent Italian. The Italian word he seems to appreciate the most is "Porco D**". A shockingly beautiful triple set (Sic - People = Shit - Surfacing) concludes a monumental concert, like the set design that is then slowly dismantled piece by piece by the technicians. You go home happy and satisfied. It was the first time the Slipknot crossed the thresholds of the eternal city. Corey has promised they will return. And I will be there waiting for them.
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