I searched the dictionary for the term intimacy and among the nuances of its meanings I find the following definition: “...Sometimes it refers rather to environments where one is among intimate people, among family, or where one feels perfectly free and at ease, far from any prying eyes of strangers.”
Well, if I had to encapsulate Robin Proper Sheppard's first live streaming show with a single word, the most accurate one that encompasses all others to follow is intimate.
A concert for a few, almost whispered; each in their own home with the freedom to be themselves, away from noise, away from neighbors, away from strangers.
We were about five hundred, connected from all over the world and the emotion was strong; simple but genuine, true, without artifices.
At exactly four in the afternoon on Saturday, while wandering around my desk to finish a task, I check my email and find the bandcamp notice on the Sophia page, reminding me that there's time until 5:00 PM to buy a ticket for Robin Proper Sheppard's first Living Room live stream, alias Sophia, starting at 8:00 PM. Ten euros to attend the first of a series of acoustic streaming concerts by the former God Machine, today live from Berlin. Yes, I had read about the initiative days ago, but it had slipped to the bottom of the myriad of other things to handle that day and was dismissed with a procrastinating "I'llthinkaboutit" all stuck together so it's faster and I get back to what I was doing. And, just like that, I had totally forgotten it.
I have an hour to think about it, but then I say to myself: what do you plan to do at 8:00 PM tonight? Do you think you have appointments? Did you want to go out to dinner by any chance? Maybe it was a good night for family Monopoly? Nah!! none of that, no commitments, just dinner to prepare but since I am the undisputed king of the stove I don’t worry, I had already planned the menu: a nice Pasta alla Gricia will set the stage for the evening. Said and done, I get the ticket and the game is on.
Remember, the guanciale must be browned in the non-stick pan without any added oil, onion, or any other ingredient that would be truly redundant. Once the fat has melted and just before the pasta is done, add some of the boiling water to the pan to form a delightful creamy sauce into which you toss the pasta for its final minute of cooking, along with pepper and abundant Pecorino Romano. Yes, here it must be the Roman kind and the Sardinian one goes in pesto. No ifs or buts!
By 7:30 PM the television (recently made smart by a diabolical stick placed in its HDMI rear) is tuned to the channel and like all proper concerts, the pre-concert music begins to hover...
The frame reveals a basic setup; a black wave drape serves as a backdrop to a central wooden bench on which two desk lamps are affixed, the classic ones with a clamp, a table on the left with a large illuminated glass bowl containing an unspecified white material, and on the right forefront a microphone, one of those old-style fifties ones.
At the table, the gricia is finished, and in anticipation, we sip a lovely red Syrah from Taranto, perhaps just a tad cool in temperature, but enjoyable to drink.
Oh! I would never have expected the background to feature Sleaford Mods with their latest Mork n Mindy Ft. Billy Nomates, in truth the only song I know... And I don't even have time to think about it before the background music ends and after a few moments, Robin enters the frame, places a beer on the bench, gives the camera a quick nod, exits the frame, and returns with his trusty acoustic guitar and begins.
He starts speaking openly, he's emotional, and it's perceived. But also bewildered by the situation. However, he is himself, as always, without filters, consistent to the last thought and honest, perhaps a bit awkward at first but I assure you that when he grips the guitar, after breaking the ice with a long verbal intro, the notes sound good and deep. Yes, deep is the appropriate term because here you're digging, digging in search of lost emotions, indelible memories, positive vibrations.
It's strange to see him on TV. If you abstract for a second and think that on that same screen just yesterday there was skiing, you might ask yourself: what the heck is the singer of the band of your heart doing there, the one you even went to seek out to meet as a twenty-year-old in London, obtaining a fanciful address of some recording studio found on a CD, dragging against her will your then girlfriend on a treasure hunt that yielded nothing (except being dumped upon returning from interrailing..). So what is Robin Proper Sheppard doing there after the news in the cathode tube box, as if he were any Giorgino?
The absurd questions flee after two notes; the warmth of the sound envelops the living room and for a moment it's just me and him. Robin sings with his eyes closed, and I watch him, sitting on the couch basking in the situation; strange but idyllic, despite this general crappy situation that made what I was enjoying possible!
"Dad, is he singing right now, I mean at this moment?” my kids ask, captivated by the TV, and I'm sure they like the idea of a distant concert even though deep down they would love to watch yet another Geronimo Stilton...!
The concert goes on for about an hour and a half and Robin, always bent over his guitar and almost constantly with eyes closed, as if seeking concentration, plays one hit after another from his repertoire, even pulling from the debut "Fixed Water" like a sort of Best of, to gift to his closest friends, here his family in front of a beach bonfire.
And after every song, applause erupts in the living room; it feels a bit sad to say it, even more to think it, but it's the only tangible way left for me to gratify the execution of each piece sung with the heart even more than with guitar and voice. I am grateful, and I must let him know.
Robin takes a break and the female part of the house paces around the living room.
No problem, said and done: my son and I catapult into the dark room, and with him sitting on my lap, we enjoy the end of the concert, with the volume of the portable Bose vibrating perfectly to the wonderful "The River" and with the last six songs closing this unusual open-heart concert, of great intensity despite the non-presence.
Completely superfluous and useless to remind you that the gricia was superb.
https://youtu.be/dDL3FWjc874
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