I can do it, I must do it; it was incredibly tough to digest and handle the news of Chris Cornell's passing.
I loved Soundgarden fiercely in the nineties; a visceral love thanks to at least three albums, the first ones, which I tattooed into my blood, mind, and spirit. I've thought a lot in these hectic days about how to remember them.
Today I reached the place of my avatar; a natural plateau over 1200 meters high, in the upper Val Bognanco, surrounded by immense and silent peaks. Still covered in snow. I cried thinking of a Temple Of The Dog song that spoke of Heaven. I closed my eyes: doubts, fears disappeared. And I decided: my only time with Soundgarden live; there were no other opportunities.
Enough with the introductions; I go back in time to recount a concert experienced in the front row, as I always did. Okay, here we go...
Soundgarden at the Stadio delle Alpi in Turin; it's the day of my twenty-fifth birthday.
Ticket purchased in Milan, in that place of worship that was "Mariposa Duomo" for so many years (I left a fortune there in lire; money well spent always). A few days before the event, I had an accident with my white UNO; a friend lent me his car to get to the concert: a Fiat Regata that couldn’t have been more flashy. Full of scratches and dents due to the amusing and "alcolemic" driving of my friend. Luckily breathalyzers didn't exist in the early nineties: we would have lost hundreds of points on our licenses!!
I leave home in the morning; a couple of hours' drive. That almost doubles because the highway cafés, gas stations, and toll booths on the Milan-Turin route are clogged with thousands of kids, like me, heading to the Stadium. A veritable pilgrimage. It's hard to find parking: absolute chaos reigns, and the adrenaline is immediately skyrocketing. Before joining the queue at the field entrance, I buy a black t-shirt of the band. A crush, an indescribable mess at the entrances; oppressive heat pressing down on you. Shouting out Christs, Saints, and Madonnas at the top of our lungs; I pass the almost non-existent checks by the authorities and I'm inside. I run to get as close as possible to the immense stage and hold onto the barrier, which I won't release even to go to the bathroom!!; I immediately take off my t-shirt because the sun is scorching and unforgiving. I kill the wait with a few puffs of a joint offered to me by my neighbor.
5:30 pm there must be at least fifty thousand of us and it's time: Chris, Kim, Ben, and Matt are ready and only have thirty minutes; a long introduction allows our guys to take their places near their instruments; then the musical orgy can begin. The sound, as was very easy to expect, is terrible. Awful to say the least; most of the audience doesn't care about the band. They're there for the Guns; I'm here stamping my presence for Soundgarden who start the show with a very intense and super-psychedelic "Searching With My Good Eye Closed". But how cool was Chris with his long mane, with his shorts; he moves back and forth on the stage, rousing and seeking contact with those few spectators who are "trapped" by his voice. He looks like Jesus Christ, for crying out loud.
The crowd sways, the crush increases but I don't let go of the barrier; the sound remains crap. But it doesn't matter because one after the other come the atomic bombs, the colossal lashes of "Face Pollution", "Rusty Cage", "Outshined" and a concluding "Jesus Christ Pose". All songs taken from that sonic monolith titled Badmotorfinger. One of those albums that at regular intervals (let's say a couple of times a month) I still have to listen to. And I do since its release in the fall of 1991.
Fighting tooth and nail under the stage in these tumultuous minutes; a vicious mosh pit starts. I feel obliged to partake in the battle between sweaty and dirty bodies. Then suddenly the instruments are unplugged: thirty minutes they had, and thirty minutes they took. Those mixer bastards don't give us even a second more.
The band leaves the stage; I think I celebrated my birthday in a proper way. And I'm happy even if Soundgarden deserved a few more songs. With all that I've spent...
Soon after come Faith No More (another incredible performance); finally, it's the Guns' turn. I gradually move away from the stage and as soon as the concert ends, I rush to the parking, managing in no time to reach the ring road.
..............For a few minutes I've been searching for a catchy closing phrase; but I'm stuck. And so, I stop here, immediately going to watch the official video of "Outshined": which is always a lot... "Show me the power child I'd like to say, That I'm down on my knees today. It gives me the butterflies, Gives me away till I'm up on my feet again. I'm feeling outshined..."
To Serena.
Ad Maiora.
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