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Rating:
East Stand of the Stadio Euganeo. There is a good sixty meters between me and the stage; of open spaces and staircases and openings in the concrete, moreover: thus a disastrous acoustics. I didn't hear what I wanted; but I'll tell it anyway.
The concert opens with Feeder, and it's clear they know what they're doing, but their fast melodic rock is nothing new. At a certain point, I hear a riff – just one – that strikes me, but right after I could already go back to singing Green Day. Oh well.
Sound technicians on stage and after about twenty minutes, finally, it begins.
Sparklehorse enters, or rather Sparklehorse enters. Mark Linkous comes in (with some musicians he chooses from time to time) and I get goosebumps despite the unbearable heat. He and his guitar – after some cable issues and a mild insult to the operator – immediately gift me with Saturday, a gem that encapsulates everything about them.
The subtle voice (my favorite of all), the simple loops, the sparse yet organic style, the delicately dirty sounds, the absurd lyrics of a crazy American countryman, and a melancholic sweetness that melts me ("You are / A car / You are / A hospital / I’d walk to hell and back / To see you smile / On Saturday").
I can't hear well at all, but after all, even on their CDs the quality is often deliberately and skillfully artisanal. As in Happy Man: in the grooves of the album (Good Morning Spider, the second of the three), it is buried under layers of noise and disturbances, as if you were listening to it on the radio and couldn't find the right frequency. Live, the same: you sense the beautiful melody and want to understand it, but you can't, except when in the chorus the affected voice explains to you that "All I want is to be a happy man," and a strange schizophrenic solo emphasizes the concept.
Sparklehorse is this: warm sounds both in slow songs (the beautiful Gold Day where the album's keyboard carpet is replaced by an arpeggio) and in the rare aggressive pieces where the guitar becomes sharp (see the thunderous, messy, compelling Tears on Fresh Fruit – what a title! – with which Mark leaves us after alas only nine songs).
A mention must finally be made of R.E.M., closing the concert. They repeat themselves endlessly but make some wonderful songs, and the singer Michael Stipe's voice is beautiful, melancholy inside.
P.S. I was surprised that Sparklehorse attracted all those people: they filled the stadium. Even Mark Linkous himself said he was "freaked out" because it was the first time he played in front of so many people.
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