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Rating: “The waiting for pleasure is itself pleasure.”
No. Not even close to that.
Four years of regret for those tickets sold out too quickly; four years of biting your elbows for periodically watching on YouTube the missed concert in Ferrara in May 2011; four years of “[insert curse here], it turns out that he won't ever come back”.
And, indeed, there may not be much left of the exaggerated Sufjan Stevens – the one with grand projects, eccentric titles, disproportionate orchestral arrangements, the one with no half measures. He has stripped: he removed the shield of tight-fitting costumes, gotten rid of masks and fluorescent stickers, forgot the two-meter angel wings and left at home balloons, cracker snaps, streamers, rich prizes, and party favors. He has stripped himself bare on a beautiful album, Carrie & Lowell. And, just as bare (only metaphorically, unfortunately), he presents it in front of an audience of strangers eager with expectation, for whom he sings of death, of loss, of mourning.
After the intense Redford (For Yia-Yia and Pappou), which serves as an introduction, the protagonist of the concert is precisely Carrie & Lowell, presented in its entirety in random mode (only Blue Bucket of Gold will come later). Despite the album's recent release, the tracks surprise with their new arrangements: the superfluous has been removed and the necessary added, and the purest and most intimate folk alternates with electronic inserts and rock passages that manage to surprise even those who have listened to the album dozens of times.
The sequence of Drawn To The Blood, Eugene (which closes on that “What’s the point of singing songs, if they’ll never even hear you?”) and John My Beloved almost moves me to tears. Remarkable is also the new arrangement of All Of Me Wants All Of You which, from Elliott-Smith-ish, completely changes its face thanks to a driving drum, guitars reminiscent of OK Computer, and almost prog synth solos at the end. Less successful, however, is the live version of Fourth of July, which loses intensity compared to the beautiful song on the album.
The concert continues with recoveries from the past: the moving The Owl and the Tanager, from the underrated All Delighted People EP, is performed by Sufjan alone on the piano and contrasts with the electronics and crowded choirs of Vesuvius, which sends the audience into raptures.
After returning to the piano with My Blue Bucket of Gold, the first part of the concert concludes with a long, very long electronic outro: from the angelic and relaxing voices at the beginning, which have the merit of not letting the listener's tension drop, it increases in intensity, until it collapses at the end in an explosion of lights. And the audience stands up in a resounding applause for Sufjan and the incredibly talented band.
The return to the stage is inevitable, complete with a yellow cap and teenager's shirt. But it fools no one: Sufjan has grown and is at the peak of his maturity, he has passed the midlife point of forty and looks back, but without returning there. And his maturity also shines through the few words he addresses to the audience, the first ones since the concert began, in which he apologizes for the songs being too sad and reflects on life and death.
With electronic set aside, the acoustic finale draws heavily on five songs from the past, among which the beautiful For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti and Casimir Pulaski Day stand out. Even Chicago is no longer the festive and chaotic conclusion of the past and is given acoustically to a very composed audience that does not sing or clap but stands up for a second standing ovation at the end of the concert.
Special mention also goes to the lights, sober yet meticulous, different for each song, for example, at the end of Drawn to the Blood they seem to ask “How? How did this happen?”, seeking answers among the audience, with basses that make even your soul tremble in the perfect acoustics of the Teatro della Luna. Beautiful as well are the panels displaying suggestive images or childhood clips to emphasize the themes of the songs.
Without exaggerating, I can say it loud and clear: a memorable concert, emotional, far beyond my already high expectations. Four years of waiting were worth two hours of perfection.
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