Supertramp
Paris

THE REVIEW

It was recorded on tape by a high school classmate of mine, complete with a dedication: "Smack, Simo," a tape I'm still very fond of. The intro of School on the original vinyl was scratched and produced five or six "stocks" while beneath the harmonica opened the show. The absence of the stocks on mp3 still feels like something's amiss. The same sense of disorientation felt with the opening of Crazy diamond, where the stocks are countless.

Anyway, "Bonsuar Parì e benvenù a la suaré de Supertrem." Oh, let's be clear, these guys are nothing transcendental, of whom I thought Hodgson was the bassist, only to find out he wasn't, but on the first or second album I swear it was written Roger Hodgson bass guitar. Hodgson, as a singer I mean, I've always liked more than Davies, with that voice reminiscent of a Bi Gis castoff type who I am, who I am, who I aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmortacci tua how high you go.

Coming to the album in question, a nice live, for those who don't know them at all it's a good opportunity to embrace all their best production, considering that soon after the two minds of the group would split. I modestly believe that, apart from the most famous songs, like the mentioned breakfast, the logical song, those that all revival radios play, the music of these gentlemen should be considered by this music-loving community, especially the younger ones, because they are, it's true, little songs, often mawkish and mellifluous, but they all have the common denominator of refinement and intelligence: the lyrics are refined, the melodies are refined, the choice and use of instruments are refined, just as smart and balanced are the four (or five, six?) in putting everything together in the shaker and creating a cocktail that never smudges.

The result is true pearls: Hide in your shell, in my view one of the absolute peaks of their production, the extraordinary ending of From now on, the carefree sweetness of You started laughing, the whispered Two of us, the light-hearted Dreamer, the futuristic Fool's overture, the melancholic Take the long way home.

Live, unlike other (and more celebrated) bands, they bring out their best. Their studio recordings sometimes sound dusty, stale, often cloying, like a dollhouse, while in the open air (maybe it's the magical air of Paris) the songs breathe, unfold, expand, fill the space, take shape and matter. And the paradox is that the stylistic perfection of the musicians is such that if you removed the audience's roars, you'd think it's a studio recording.

Who knows why certain bands, although deserving from an artistic point of view, after years no one pays attention to them anymore. They simply disappear. Maybe because these guys, throughout their career, have done nothing but produce simple songs with extreme skill and care. Easy-to-listen songs, maybe too easy. Someone used to say that if the poet struggles, the reader won't. I think the saying fits perfectly with Davies and company.

Happy 2008 to everyone.