•
Rating: Fuckin' rockin' & fuckin' rollin' on a mission from God.
KG and JB greet an almost sold-out and howling Forum (I didn't expect it, but I hoped for it) by entering a huge and purple giant vagina from where they had just come out for the two brief acoustic encores, now the catharsis is complete.
Here, I could stop here with this titillating snapshot printed in my head. But no, you deserve more, because there's nothing on TV tonight and because this onslaught of Beatles reviews has irritated me, so let's rewind the tape...
We're behind schedule, as usual, but we gladly thank the "God of Telepass" and the "cantanapoli" maneuver with which we mock a nice Km of queue at the Assago exit. Obviously amidst general discontent. Long story short, while we're wondering if it's possible to pay 6 euros for parking (they should have washed the car with that money), we climb the steps of the venue with the opening band trying their best to entertain a still-to-be-filled hall. There's time for a "Children Of The Sea" in piped music and then Jack Black and brother Kyle Gass wrapped in an improbable intermittent robe attack with "Rize Of The Phoenix" amid the clamor. No doubt when the giant winged penis (the mythical bird of fire, what else?) that stands behind them inflates, I convince myself of how little it takes to entertain people these days, but at the same time I put my brain on the nearest step and enjoy the concert to the best of my abilities. By the way. I'll spare you the setlist, but I can tell you that all the classic D songs are there, "Wonderboy", "Kielbasa", and of course "Tribute" mixed with gags and Jack Black's flying Kung-fu kicks, with the more recent ones from "Rize Of...". I would mention "Roadie" above all (finally some glory for them too).
I already know where you're going with this. The classic Tenacious D songs are nothing but nonsense where sooner or later the equally classic trio "Fuck-Suck-Cock" pops up, sung and mimed with every part of the body by the famous Jack and held up by the acoustic strumming of brotherly friend Kyle exploiting every possible cliché that the rock world has created. And think about it, because it's just like that but only on the surface. If you let yourself be carried away by the impetuosity of the strawberry river when you're high on hallucinogenic mushrooms, you'll understand that parody is just a façade of the show. The band behind them is as impressive as JB's (tremendous as it is consistent with the records) mighty voice. I really mean it, a singer with balls of steel! And anyone who disagrees is obviously just jealous of his sexual drive. And what about friend Kyle, fake shy chubby guy in oversized drawers and t-shirt, an outfit that has become a uniform like even good old Angus.
Tracks from "Pick Of Destiny" aren't neglected, loudly celebrated, they pass "Kickapoo" and company until they reach the inevitable "The Metal" and the thunder of "Beelzeboss" complete with a duel with the guitarist possessed by the demon. Enjoy it.
A little fluency in English is enough to fully enjoy a show (because that's what it is) as unique and cheeky as you want but so engaging that it pushes good Jack to repeatedly have to call back the front rows, urging them to stop the show, "Don't push I have a rock responsibility!" he says. For some critics, the former clerk from "High Fidelity" is the new Belushi, I just say that deep down he no longer acts from a long time ago and that what I saw tonight is simply a true one, who believes in it and only plays himself. A bit like Mickey Rourke in "The Wrestler", you wonder who's acting what and then you realize that deep down it's just been the most natural as possible. Ok, I'm biased, I adore Jack Black and his manifestation in every form, but where else do you find a band that at the yell of Rock is dead JAAAAZZZZ is back!!! plays a track like "Jazz" made just to get booed and insulted by everyone? For those who don't know, it's a fake track with Kyle playing the recorder (yes, the one from middle school), Jack singing "forty-five minutes non-stop jazz" over a slow Cotton Club-style background. Didn't get much of it, did you? Never leave your brain unattended, I'll have to note this among my notes.
Scattered notes: inflatable doll thrown in Jack's face, solo on toy sax (Saxaboom), flying condoms, awesome singing by Jack Black (but I think I already said this), plectrums of destiny thrown in the air, shootout with Superliquidator 50, horns and mega horns to the sky, giant penis deflating and showering the front rows with confetti, leaving room for the aforementioned vagina... Stop.
And it's a pity if a portion of the audience (those of Milan's high society, of the aperitif outside even if it's Tuesday evening, and of the iPhone to capture the possible and the impossible) are there also for the hype created around this Milanese date. The rest of the crew, and there are many, I repeat, are there to sing and... To put it their way, to rock with those who essentially saved rock. As far as I'm concerned, the concert was magnificent, people left satisfied, enjoying the company of two splendid jokers all smiles and rock'n'roll. And I, for one, wasn't asking for more.
The tape has already been rewound and with my feet already in the parking lot, I still have the promise of good Jack imprinted in my brain <
The D are back, on guard.
The opinion of Commendatore Bossolazzi:
The rock is rock and the roll is roll, mother of all clichés. Epic 5 medlars even to those who were there.
Loading comments slowly
