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Rating: Rudy Trouvé was the first guitarist of dEUS.
And he's here in front of me: watching the audience while bouncing, and shredding our eardrums with his noise yelps (and sometimes with a toy trumpet). Brown pinstripe suit, acid green shirt, crazy look.
Craig Ward was the second guitarist of dEUS.
And he's here in front of me: looking at the ceiling and caressing his guitar, obsessively banging it against anything in reach (microphone stand, cymbal, clarinet, plant, teaspoon). Drunkard's suit, white-stained shirt, crazy look.
Mauro Pawlowski is the current guitarist of dEUS.
And he's here in front of me: looking at nothing and with ironically haughty manner frantically moving on an essential drum set (kick, hi-hat, tom, snare, cymbal). Dark suit, indieblack shirt, crazy look.
There's also Bert Lenaerts, I'm not sure whose bassist he was, but he must be just as crazy to go along with those three and hold everything together when they (often and most willingly) go off on their own.
Instead, I'm here by chance (incomplete suit, blue shirt, Tullamore Dew gaze) and I'm not expecting anything. These are three guitarists from dEUS, no, I mean, three creative minds among the most fervent I know: even if they just did the soundcheck (um...) I'd be satisfied with the lucky evening.
And instead.
Exhilarating. Truly crazy. But not excessively constructed or excessive crazy - you know, we're on a stage, we put on a show, we flail around a bit... no, damn, these guys are really mentally ill.
I'm 80% sure of Mauro, who at one point in the midst of the clamor decides to get up, go to the bar counter of this Libertad bar (we're 50 in all), order a cappuccino and return to his seat to enjoy it, while the others - as if nothing happened - continue doing their duty (...).
90% sure of Rudy, who at one point, still shredding our eardrums, stands still for two minutes staring out of the window for no apparent reason, and then smiles to himself.
100% sure of Craig, who in the middle of the long feedback+effects teasing at the end of the concert, bends down to disassemble and collect his pedals and at one point thinks "since I'm down here..." and curls up to sleep in the fetal position (absolute confirmation a few minutes later, when he answers the 5 questions I ask him on behalf of a friend).
The Love Substitutes, live, improvise a crazy, dissonant and composed rock, instinctive and clear, brilliant and poetic, schizophrenic and dense, distorted and sweet.
They are three guitarists from dEUS, they have art within them, even when it is just about letting loose creating a crazy mess in front of a bunch of gloomy Belgians and a proud Italian.
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