Let's start with the sandwiches: they make them decidedly huge and absolutely indulgent; I stay sober and stick to an utterly common fontina and ham, accompanied by a completely ordinary natural water. Healthiness doesn't drive the economy.

Castellina Marittima is a "Municipality of Peace". As soon as you set foot in it, you realize you're not in the green Po Valley; otherwise, at most, there would have been a party with ballroom dancing and lots of sedatives for everyone. Instead, it's wonderful to discover that behind a festival like this, born in the '90s by a group of kids, there stands more or less the whole town, and that the likes of the Liars (!!!), Zu, One Dimensional Man, Julie's Haircut... and a good slice of what's been interesting in Italy lately have passed through here.

This town could easily be mine. Yours. Had I known, I would have been camping (there's a campsite area equipped!) from the very first day, for all the 5 planned ones, living off sandwiches. Because I would love to live among people like this. And Lin, Lan & Len wandering here and there.

For tonight, knee bashings and horrible ear pain are expected. We're in a park, among the trees, stalls, and some undefined smells. Family fathers with toddlers barely walking in tow, who have come especially for the concert (the fathers, not the toddlers, I believe) and there are quite a few. God save Tuscany.

The stage is located in front of a mini-amphitheater with absolutely excellent acoustics, spacious enough to accommodate the many revelers who have flocked for the ordeal. Which certainly never hurts.

There's only... the concert left. The Lento start.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I come to the conclusion that playing three guitars simultaneously makes a big racket. Thus begins the supreme mind trip, amidst sudden tempo changes and feedback assaults that even make the hair on your butt vibrate (yum!).

Then come the Morkobot.

SBVUAAAAAAAAAAAGH

The entire last album "Morto" is followed by "Zorgongollac" and "Tobocrom". That's it. I've seen them a few times already, and the setlist doesn’t vary much. But it’s willingly tolerated, given the ever-new improvisations and the great chaos they create in between. And those 3 x 2 pedal boards, which they probably wouldn’t even know what to do with anymore, with so much pedal frenzy.

Already, the first victims of the slaughter are noticeable: mussels glued in the corners, heads dangling, various leg collapses. Haha, I only drank water, fools! I envy you. I hate you.

And finally, the Ufomammut.

ZZZVVVZZZVVVZZZVVZZ

I start to doubt that I'll be driving back home. Thanks, dear, the keys to you. Had I known beforehand that I'd end up asleep in the passenger seat, I would have imitated the mussels. They sneakily launched into Stigma, and from there it's an endless slap on the nape. The audience using the upright position thins out more and more as the fuzz accumulates in the cerebellum, so much so that even I, half-nerd, abandon myself languidly on the fantastic steps. Because it's all so heavy... there's no air... the head spins. A real tour de force, destined to end with half the audience bent over on the ground, a quarter swaying significantly, and the remaining quarter deaf. And the Ufo bowing with satisfaction for having created so much devastation.

The best remains a corpulent man who will headbang throughout the concert, with all the groups. Even almost during the stage changes.

Oh wow! Afterwards, there's nothing left but to say goodbye and head to the car, with great sorrow. Everything buzzes, someone is knocking from the inside wanting to get out. I fall asleep instantly. I wake up an hour later, exiting the highway. It's like Easter.