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Rating: Willie Nile is a healthy carrier of rock'n'roll, straightforward, direct, sincere, you can see it in his eyes, in his walk, his gestures, and his look. The small sixty-year-old from New York confirmed once again tonight all the good things he has been able to build during a career full of obstacles that he has managed to overcome, coming out stronger in the distance and reconfirming everything, aided by an audience compelled to sit for most of the concert but which, perhaps a bit late, let itself be captured by the little man in black, jumping to their feet to triumph him in the end.
Asti Musica is a festival that aims to be an exhaustive and varied overview of the different facets of musical genres set against the stunning and evocative backdrop of the Gothic cathedral. Fifteen days of uninterrupted music, which tonight makes a stop in the States, presenting two singer-songwriters, unfortunately unknown to the general public.
Opening for Nile was his contemporary Dirk Hamilton, who had a past as a rising star of the Californian West Coast of the seventies, with a bright future to write, he got lost or rather chose to continue his musical exploration in the underground and in many ways, this makes him akin to Nile. Folk, blues, and soul are his means of communication and a voice to be rediscovered, all combined with deep sympathy and love for Italy and the Italian musicians who accompany him.
It is a pity that few young people attended the concert of Nile. The little New York sprite gave a lesson in rock, artistically born in mid-seventies New York, when the CBGB's of the Big Apple hosted Television, Ramones, Talking Head and Patty Smith. Nile is the junction between the prophetic songwriting of papa Dylan, the Stones of "but I like it" and the urban punk rock of the Ramones, whom he always pays tribute to; tonight it was the turn of I wanna be Sedated.
Willie Nile is a great communicator, through his song lyrics and repeatedly seeking dialogue with his audience. He explains the songs and attempts a few words in Italian, since he seems to have developed a fondness for Italy in recent years. Alongside his old and new anthems, Vagabond moon, a highly requested and fiery She's so cold towards the end, Run, a rousing Cell phone ringing written after the fateful September 11, Give me tomorrow, and the new Innocent ones from his upcoming album, Willie repeatedly honors friends, icons, and his idols, proving that he is still very much a music fan himself. He pays tribute to Jeff Buckley with On the road to Calvary written in 1999 for the artist with the broken future, plays and gets the crowd to sing Hit the road Jack by Ray Charles, explaining how he and his band decided to add it to their setlist after hearing it on the radio during a drive down the Italian highways, and mentions his friend Roger McGuinn to whom he dedicates the poignant piano piece Across the river.
He unleashes his lean and nervous figure by honoring the Who with Substitute and ends on a high note with the Stones' Satisfaction. At this point, the audience is entirely on his side, and despite the visible fatigue, five minutes before the end of the concert, he appears at the merchandise stand to engage once more. Records, photos, autographs in abundance, and new fans won over. This is the strategy of little Willie, who has always preferred small steps, made without selling out to the mercenary executioners of music, and his nearly decade-long discographic exile in the eighties speaks volumes.
As he once said in the preface of a book: "It doesn't matter if it's a club, a stadium, or a street corner. In New York, Dublin, or San Francisco: the music that comes from the heart lives and breathes in the voices and songs of those who make the journey."
Bravo Willie.
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