Since yesterday I can still hear the voice of Xavier Rudd , arctic in its acute and myeloma and intimate at the same time when it came to slow down. The multi-instrumentalist singer
Australia - with a stage presence that is a cross between a surfer and Aboriginal - enchanted me like few others in recent months. It 's a melodic - electro - ethnic-rock, his ... frame it as it may put a series of adjectives before the word rock. To understand, Xavier Rudd sounds - as well as acoustic guitar, electric and lap - steel (in fact, resting on her lap) and battery - even three didgeridoo, tubular wind instruments typical of the tribes Aboriginal Australia. The sound that comes out is cavernous and vibrant, essential for many of the songs from the blond angel face (barba a parte).
Non sono un suo affezionatissimo fan, non conosco tutte le sue canzoni a memoria (anzi, molte non le conosco proprio... e provare a rimediare ascoltando la sua discografia a valanga nelle ultime settimane non ha aiutato granché), eppure - quando l'ho scoperto l'anno scorso per caso - sono rimasto folgorato da " Home ", uno dei suoi pezzi più intimi (almeno nell' interpretazione ). Da lì, per quanto ho potuto, ho approfondito la conoscenza. Mi ci sono affezionato, l'ho considerato - forse con un minimo di egocentrico mecenatismo - una mia scoperta da diffondere al mondo ( cioé Roma, quartiere Eur and surroundings).
When I came to know - by post on Fb a friend - who would play in the peaceful wooded setting of Villa Ada, I bought a ticket in advance excited. One for me and one for her, miabella S.
arrived at Villa and I miabella with the idea " pic - nic + concert" (armed with beach towels, books, bottled water and Frigoverre with colorful salad of farro), we met Xavier, on board the pond, outside the concert. He was wearing only a pair of shorts (bare feet, they said, are routine in Australia) and protective embrace its beautiful setting the stretch of water full of concentric jets. I shook my hand, of miabella , and I said "It 's him, is he." She smiled at me as could be done against the boy who jumps in front of eager lights of Luna Park.
The same desire led us to shorten the time of the dinner (still my fault) and transfer the read-time directly in concert, using the fence as the back under the stage.
an hour and a half since the beginning of the concert, in the neighborhood it was just the two of us, our beers and our books (for the record, "Anna Karenina " now is the final sprint. I miss 200 pages. .. that are always 200 pages, but for a book di 1024 pagine sono "la-volata-finale", CHIARO!?).
Con pigrizia, la notte ha spento le luci della nostra sala-lettura improvvisata , ha acceso quelle colorate di rosso, viola e blu del palco e ha stimolato la gente ad ammassarsi sotto.
Dopo minuti di buia attesa, è comparso Xavier Rudd , vestito di una camicia marrone pastello smanicata e di un pantalone lungo e leggero da saltimbanco, con orli arrotolati per non intralciare la performance dei suoi piedi nudi, piccoli e tozzi, ma più efficienti di un metronomo.
Ha preso posto sullo sgabello, su uno dei due min i- palchi innalzati sul palco: quello di sinistra, surrounded by his drum skins and its didgeridoo. From there started the friendly and musical challenge by getting looks accomplices, smiles, frenzied improvisations and changes of pace playful against the mini-stage opposite. Surrounded, the latter by an incredible number of skins and cymbals drums, abused by vibrant force and involvement by Andile Nqubezelo , the massive black drummer. From
fair trial, more than anything else nell'amplesso lanky and amused with her five and six-string bass, there was - in the center - Tio Mol onto , smiling child frail in body and light as dark blue afro.
That is to say, perhaps because of a technical oversight, perhaps because of the indomitable power of the six-string bass, during the first pieces at the slightest touch of the strings by Tio departed from the speakers distorted and vibrating board arrogant, capable of probably uncombed.
Xavier has played, sang for two hours, has run more than a little amused to write string to his fellow stage, watching with dreamy eyes. He has blown in his didgeridoo until his lungs (certainly more spacious than those of a human being) it to him 'have allowed, he plucked the strings of his guitar, he cuddled with his vocal chords the eardrums of the public, has taken the time stamping his foot on the wood, and then tore off her headphones and danced and pirouettes, to embrace and final Andile Tio .
After the release of the trio sober, the lights went out and me and miabella S. There are secluded with ears smiling.
There have been rumors and final comments with Silvia and Lorraine Tao cousins \u200b\u200b"and Max Mariani, too enchanted by Xavier (but who have opted for lazy listening Senior on chairs in the back of the auditorium) .
quit Villa Ada, a calm languor of a dinner which has the fleeting thought of the corn goodnight. A quench thirst predictable post-cob, however, and has the thought of the water bottle, fortunately almost immaculate.
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