In the summer where (finally?) The bubble of the overdose from live, sold-out at all costs often presumed and sometimes even “rigged”, Cesare Cremonini thinks about putting things back in their place. Its sold-outs (real, very true) in the stadiums (full, full) if it is conquered after twenty-five years of swings and apprenticeship, album after album, experimentation after experimentation.
The starting point was Messina, to be accurate Capo d’Orlandoin the football field of the Tyrrhenian town, the first live of the then Lunapop then, in the summer of 2000
He remembers him well, that debut of twenty -five years ago, the Bolognese singer -songwriter, and celebrates him with his first song ever, written at 16 among the school desks and sung live, for the first time, just that evening at Capo d’Orlando: I would like. It is one of the many peaks of intensity of a live monstrum without stops: two and a half hours in which Cremonini “eats” the stage with a universal pop star: three musical instruments (guitar, the unprecedented accordion and the inevitable piano, extension of his body), At least four clothes changes, dancer incursions and in the audiencea perpetual motion of energy and symphony.
In the background, an blinding scenography, huge Alaska postcards on the maxi-scenes, because it is from there, from that journey to the borders of the world, that a musical project begins of which, during the concert, you recognize every nuance. The rest of the rest of us think of special effects which, thanks to the Northhouse of London (evident the echoes that refer to the Coldplay), become much more than a frame: they are an integral part of a picture that, when in the middle of the show it has the colors of a northern lights that “invades” the stadium, draws enchantment and amazement on the faces of the public.
The same amazement that accompanies a duet – precisely for Boreal Aurore – which is only apparently at a distance: Cesare and Elisa seem to be next to each other, even if the one is on stage, at the center of the catwalk, and the other appears on a screen. For a few moments Elisa is at the stadium, as well as Jovanotti, with her video incursion per world.
The poignant San Luca, on the other hand, engraved with Luca Carboni, Cremonini sings it alone and is movedwon by love for his Bologna. It is no coincidence that this song is precisely, one of the latest caught by that record jewel that is Alaska Baby (there are also little known pearls, such as the delicate poetry a pink sunrise and the powerful acrobat, played on the ice piano with the accompaniment of two acrobats, in fact) to act as a forerunner to the hit from which everything started, a quarter of a century ago, and that he tried precisely to adolescent lightness of those same Bolognese hills, the immortal 50 special.
Between the Bologna of the Red Vespers of Fire and that of San Luca there is the entire path of climbs and descents of Cesare Cremonini, the same one that is in the middle between that football field of Capo d’Orlando, “next to the ferrata line”, and the stadium of Messina. There is the journey of a total artist, of an extraordinary performer capable of bringing everyone with him (“I no longer want to travel alone”) up to the borders of the world.