I was looking for America but then I found you in Alaska, baby. The Cesare Cremonini show at the Scoglio stadium It starts like this. Indeed, the journey. But who found, in Alaska, the Bolognese artist started 25 years ago from the hills of his city aboard a failed Vespa, sixties, and has reached the borders of the world? Perhaps one of the many Cremonini who, in this quarter of a century, embellished the Italian music scene. Last night, in front of the 40 thousand who filled the Messina stadium, several of them were seen, of these Caesar, each of which wearing the most suitable dress: from the sparkling jacket with the sequins that betrays the vocation from pop star to the more rough one, in black leather, which shows the rock soul. Now on the floor, now on the guitar, now theatrical performer (in The girl of the future and now that I no longer have you), now struggling with a accordion, yet another bet won by Cremonini, who just over a year ago had told on social networks as he would have strongly wanted to bring her to the stage, after learning to play it.
And here he is there, the transformist Cesare, in front of a very hot audience, who welcomes him with the same love that, twenty -five years ago – recalled the artist himself -, had overwhelmed him in the first concert of all time, in Capo d’Orlando, when at the sports field he made his debut in the live, blonde hair and Physique du role as a high school.
The first fans are in the queue, under the hottest sun of this summer, already in the morning, to not miss anything and take everything, as close as possible. As the hours pass the charge increases, the adrenaline rises and the number of bus from everywhere is growing (just think that, of the 40 thousand spectators yesterday, only in just over 8 thousand have purchased the ticket in Messina and its province). The tested organizational machine, net of physiological hitches (especially in the usual more critical moment, that of the outflow outflow), once you put it back in motion it manages everything with the fluidity you need, from the shuttles taken by assault (about thirty buses made available by ATM) to the Sold-Out parking lots such as the stands of the stadium.
Then, after 9pm, the city lights go out and the journey begins. A journey to Alaska, in fact, but also an introspective journey and, if we want, backwards 25 years of career. In over two and a half hours of entertainment without pauses, Cremonini never saves himself and protagonist, together with music, is a scenography on which there is the signature, among others, of the London study Northhouse (see Coldplay). The final roundup, with the hits of all time (50 special, jam #25, poetic, nobody wants to be Robin), leaves you breathless, and then close with the now usual message of hope: tomorrow it will be a better day.
