Siouxsie

It's a strange crowd that gathers among the ruins of Ostia Antica on a hot midsummer night. Punkster well past their sell-by date, unrepentant darkettoni, seasoned voyeurs (you can even spot the unmistakable beard of Paolo Zaccagnini), plus a small crowd of curious onlookers. All gathered to take part in a thoroughly out-of-season voodoo rite, officiated by a fifty-one-year-old English lady with a somewhat turbulent past.

So, here we are for the most improbable Halloween night in years.

The recent history of Susan Janet Dallion is a whole series of breakups. With the Banshees long disbanded, the side project Creatures shut down, and her husband (longtime drummer Budgie) left behind, all that remains is her alone, Siouxsie, former queen and supreme icon of dark-wave, fresh off the first entirely solo experience of a thirty-year career, that "Mantaray" which came and went a year ago without leaving much of a trace. But it's precisely from here that things start again, for a concert that will feel more like a celebration than a comeback attempt.

The sight of the Teatro di Ostia Antica is striking, as is the black mass of people stretching across the sand-colored stone. Do goths still exist? At least for tonight, it seems they do, and they're also far more in the mood to have fun than usual. It could hardly be otherwise, since today's Siouxsie bears almost no resemblance to the hieratic, disdainful priestess of darkness who ruled the 80s, nor to the icy skin-beater we caught on the Creatures tour back in 1999. From the moment she steps on stage, we discover a new Siouxsie, even self-deprecating, who no longer insults the audience -- as punk etiquette once demanded -- but instead teases and seduces it.

Squeezed into a spacesuit that recalls Dee D. Jackson's "Meteor Man" more than Ziggy Stardust, the former dark-star delivers a show of huge visual impact, sparing no dance moves, theatrical mugging, or even mid-air splits worthy of Heather Parisi (!).

From the opening of "They Follow You" -- the first of a long string of songs from "Mantaray" -- the real problem becomes clear, though: the voice. Having lost much of her trademark power, Siouxsie rarely ventures into the upper register, and intones almost every note with a cloying glissando up from below. Things are further complicated by less-than-ideal amplification, which takes a while to give her voice the right "effect": the final stretch will be better partly for this reason too.

The songs from "Mantaray" -- caught between morbid crooning and slightly glossy rock -- fail to warm up the crowd. The exceptions are a powerful rendition of the single "Into A Swan", taut and metallic, and the delirious gallop of "One Mile Below". The handsome staging, with low lighting and dark drapes stirred by the wind to reveal the ruins, effectively adds to the show.

But Siouxsie has some generous surprises in store. Here comes the banshee double bill of "Christine"-"Happy House", setting off dancing in the stalls, with a cover of the Beatles' "Dear Prudence" rounding off the celebration. "Are you happy?" she quips with a self-satisfied smile.

It's in the second half of the show, though, that things really go wild.

Siouxsie comes back on stage with a turban on her head to mop up the sweat wrecking her heavy makeup. And she fires off her best shots. The rumble of the bass on "Israel" is like thunder in the Ostia night: the crowd goes wild and surges toward the stage, and the Banshees' super-classic still lands like a punch to the gut, even sung in slightly more measured tones. Then comes "Arabian Knights", one of the most memorable melodies in dark-punk: arcane atmospheres and Middle Eastern touches punctuated by constant shifts in rhythm that spill into a frenzied gallop. Then Siouxsie practically turns into a jukebox: "What do you want?" In the end she decides for herself, and the Roman theatre erupts to the chiming bells of "Hong Kong Garden", the very first single, chosen because "it's its birthday": thirty years well worn for the immortal nursery rhyme that launched the Banshees.

Sealing the epic farewell comes another adrenaline rush, "Spellbound", the ouverture of "Ju-Ju", still shining in all its power. "The Banshees have those beautiful guitars…" Siouxsie recalls with a hint of nostalgia, and one's thoughts can't help but turn to the great John McGeogh, who passed away recently.

In the end, despite everything, what remains is the pleasant feeling of having shared memories and emotions with a slightly faded star, willing to put herself on the line and celebrate herself with good humor. Not exactly what you'd expect from the former groupie of the Sex Pistols who had turned her own surliness into something of a legend... but then, rock always has a surprise or two up its sleeve. And besides, when will we ever again see, all gathered together, the strange humanity encountered tonight in Ostia Antica?

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