Mark Lanegan Band

Mark Lanegan, the monolith of contemporary rock. He is one, no one, and a hundred thousand. "Blues Funeral" marked his return to the scene since "Bubblegum" (2004), but in truth we never really felt his absence. Three albums alongside the sweet Isobel Campbell, a couple with the electronic duo Soulsavers, collaborations and duets with Unkle and the "usual" Queens Of The Stone Age and Twilight Singers. Not to mention taking part in the Nico tribute project, "Life Along The Borderline", alongside heavyweights such as John Cale, Lisa Gerrard, Mercury Rev and the late Mark Linkous.

Perhaps that's also why the sold-out show at the Estragon in Bologna (the first of two Italian dates on his tour) comes as little surprise. Inside the venue the crowd is a mixed bag, splitting into various categories and subcategories: nostalgics, old and young, from the grunge era wearing Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam t-shirts (though I didn't spot a single Screaming Trees one), trendy "indie" kids with designer CK glasses and a reflex camera at the ready, and finally thirty-somethings (or older) who are serious music fans with a somewhat wistful look, taking refuge in the back rows of the Estragon (this writer would count himself in the latter category). The 2012 Mark Lanegan appeals to all these types of devotees, and indeed, over the course of his career he has repeatedly proven just how eclectic he can be.

When Mark takes the stage and the hammering rhythm of "The Gravedigger's Song" kicks in, the crowd is already in raptures. With That Voice, Lanegan can do whatever he wants. A seductive, swaying baritone, a majestic roar capable of moments of extraordinary tenderness. When it comes to rock music, it's impossible not to think of a voice like this. Everything revolves around it, though - there isn't much "else" going on. The bill reads Mark Lanegan Band (and indeed the vast majority of the songs performed during the evening come from the two albums recorded under that name), but on stage it feels more like watching a one man show than the work of a genuine band. Sure, the musicians backing Lanegan play like seasoned professionals, starting with rockabilly-styled guitarist Steven Janssens, who throws himself into rendering the intricate solos of songs like "Riot in My House" and the arpeggios of "Harborview Hospital", but it's one thing to have world-class players like Josh Homme, Nick Oliveri, Jack Irons, PJ Harvey and Greg Dulli by your side (in the studio), and quite another to play with session men who never go beyond a job well done, almost intimidated by the presence of the "monolith" that is Lanegan.

He himself, in fact, holds court at the center of the stage, rooted there for nearly two hours, motionless in the same position. One hand on the microphone, the other on the stand holding it up. Few other frontmen possess the same stillness on stage, but compared to Lanegan even Liam Gallagher looks like a tap dancer. It hardly matters, though, because his Voice enchants everyone, whether venturing into Morricone-esque flights of fancy like "St. Louis Elegy" (one of the high points of his latest album), or scorching blues classics like "Bleeding Muddy Water", the timeless "Methamphetamine Blues", or folk fragments from the past like "One Way Street" and "Pendulum" (from the masterpiece "Whiskey For The Holy Ghost").

There's also room for a cover of Screaming Trees' "Crawlspace", from the "posthumous" album released last year. Less compelling, both on record and live, are certain sound experiments tinged with synths and electronics: "Ode To Sad Disco" and "Gray Goes Black" suffer from a performance that's a bit too "muddy" and tentative, with the bass overpowering everything else, even Lanegan's voice, rattling the audience's insides. Perhaps these tracks need to be broken in further over the course of future shows (many will be able to confirm this next September, when the Lanegan Band returns to Italy for the Perfect Day Festival in Villafranca).

In short, fans of the man can't really feel let down, yet there remains a certain "elusive" sensation, a sense of incompleteness. As if Lanegan's songs, the pain poured into his dark lyrics, the addictions and love affairs gone wrong, weren't meant for such a wide, generalist audience, and as a result the "sincerity" ends up diluted and dampened into a show that's competent but cold. Then again, Mark is a rock star now, and there's really nothing he can do about it. Or maybe there is. Perhaps the last joke this enigmatic figure allows himself is to play with his renewed popularity, pulling the adoring crowd's leg. As if to say, "fine, you want a piece of me? Here you go." At the end of the show, Lanegan goes to sit at the merchandise table, and with his usual resigned look, flanked by two improbable bodyguards (hard to look more imposing than him), he starts signing tickets and CDs for the excited, restless crowd, who get to happily take home a little piece of their (suffering) idol of the moment.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google