Nada Surf

Romantics by Necessity

Paraphrasing a great line from the recent “L’arte di vincere”, “how can you not be romantic with Nada Surf”? My problem, as a friend once confided to me, is that I like girls who are too cute, and in the end I always risk being disappointed. So forgive this digression, but you'll see, maybe in the end you'll find some sense in it. When I arrive in the small, half-deserted town of Mezzago, my expectations for the evening are huge. Because I'm about to see one of my favorite bands, absent from Italian soil for seven very long years. And above all because it's a chance to meet a girl I've been chasing for at least two years. Sure, she lives in Milan and I'm over two hundred miles away, and our so-called courtship has taken place entirely through that fearsome social network, Facebook. I certainly don't expect a sweeping love story to blossom - I'm old enough to know better than to believe in that sort of thing. But I'd be a hypocrite if I denied that for two days I'd already been mentally rehearsing THE speech I'd give her once we met. A girl who's more than cute, who says she's tired of being disappointed in love, loves cinema, isn't full of herself, on a mild winter evening, and the music of Nada Surf. Wow.

At this point the story should split in two, between “expectations” and “reality”, like in the famous sequence from “(500) Days of Summer”. Right. Because once I'm inside the Bloom, I text her to say I've arrived and I'll wait for her at the bar to say hi before the show starts. But no reply comes. So, after about an hour, I drift lazily and a bit confused toward the side of the stage. Matthew Caws (how he's aged!) and his bandmates (there's even Doug Gillard, lead guitarist of Guided By Voices, and Martin Wenk, multi-instrumentalist of Calexico, no less) kick off with “Clear Eye Clouded Mind”, the opener of their latest, hugely underrated (as always happens with them) album, “The Stars Are Indifferent to Astronomy”. And I see her. On the other side of the stage. Phone in hand, snapping photos and singing along. A well-meaning friend had suggested she hadn't answered my text because her phone was in her bag; I turn to him and say “you have no clue”. Then I look at her. She's gorgeous, her hair is redder than it looked in photos, and she's also much shorter than I expected. None of it matters - it's a punch to the heart. Matt Caws sings “Look at the sky, look in your eye, all i feel is transition, when do we get home? All i feel is transition, now to be alone, with a clear eye, but a clouded mind”. Are you talking to me? Finally our eyes meet, and we exchange a nod and a smile.

The show goes on, and I try to enjoy it as best I can, but obviously my head is elsewhere. The band, despite the less-than-stellar acoustics of the small Bloom venue, is on great form, and dusts off pretty much all the “classics” of their catalogue. From recent tracks like “Teenage Dreams” and “Jules and Jim”, to the singles from “Lucky”, “Whose Authority” and “Weightless” (but also the gorgeous “See These Bones”, with three different harmonies that ultimately merge into a breathtaking climax), and going further back to their probably finest work, that “Let Go” which proved to everyone that the kids from “High/Low” had grown up, they pull out “Happy Kid”, “Hi-Speed Soul”, and in the intense encore their war horses aren't missing either: “Inside of Love”, “Always Love” and “Popular”, the ultimate anthem for losers, alongside Beck's “Loser” - that “teenage guide to popularity” that was just as relevant fifteen years ago as it is today, in the age of mass-media love affairs. If it's true, as many say, that Nada Surf always sound the same, it's equally true that what they say carries universal weight and transcends time. When Matthew Caws sings “I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love, I'm standing at the gates, I see the beauty above…” and everyone joins in with him, I feel my heart in my throat and total empathy washes over me. What I'm witnessing is the spleen of an eternally cheerful loser who's crossed forty and carries a few too many regrets (“When I Was Young”…) just like all of us.

The show is over, and I barely notice. Everything happens too fast. I walk up to her, and finally say hello. But something's off, I sense a coldness and insincerity that I know all too well (or maybe we're just both too shy…). Along with her friends, she slips away from me and runs after the band members to get an autograph, and I'm left standing there waiting a while. By the time I run to the car to grab my jacket and come back to the venue, she's vanished. I can't say I'm angry. Disappointed is the right word. Bitter. I could go on writing about what happened afterward, starting with the text message the next day apologizing because “she'd run out of credit on her phone, etc. etc.”, but the substance wouldn't change much. Maybe all this should have taught me something, but I already know I'll fall into the same mistakes and misjudgments for the next fifty years. Still, it's a comfort to know that someone else feels what I feel, and Nada Surf and their songs are here to remind me of that.

The Stars Are… In Bloom

They're not the kind of band that scores many points on the intellectual-alternative resumes of small-club regulars, and their hype flame has been burning low for a while now, yet Nada Surf had lingered near the top of my personal wishlist for what felt like an eternity. A good ten years, since I first swooned over their ‘Let Go’, and I couldn't even tell you for what strange reason I missed them right on that tour, when they came to play near me on their single Italian date, five euros on the dot for a spot at the barrier on the lawn of Spaziale. The chance to make up for it has only come now, after a couple of not-exactly-unforgettable albums and at a ticket price more than tripled (but still reasonable) in the far-flung hall of Bloom in Mezzago, a venue for true die-hards, known above all because twenty-one years ago the just-exploded Nirvana packed it beyond capacity. Things didn't go quite the same way for Matthew Caws and co. on this new, one-off Italian date, but the Bloom still looked more than two-thirds full, buzzing with a warm crowd that would have been even bigger if the schedule hadn't set the start time at ten to midnight (n.b.: on a Thursday night, for someone writing this from 190 km away) after a hefty opening set. Actually, even on that front things didn't go too badly: anyone dreading yet another disproportionate slot handed to some anonymous, dubious local band was proven wrong by the pleasant forty minutes given over to the little-known Waters, the new project from the former frontman of the decent Port O’Brien, Van Pierszalowski. An indie rock happily torn between acoustic and electric, rootsy just enough despite the singer's not-especially-thrilling Dave Pirner-esque poses. Long enough to warm up the crowd during the wait, mercifully short enough not to grow tiresome.

Of course, the appearance on stage of the three champions, on this occasion flanked by two ultra-luxe guests in Doug Gillard of Guided By Voices and Martin Wenk of Calexico, helped instantly wipe away memories of the Californian quartet's set. The opening stretch, with several tracks from the recent (and far from memorable) “The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy”, wasn't exactly the stuff that has you clapping your hands raw. A few inevitable sound issues and a selection of songs that are hardly the best in their catalogue held back the start, but the recovery was swift and, above all, steady, kicked off by a “Happy Kid” that got the crowd in the front rows fired up right on cue. Brick by brick, the New York outfit managed to win over even the most skeptical onlookers, with tight, unfailingly engaging performances. The clearest sign of success came through in all its clarity with an excellent version of “When I Was Young”, one of the many overly polite and bland radio-rock tracks that crowd the new record. Beyond the strong musical performance, though, what really made the difference were the three people on stage themselves. Convincing, easygoing, thoroughly down-to-earth: not stars on a pedestal but regular people, eager to communicate, joke around with the fans and play purely for the fun of it, without the typical off-putting poses that many “arrived” bands seem to carry along with the rest of their luggage on the tour bus. If Matthew and drummer Ira Elliot were the ones who drew the most appreciation from the female half of the crowd (a fun detail: sixty-forty in favor of the girls up front, which for an indie show is still quite an exception), everyone's affection went with little effort to the wonderfully out-there bassist Daniel Lorca, unmistakable for his hairstyle, mannerisms, spirit and booming voice.

With the new material out of the way, Nada Surf set about putting together a greatest-hits celebration for their fans, with no particular surprises but with just the right dose of energy and humor. The best came near the end of the set, when the American band opted for a decisive turn toward rockier shores (the trio of “The Way You Wear Your Head”, “Hi-speed Soul” and “See These Bones”, among other things the true cream of their entire output), effectively backed by the electric verve of an excellent guitarist like Gillard. For the encores, naturally plentiful, Caws and company revealed their most boldly crowd-pleasing side, firing off their two biggest “romantic” hits back to back (for “Inside of Love” Matt turned impromptu choreographer, directing everyone in the hall to sway along), plus the big song that landed them in heavy rotation on MTV seventeen years ago now (“Popular”, you know it, right?) and the one they're perhaps most attached to of all, an electrifying, never-ending version of “Blankest Year” made unmissable by Wenk's trumpet. After such a barrage of irresistible hit singles, a decent fan like myself could only take leave of that night in Brianza with the pleasant feeling of a full heart. The drive back was, without question, the least tiring 190 kilometers (and then some, given yet another nighttime closure on a stretch of the A4) my car has ever covered.

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