Simona Gretchen

The evening starts off very badly. Good weather seems to have blessed all of Italy except Faenza. A tremendous downpour is waiting to greet us the moment we step off the train at the Stazione Centrale. Unasked, it will keep us company until 8:30pm, then ebb and flow in intensity until 11pm. We try not to lose our patience, but under the tiny outdoor canopy, and in the pleasantly homey setting of Clan-Destino (as welcoming on weekends as... a rush-hour bus), it takes at least a couple of craft beers to conjure up some good vibrations.

We run into Simona (not) eating with the new full lineup, and they confess that the situation has been the same since the afternoon. Even the sound-check was done with the venue half full, "with a bag full of garlic on stage as if to exorcise us", which only heightened the performance anxiety for a first live outing long called for but pulled together in just a few (very few, whoever tells us the exact number practically shudders to say it) weeks of rehearsal. Let's hope for the best. The show kicks off at an hour that would be unthinkable at any other Italian venue, in a packed, thoroughly intrigued room.

If a good day can be told from its morning, then in the case of a Simona Gretchen on the brink of last rites, the night isn't bad at all either. The occasion is too tempting to miss, drawing a large and varied crowd (plenty of established musicians, but also plenty of listeners of all sorts of random music). Attentive, like the kind of crowd you'd usually find filing silently past the wake of certain "unlucky" artists, burned out too fast to ever see their merits recognized. And all this even though her latest record, that "Post-Krieg" now praised everywhere, hasn't realistically even hit the shops yet. Clearly, after so much suburban snobbery, a few blinkers have finally been cast off in favor of this talented Faenza artist, and of all those who've had the courage to go beyond the usual patterns. And not just musical ones.

Simona proves she has personality and stage presence, despite a slight build that's thoroughly deceptive. Not only that: she seems to have an innate courage for constantly shifting her audience's expectations and daring by half a step (the piano-and-voice cover of "König" by Nico literally silences everyone).

The show starts off a bit quietly, with the title track and "Pro(e)vocation". Silvia Valtieri's keyboards barely register, and Cristian Naldi's guitar is rather overbearing, especially down near the stage. But then the band loosens up and the levels settle so it can show off its potential at its best. And you can bet people braved the March storms just to experience it firsthand. Simona dances and writhes psychotically, while the show alternates new and old songs, going back to 2011 ("Venti e Tre", never performed live before, and "Venus in Furs", a successful tribute to the Velvet Underground) and "Alpha Ouverture" from 2009, though here we're really just playing with memories already projected onto a project firmly rooted in the present, namely "Post-Krieg".

That's really the only friction here. Between the Artist-Gretchen, with all due capital letters, who'd rather avoid the mercenary/promotional effect that comes from playing only songs off the latest record in concert, and the audience who, conversely, having paid their dues, would like that same artist ready to play exactly what they expect. Namely the latest album, maybe start to finish, plus the most famous songs. Communication issues. Even Francesco De Gregori suffers from this, so there's nothing new here. Balance is struck, at times unmistakably powerfully, when both sides get their satisfaction: in those moments, when the crooked faces caused by the glaring absence of a violinist on stage (Nicola Manzan's part on "Enoch" was re-arranged by Cristian Naldi) give way to the collective sing-alongs on "Hydrophobia" and the emotional payoff of the excellent "Everted" triptych, the concert reaches its spannung.

The overall feeling is of a live show that, before too long, will reveal its full stylistic and expressive form. A machine that's surprisingly empathetic for a surprisingly emotional album. Also because the lineup's setup (with Andrea Grillini, from Luther Blissett, behind the drums, boldly reworking Paolo Mongardi's imposing studio contribution, and Luca Baldini, young and bohemian, claiming a slice of aesthetic territory on bass) still doesn't feel fully dialed in, which is humanly understandable, though it bodes very well for the future.

I'd warn any fetish-collectors that, besides the regular CD edition, this time featuring the essential lyrics, the vinyl version had already appeared at the post-live merch table and sold out fast, again under the artistic and graphic supervision of eeviac and Karamazov. Enjoy.

Photo contributions by Silvia Bigi

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