Tears For Fears

Milan, February 23, 2019

by Mauro Caproni

When, in early summer 1983, one of the shows that would make the history of TV music in Italy debuted on Silvio Berlusconi's networks - namely Deejay Television - one of the first videos in heavy rotation was by an unknown duo, tackling an electropop track as classy as it was danceable and infectious. The xylophone that opens the song and keeps recurring throughout the footage, the singer with his quiff and braids front and center, and a chorus/catchphrase that lodges itself in your head instantly. With "Change" (actually the first single from that monster of an album, "The Hurting" - "Mad World" came out the year before), Tears For Fears officially entered Italian homes at lunchtime, and even more so into the everyday lives of those of us who grew up on bread and electronic pop. And who knows how many of the twelve thousand who packed Forum di Assago for the Rule The World Tour began their love story with the English band on that very occasion.

A band that's in some ways indecipherable - both rebel and establishment, you might say, cult and at the same time aggressively mainstream - a dazzling debut in electro-wave territory before repositioning itself in more classic terrain, in some cases almost Beatlesian. But it's those five or six songs destined to go down in pop music history that make the difference, the same ones for which droves of fifty-somethings flocked en masse to the Milan show.

They'd been absent from our shores for ages, at least as a duo (Orzabal alone, the trademark holder, popped by in the mid-90s, but it wasn't the same thing) - that is, since the days of "The Seeds Of Love", a work steeped in a black-and-soul spirit that clashed with everything they'd released before, yet with a title track whose little marches and irresistible momentum, driven by constant melodic shifts, would grant them everlasting glory. And, naturally, trigger rows and misunderstandings between the two. It's well known, in fact, that the pair never got on particularly well (a bit like the Gallagher brothers, to give you an idea) and that they ended up splitting completely a couple of years after that album, spending at least a decade waging a pointless war through lawyers and courtrooms.

As mentioned, the Forum sold out ages ago, and the show was postponed by almost a year due to unspecified personal issues on Orzabal's part. No great loss, except that because of the postponement we missed out on Alison "Alf" Moyet as special guest, replaced for this 2019 leg by one Justin Jesso, who obviously isn't quite the same thing.

A sold-out show that only confirms this writer's utter inability to predict and understand the dynamics of concert attendance, because anything could have been expected for a band that hasn't actually released a successful album since 1989 and has spent some fifteen years touring the globe with the exact same best-of show - anything, that is, except a presale sellout in such a large arena. Good thing for the promoter, who sensed the business opportunity and, hard as it is to admit, got it right: swapping the standing floor for a more comfortable seated gold section, given the rather high average age of the crowd.

And the show itself? Exactly what you'd expect from an outfit that's long since settled into its comfort zone, but which still always cuts a fine figure live. A revival party whose every detail was already known in advance: about fifteen cream-of-the-crop songs and one cover, with no digging into the lesser-known catalogue - and we know how many gems are scattered across a discography that, admittedly, isn't especially vast - a standard running time under an hour and a half, and pretty steep ticket prices. The bare minimum, in short.

We were pleased to note that Orzabal still has an excellent voice, powerful and expressive, undiminished by the years, even if between songs, in his (slightly excessive) attempts to be witty with garbled phrases in broken Italian, Google-Translate style, he came across as rather a caricature of himself.

Shame that he's now gone fully "Yorke-ified": in looks, with his now-grey hair gathered in a bun and a white beard, and also in the now-stale homage to "Creep", which really is enough already, since he's been trotting it out (badly) undeterred at every show for years. With the aggravating factor, with no mitigating excuse whatsoever, that little gems like "The Way You Are", "The Working Hour", "Watch Me Bleed" and "Tears Roll Down" get sacrificed to make room for it - and those are just the first titles that come to mind.

Far more disciplined and thoroughly British in style was his partner Smith, bass slung over his shoulder as ever, deadly serious when introducing the songs and then the band, and effective in the harmonies and countermelodies, as well as in the songs that fall under his own remit.

A band that plays by heart, a drummer flawless in dictating the rhythm without a single slip, a vocalist who makes you not miss Oleta Adams in her collaborations with the group, up-to-date sounds and arrangements, and perfect room acoustics. Everything runs smoothly, starting with the opening "Everybody Wants To Rule The World" - indeed, Tears For Fears seem, in a rather self-deprecating way, keen to underscore the enormous gulf between their past artistic peak and their merely decent present, choosing as intro a recent, stripped-back, minimal version of the opening track by Lorde.

It's one impeccable performance after another, with the songs flying by at speed and a not entirely pleasant sense that the band on stage can't wait for it to be over, paying little mind to the intensity of the performance and doling out chills only sparingly.

In the end, it's "The Hurting" that dominates, with a full five songs in the setlist. A surprising choice, explained by Orzabal himself in various interviews, since on streaming platforms it's the album most listened to by younger listeners. And it's precisely the triptych "Change-Mad World-Memories Fade", performed back to back, that marks the high point of the evening. Songs already complete in themselves, revived here with arrangements aimed at freshening them up, and of devastating emotional impact - heaven forbid the younger crowd should discover that "Mad World" isn't a cover of the Gary Jules track from the "Donnie Darko" soundtrack.

Of course, the pathos and tension - let's not forget the debut is an almost autobiographical record, a snapshot of an extremely painful and complicated, at times almost terrifying childhood, as the lyrics make clear - are sweetened and sacrificed on the altar of nostalgia and memory. Janov's theories and the primal scream are by now distant points lost in time, but it seems the only thing that truly matters tonight is being there for what, however you look at it, remains an event not to be missed.

And you can't not close with “Shout,” its title blazing enormous above the stage to underline, if it were ever needed, the song's historic role as a defining anthem of the '80s. But here they could and should have dared more, building to a total crescendo and exploding into an orgy of sounds and percussive rhythms, because the song lends itself perfectly to an epic finale. Instead what comes out is a fairly standard, reassuring rendition, content simply to exist rather than to astonish – which, in the end, is the key to reading the whole evening.

In an instant the lights come up, the band has already bolted off to the backstage, and it's hard to tell whether, once the post-concert adrenaline fades, what remains is genuine enjoyment or the slightly bitter aftertaste that this kind of celebration often leaves behind.

***

Padua, 24 February 2019

by Michele Bordi

This time they pulled it off, they really are back. Tears For Fears, after last year's tour was postponed, finally fill the Kioene Arena in Padua, the day after their Milan date.

The crowd present clearly reflects the time that has passed: there's no shortage of younger faces, but it's the middle-aged crowd that rules the room, their slender figures in jackets and smart shoes soon to lose their composure under the heavy blows of nostalgia. Because the English duo playing tonight hasn't been seen around these parts in a while; because “The Hurting” and its siblings remain timeless icons that, among other things, have aged beautifully; because the two Bath divas always seem to have a quarrel lurking just around the corner (“who knows if we'll ever get the chance to see them again!”, someone probably thinks every single time).

Unfortunately, the cruelty of time passing isn't a toll paid by the audience alone. From the opening bars of the concert, which kicked off at 9pm sharp, we note with regret that Smith is having a rough night, visibly struggling for the entire first half of the brief show. When it isn't glaring bum notes marring the beauty of masterpieces like “Pale Shelter” or “Change”, Curt's vocal cords seem, for long stretches, to be literally chasing the rhythm of the rest of the band, like a former athlete feeling the weight of his 57 years, with experience that doesn't seem enough to close the gap.

Luckily, just when everything seemed to be going downhill, a surge of pride (or perhaps a benevolent spirit) gets the limping jockey back in the saddle, and thanks to good old Orzabal's far more dignified form, he delivers one of the evening's highlights fully intact: “Mad World”.

A special mention goes to Doug Petty, whose keyboards envelop the Kioene stands with great intensity – helped along by a volume from the sound crew that borders on criminal – but the whole rest of the backing band seems in excellent shape, driven by Orzabal, who seems intent on commanding everyone with his guitar slung over his shoulder.

A rather short show – an hour and a half by the stopwatch – which at least packs in as much music as possible, with few breaks: just Roland's playful little aside trying out some Italian, while Smith prefers to stay true to the stereotype of cold Albion. Before and after this symbolic contrast, a setlist stuffed with great classics, paying the bare minimum tribute to their forgettable last record with “Secret World”, and to Elemental with “Break It Down Again”. Everything else is a proud homage to the three landmark records that marked the band's evolution and their worldwide success: from the killer opener “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” to “Head Over Heels”, from the live power of “Sowing The Seeds Of Love” to “Woman In Chains”, entrusted to the voice of Carina Round (an essential presence in beefing up the now-thin harmonies of the Bath duo). All of this interspersed with a dignified if hardly essential cover of “Creep”, right up to the closer with the inevitable “Shout”. The great final classic is actually delivered rather coldly and – allow us this negative impression – hastily, coming across as a performance that's not particularly heartfelt, almost going through the motions. This reading certainly won't be shared by the many fifty-somethings mentioned earlier who, giddy with joy, let go of their last inhibitions and go wild down at the front and along the barriers.

An evening steeped in nostalgia, seen from different angles: those who turned back into kids, moving just like they used to to the synth-pop rhythms of the Bath duo; and those who will inevitably have mourned the days when the two artists were far more whole, and their art far more urgent.

Still, we're ready to bet on an inevitable sell-out for their next appearance on Italian soil, whenever – if ever – that may be.

(Photo contributions courtesy of Natascia Torres/Zed Live)

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