Blur

It's exactly 9:30 pm when the horns kitsch of "The Debt Collector" ring out, unmistakable, on stage. There they are, moments later, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Dave Rowntree e Damon Albarn: they walk on stage heads down, pick up their instruments, smile. The crowd greets them with delirious joy, screaming and applauding. Albarn raises his arms to the sky, pleased with himself, before tackling, with a voice still cold, the messy "St. Charles Square", the second single taken from the recent work "The Ballad Of Darren", which live sounds less compressed than the studio version. And the influence of Bowie from "Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)" is stronger than ever.

 

Taking us straight back to the past right after are the guitars baggy of "There's No Other Way", quite possibly the first instant classicrecorded by theBlur and the second single taken from that "Leisure” which, in 1991, marked the beginning of one of the most dazzling careers in the British alternative scene and beyond. When “Leisure” came out I was barely a month old. I therefore didn't live through the years of the so-called “battle of britpop” between Blur e Oasis“, nor the commercial success of alternative rock; it all swept over me many years later with a surprising, unexpected force. The crowd around me, on the other hand, seems to belong to the generation that lived through all of it firsthand, yet there's no room here for self-indulgent nostalgia, for basking in what once was just for its own sake. It's simply one great, beautiful celebration, with room for the fury of “Popscene”, the echoes of Xtc of “Tracy Jacks”, the cold glimmers of the wonderful “Beetlebum”, sung along by Albarn and the crowd as one voice just twenty minutes into the show, as well as the anesthetizing sounds and onomatopoeic ravings of “Trimm Trabb”, which is - alas - the only nod to the more experimental side of “13“.

Then there are the loser anthems, like the surprising "Villa Rosie", taken from "Modern Life Is Rubbish" (the most represented album in the setlist, alongside "Parklife") and the inevitable "Coffee & TV", sung with tender reticence by Coxon.

The magic seems to fizzle out for a moment due to technical problems. Where many would have lost their cool, Blur just smile at each other, complicit, and find a way to entertain the mortified crowd, between the usual tomfoolery laced with Albarn's British humor ("I think the sound's gone because we were pushing it too hard") and an improvised, drama-free "Intermission".

Unfortunately, at this point, it's necessary to take a step back and open a parenthesis on the organization of the event. While the sparkle in the eyes of those present says a lot about the gratitude of Italian fans finally getting to see Blur in Italy after a 10-year wait, that's not enough to justify the long list of problems that marred this event. Standing room was split into a Pit area (80 euros a ticket) and a parterre (60 euros a ticket). While those who, like me, were in the Pit area could roughly enjoy what was happening on stage — in a sectioning-off that's honestly ill-suited to a communal event like a concert — trying to overlook the crackling sound and the ten thousand people crammed into a space meant for a few hundred, the same can't be said for those in the parterre, who were probably closer to Pistoia than to Blur. The cherry on top: a stage and screens that were too low, and a central sound tower blocking the view. Those who opted for the stands, meanwhile, had to fight for a seat; due to overbooking in one of the two sections, many were left standing, including people with disabilities. It's only right to loudly flag these issues, which are unacceptable for an event of this scale.

Coming back to the concert, what made the lucky few who got to fully enjoy it jump were the big classics like "End Of A Century", "Parklife" (without Phil Daniels, unfortunately), "Country House" and, above all, "Song 2", which sparked a timid pogo pit. On "Oily Water" Albarn's voice, filtered through a megaphone, sounds muddled, but the quartet redeems itself thanks to a Coxon on fine form, who in the instrumental outro draws on the noisiest shoegaze. "The Narcissist" and "This Is A Low" paint a splendid moment of intimacy with the crowd before a brief pause, during which they're called back on stage by the jubilant audience chanting "Oh my baby, oh my baby, oh why oh my" over and over.

"This song is from the new album", Albarn hisses before launching into "Barbaric" on piano, the only track that doesn't particularly stir the crowd, who would probably have preferred to be moved by the contemplative "Out Of Time". But it's just a momentary lull: grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, Albarn puts on the iconic Fila tracksuit jacket and dives into the crowd in the front rows while singing "Girls & Boys", letting himself be hugged, kissed and decked out with colorful scarves and a pair of questionable sunglasses. A shame about Alex James's iconic bassline, rubbery and unpredictable, which sounds less crisp due to the aforementioned technical problems.

The arduous task of closing out the night, when hearts are already overflowing with joy, falls to the triptych made up of "For Tomorrow" — a song that, perhaps more than any other, embodies what britpop was, and still is — the eagerly awaited "Tender", complete with a kiss on the cheek from Albarn to Coxon, and the warm, dystopian melody of "The Universal", which since 1995 has kindled hope and melancholy in the hearts of at least two generations of fans. And which, 28 years on, hasn't aged a single bit, even if we have.