Not Moving

I could walk in without knowing a soul, but places like Altroquando feel like home to me. I might not even know who's playing that night, but I already know it's unlikely to disappoint. Especially when it's one of the nights organized by the ever-praiseworthy Go Down Records, which, from the foothills of Treviso, has become a sort of guardian deity for countless stoner, garage and rock-punk acts across Italy and beyond. The Maximum Fest nights are the apotheosis of this label's spirit and attitude. Each band takes the stage for about fifty minutes, with no real hierarchy between them. Getting bored is impossible, even though the show kicks off from early afternoon.

When I walk into the venue, To the Max! are about to go on: a Verona trio devoted to the wildest Hellacopters, playing rock with plenty of punk attitude whose sole purpose in life is to get beer and sweat flowing. Sure, don't expect much originality, but people were there to shake their backsides (and watch others do the same), not to be intellectually stimulated.

Right on time at 8:30pm, after a brief soundcheck, the main reason we were there takes the stage: Not Moving (this writer is a proud owner of the debut Eps "Strange Dolls" and "Movin'Over" on vinyl), active for forty-five years now, with legendary figures in the lineup such as singer Lilith, drummer Tony Face and, above all, that living monument to the Italian alternative scene who goes by the name of Dome La Muerte.

It should be said that the band wasn't there to celebrate itself, even though this is billed as a "final tour": relatively few of their classic songs were revisited (though, admittedly, their discography isn't particularly extensive). The four guys (a lineup with two guitars and no bass, modeled on Cramps, one of the most obvious comparisons that come to mind when talking about Not Moving) focus mainly on last year's album "That's All Folks!", in which they indulge their love of music and the classic suggestions of Americana (Gun Club above all, but also X). Songs like "Saphran Road", "Wyoming Girl" and "But It's not" take the listener "tra la via Emilia e il west", as Guccini used to say. And on stage, while the recklessness of youth can no longer be expected (their gigs were once famous for being hyperkinetic and often violent), passion and craft more than make up for it. Lilith's voice is as warm as ever, and on stage, even though the years have passed and the black Siouxsie-style hairdo is now just a memory, she buries the crowd under shovelfuls of charisma and sex appeal. Dome la Muerte grates away at his guitar with the air of an extra from a Hammer film, commanding the respect due to an icon.

Then, clearly, the best moments come with the revivals of classic tracks like the frenzied "Spider" or the pitch-dark "Baron Samedi" and, above all, the long, devastating cover of "Venus In Furs" by Velvet Underground, which closed the set amid tons of feedback.

"We're old, we're boring, we're full of ourselves… but we do whatever the hell we want," Lilith said between songs. I only wish I could get there myself at 60.

(Photo by Giorgia Brognara)

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