I’m a music addict. I love listening to music, making music and being part of the local music scene. Hence as a music lover I like to go see musicians play live. But frankly, I’m not a big fan of mega venues and stadium tours.
My preference is for smaller, more intimate occasions and during the summer of 2009 one of these opportunities presented itself when Joe Bonamassa, the now world famous blues guitar star, was scheduled to appear as a special guest at a local music jam in a town close to where I then lived, in Northern Italy.
Six years ago Joe was already quite well known and appreciated as a very talented American bluesman from New York, but certainly not at the same scale of notoriety as he enjoys today. A wonder-child on guitar, he started touring and playing professionally at a very young age, and matured into a fully fledged virtuoso of the instrument with a deep love for the blues and the roots of rock music.
Just to put things into perspective, he had recently played a sold-out concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London with a certain guy called Eric Clapton.
So I was surprised (and more than a little skeptical) when his name came up in the roster of players that would be on stage at a local Socialist/Workers Unions event (“Festa della Liberazione della Brianza“ in Italian) in a tiny village on the outskirts of Milan.
On the night of the concert, my buddy and I drove to this small town not really knowing what to expect. This was in the middle of summer and in the middle of nowhere. As we approached the gates of the venue, we grew skeptical by the minute, wondering if we actually were in the right place at all.
In front of us were a number of large canvas and plastic tents, crowded with middle-aged men and women donning jeans, long hippie skirts and military jackets, setting up stalls selling anything from Che Guevara T-shirts to Grateful Dead DVDs, lava lamps and posters of Woodstock.
Most of the products on sale looked either self-produced (mesh bags, posters, picture frames), manufactured somewhere in Africa (hence “politically correct”), or plainly bootlegged (CDs and DVDs). Drinks were priced real cheap (a pint of beer for 1 Euro??) and food too.
It was like stepping into a huge time machine, taking us forty years back in time! In other words, the atmosphere was unbelievably cool.
Everybody was relaxed and security was next to non-existent. I guess either the organisers knew that only real aficionados would come, driven here by good old word-of-mouth, or they just trusted the seventies’ flower-power-love atmosphere of the event.
As we walked through the stalls in the general direction of the small stage we could kind of imagine in the distance, we noticed something strange and almost eerie: a lot of smiling people around us. The stall keepers were happy to chat, exchange opinions and discuss about music and everything around it. Browsing through a vinyl records collection, we found originals of albums we listened to when growing up and this fact alone triggered a wonderful trip along memory lane. Some of the ladies wore flowers in their hair.
The overall feeling was almost overwhelming, with a tint of improbability and almost surreality, but still pleasant, very pleasant.
It was like masks had been shed, conventions set aside. There was no trace of nostalgia, just people enjoying being themselves and having a good time.
We walked around a good while, dodging mosquitos and cutting through dense incense (and probably some other substance…) smoke, and finally made our way to the stage.
Being musicians ourselves, we started chatting with Joe’s roadies and technicians, checking out the gear on stage and exchanging information and feedbacks. The fact that we were probably the only two guys speaking English in the whole place also helped I think!
When Joe came out with his supporting group, there were no more than 500 people in the audience, all standing in the small space right in front of the stage. I remember thinking “Well, I bet he will just play a few songs and then get the hell out of here”. Boy, was I surprised!
In short, the gig turned out to be absolutely fantastic. Joe and his band played their best music for well over two hours, pulling all the tricks in their bag and spoiling us with three unforgettable encores.
It was just pure bliss! (although an annoying ringing in my ears for the next two days kind of taught me to stand a little bit further away from the loudspeakers next time!).
Later that night, making our way to the car, I started thinking about what I just experienced. I later learned that Joe had a deep personal connection with the organiser of the event, the founder of an Italian organisation supporting and promoting American and indie blues music who sadly had passed away just a few weeks earlier, and that he wanted to play in his honour.
I remember finding that really cool. Here was a major international star artist, who could easily fill arenas of thousands, commanding high fees and frankly any odd wish, playing at a local event for a few hundred people, most probably for free, and giving everything he had.
Made me think of all the people — in music as in business or other areas of life — who “made it” and start behaving like semi-gods, watching others from top-down, feeling superior and generally acting as assholes.
I admit I wasn’t a fan of Joe before the concert, but after that night I started to listen to his music in a different way. A person that shows such integrity, commitment and attachment to values like friendship deserves my respect and admiration, for the man and the musician.
Life is strange, and sometimes the unexpected happens. That night, Joe and his group made this world a little bit better.
Six years ago Joe was already quite well known and appreciated as a very talented American bluesman from New York, but certainly not at the same scale of notoriety as he enjoys today. A wonder-child on guitar, he started touring and playing professionally at a very young age, and matured into a fully fledged virtuoso of the instrument with a deep love for the blues and the roots of rock music.
Just to put things into perspective, he had recently played a sold-out concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London with a certain guy called Eric Clapton.
So I was surprised (and more than a little skeptical) when his name came up in the roster of players that would be on stage at a local Socialist/Workers Unions event (“Festa della Liberazione della Brianza“ in Italian) in a tiny village on the outskirts of Milan.
On the night of the concert, my buddy and I drove to this small town not really knowing what to expect. This was in the middle of summer and in the middle of nowhere. As we approached the gates of the venue, we grew skeptical by the minute, wondering if we actually were in the right place at all.
In front of us were a number of large canvas and plastic tents, crowded with middle-aged men and women donning jeans, long hippie skirts and military jackets, setting up stalls selling anything from Che Guevara T-shirts to Grateful Dead DVDs, lava lamps and posters of Woodstock.
Most of the products on sale looked either self-produced (mesh bags, posters, picture frames), manufactured somewhere in Africa (hence “politically correct”), or plainly bootlegged (CDs and DVDs). Drinks were priced real cheap (a pint of beer for 1 Euro??) and food too.
It was like stepping into a huge time machine, taking us forty years back in time! In other words, the atmosphere was unbelievably cool.
Everybody was relaxed and security was next to non-existent. I guess either the organisers knew that only real aficionados would come, driven here by good old word-of-mouth, or they just trusted the seventies’ flower-power-love atmosphere of the event.
As we walked through the stalls in the general direction of the small stage we could kind of imagine in the distance, we noticed something strange and almost eerie: a lot of smiling people around us. The stall keepers were happy to chat, exchange opinions and discuss about music and everything around it. Browsing through a vinyl records collection, we found originals of albums we listened to when growing up and this fact alone triggered a wonderful trip along memory lane. Some of the ladies wore flowers in their hair.
The overall feeling was almost overwhelming, with a tint of improbability and almost surreality, but still pleasant, very pleasant.
It was like masks had been shed, conventions set aside. There was no trace of nostalgia, just people enjoying being themselves and having a good time.
We walked around a good while, dodging mosquitos and cutting through dense incense (and probably some other substance…) smoke, and finally made our way to the stage.
Being musicians ourselves, we started chatting with Joe’s roadies and technicians, checking out the gear on stage and exchanging information and feedbacks. The fact that we were probably the only two guys speaking English in the whole place also helped I think!
When Joe came out with his supporting group, there were no more than 500 people in the audience, all standing in the small space right in front of the stage. I remember thinking “Well, I bet he will just play a few songs and then get the hell out of here”. Boy, was I surprised!
In short, the gig turned out to be absolutely fantastic. Joe and his band played their best music for well over two hours, pulling all the tricks in their bag and spoiling us with three unforgettable encores.
It was just pure bliss! (although an annoying ringing in my ears for the next two days kind of taught me to stand a little bit further away from the loudspeakers next time!).
Later that night, making our way to the car, I started thinking about what I just experienced. I later learned that Joe had a deep personal connection with the organiser of the event, the founder of an Italian organisation supporting and promoting American and indie blues music who sadly had passed away just a few weeks earlier, and that he wanted to play in his honour.
I remember finding that really cool. Here was a major international star artist, who could easily fill arenas of thousands, commanding high fees and frankly any odd wish, playing at a local event for a few hundred people, most probably for free, and giving everything he had.
Made me think of all the people — in music as in business or other areas of life — who “made it” and start behaving like semi-gods, watching others from top-down, feeling superior and generally acting as assholes.
I admit I wasn’t a fan of Joe before the concert, but after that night I started to listen to his music in a different way. A person that shows such integrity, commitment and attachment to values like friendship deserves my respect and admiration, for the man and the musician.
Life is strange, and sometimes the unexpected happens. That night, Joe and his group made this world a little bit better.