Went to see Mirah’s gig at Init in Rome, yesterday.
Notwithstanding the opening act le truc und die maschine tried hard to spoil the evening, I’ve really enjoyed listening to both Tara Jane O’Neil and Mirah. Their music is personal, intimate and soft. Tara Jane O’Neil’s vocals reminded me a bit of certain Cranberries ballads. Mirah is precise and measured. The arrangements were impeccable: one or two electric guitars and drums. Simple, charming and sweet.
In between acts, we went out to smoke a cigarette and chat under a canopy – each time I go to Init it ends up raining cats and dogs. But not only that: mobile phones, too. At Init yesterday there was a flying Motorola. It flew for something like 15 metres, just behind me. Its owner then picked it up and spent the rest of the night speaking desperately to the mobile itself, talking wretchedly through the mobile to somebody, texting the same person (apparently) and – eventually – tossing it around again, crying.
At times you still have energy left to try to explain things. If it doesn’t work, it’s tremendously refreshing to catch anything near you and toss it in the air. You simply erase your dignity, gather all your energy, pick up just anything and use all your strength, aiming at the wall, the floor (this is OK for fragile things like glasses or dishes) or – in cases of extreme embitterment – somebody else. Among the objects that have been flying around my house: forks, plastic bottles of water (full), bottles of red wine (empty), keys, brooms, cigarette packets, books, dishes full of “penne all’arrabbiata”, an iBook.
My mobile can fly, too. Or swim, actually. But that was an accident.