The British singer, accompanied by an orchestra convenes only 25% of capacity. In the end, back, with the strength of his songs, an unbalanced three-hour show.
By Jorge Arenillas
Blades of a symphonic Peter Gabriel Madrid
Concert: Peter Gabriel.
Venue: Palacio de Deportes (Madrid).
Date: 22/09/1910.
Attendance: 3,500 (25% of capacity).
The recent concatenation of concerts aimed at an adult audience (Mark Knopfler, Supertramp, Peter Gabriel and, soon, Elton John and Sting) has made the pocket end up resenting it. Especially when the artists of yesterday presented to fans at prices of tomorrow, for example, which cost 140 euros last night to see Gabriel from the front rows. The consequence of nonsense was that many potential viewers stayed home. To make matters worse, fewer than 4,000 attendees ("Phil Collins would be among them, coincidentally promotional Madrid?) Were shared by several areas because of the diversity of prices, so it was easy to see light in the pit and grandstand seating . Neither the black cloth that covered the highest tier could disguise the skid.
It was nine o'clock when Peter Gabriel, 60, took the stage. He wore a shirt and sweater hybrid that did not conceal his remarkable belly. His current appearance (bright white goatee bald) made him look a bit like Peret. He struggled to read a text in Castilian on the nature of the show we were going to see: his hesitation and the echo of his voice on the heights of the Palace gave him a Vatican Mass air which made all listened in silence. I was only there to present the opening act, one of his choristers, who just played a few acoustic songs before returning to the background.
Fifteen minutes after the curtain rose (actually, an LED display that was several meters) and the New Blood Orchestra appeared , ironic name because most members are mature aged. The first half of the concert, as had explained us Gabriel, cover songs of the disk Scratch my back, while the second would be his own themes, so the first notes of Heroes by David Bowie did not surprise anyone. The sound was powerful and clear, although the singer's voice not extracted from the mix.
We must remove our hats behind a so eclectic repertoire: Paul Simon and Arcade Fire? "Elbow with Randy Newman? The theme of Bowie is the most predictable choice of the entire list. Unfortunately, Gabriel seems to have proposed a study of boredom on how to arrange these songs for a live symphonic. The first act was to test the public's patience with a succession of half times soporific. Point only excelled the cries of Gabriel, as splinters that pierced the brain. The people kept silent until the last note of the song was gone, and then applauded with more education than enthusiasm.
To make it clear that we listened to major music , the singer decided not to move an inch. As the musicians of the orchestra were also up from their stools, captured the attention of the animations of the screen: a jumble of shapes, colors, clouds, staves, red blood cells, a nod to Saul Bass and any nonsense that would have happened to the (desperate) graphic designer, sometimes more taste than others.
The explosion of violins in My body is a cage was one of the few highlights of the first hour of the concert. Impetuous was also input from Regina Spektor Après moi, but only because I think the earlier it's going to rain today for piano and voice had fallen all the pulsations of the auditorium. Once executed (murdered almost) Scratch my back in strict chronological order, the musicians left for a break of twenty minutes. An assistant Gabriel waited at the foot of the stage with a white towel with which to wrap your throat, unnecessary because the British had not perspire heavily.
Everyone rushed to the bars in search of refreshments (pizza and beer last bad shot) to cope with the rest of the concert. Fortunately, the worst was past. On his return, Gabriel having decided to interpret the songs sung well, perhaps because of the confidence that comes from knowing that they are your own songs. The drums (for lack of drums) helped recover some of the spirit, in a show that canonical invented rhythmic base for something.
The audience also brought more heat filling the gaps in the stalls and, just before the encores, as close as possible to the artist (which was still eight feet away from the first row). There were devout among them, as he knelt and crossed himself in the presence of Gabriel. The singer had returned to their fans from the start of the second act, when a spotlight shone ghostly white from below, and he used a mirror to project the light toward the audience with great dramatic effect.
The orchestra overwhelmed at the height of Signal to noise, during which the director seemed to be carving a turkey with his imaginary baton. People roared when musicians greeted. Minutes later it again for Gabriel, when he dropped his hair (metaphorically) and showed his repertoire of leaps, and even Michael Jackson little moonwalker dancing steps to during Solsbury Hill. For practical reasons, only the singer left the stage before the encore, while the orchestra was waiting behind the LED screen, which had fallen again.
In Your Eyes and Do not give up enthusiasm remained high, but the final coda, The Nest That an instrumental sailed the sky, reminded us that not all the concert was so enjoyable. Gabriel came out unscathed from a concert that could have ended his reputation, but most have spoiled their rhythm (eg, reducing it from three hours to two), the impression would have been much more pleasant. Nor was the songs, in short, I feel better a string section a couple of guitars: next month we'll see if Sting has had more luck that Peter Gabriel's time to get to the symphony.
http://www.rollingstone.es/concerts/view/patinazo-de-un-sinfonico-peter-gabriel-en-madrid

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