Der Himmel über Berlin
Der Himmel über Berlin
I was going down, like reaching hell, following that sad and melodious sound, I entered that foul-smelling cellar where I saw lost faces whom I haven't been seeing for a long time. It was like a shamans and bloodsuckers reunion...all these people coming from another century, dulling their senses with alcohol and music. I like being in this somewhere else, sorrounded by lost angels who desire different lives in timeless places. I like this music while I lie down on the couch, misunderstanding reality for dream. I saw a black and white man going through time, coming back to Berlin.
Davide's tall, dressed up in black. When he bends on the stool, you see his dreadful grey eyes and his bloody sneer. He's like a predator while his guitar seems so sweet and cruel, deep in the heart. His melodies are like prayers in the wind. Like a tide coming back, white sea foam dark in the night, in this hush there's always a music ready to be listened.
Paolo There's something funny in the dark, something I cannot catch. Bent and controlled fingers, beating sticks, fiercely on the drums skins. It's something atavistic which soon becomes hypnotic. His greedy foot tramples down the pedal, I wish I was there when everything began. It's not alchemy what I'm looking for, it's rather armony and cosmos what hauled me up to Paolo who, with shiny eyes, was looking away because rhythm is everywhere.
Stefano The biggest resonating string is held by one finger. The other hand fires another note, again and again, and everything seems to plunge to the indefinite. The breath disappears, hidden by giant notes which forge ahead and overrun the room. They are designed to affect anybody. Waspish people dance histerically while he goes on and on sorrounded by the sound he shaped. A golden rumbling, fleets of notes sailing the air. We are just swamped with them.
Gjorgji Door opened and his face was there behind. He watched everybody looking like he's got no time to waste, although the time left is more than the wasted one. He took the microphone and said something. Music started playing and slowly each word took place. I don't know if he looked in somebody's face but everybody was looking in his eyes. A weeping Madonna stare, flinging ourselves on a load of anything. It has been a wonderful celebration, yeah, a wonderful celebration.