This gem of a concert and trip to Rome (maybe I will write about Rome later) were planned well in advance, sometimes during the Summer when the gig was first announced, shortly after my attending two of Mr h’s Holidays in Sweden concerts. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into, besides the fact that they played together before and it sounded good. Who are they, you ask? Well, Mr h, of course, the singer of Marillion, no need for an introduction anymore, and RanestRane, Italian progressive rock band, another “why haven’t I listened to this before” kind of situation.

After getting lost in the Roman public transport transfer from metro to train, and ending up staring at a sign on the wall pointing to Auditorium Parco della Musica, the venue of the concert, my excitement for the upcoming event grew even stronger. I only had to wait two more days and I filled those with walking around the city with an utmost desire to go in three directions at the same time and see everything. But the evening of the concert, so longed for, came up at the right time, and the walk to the concert hall (named after the Italian composer Ennio Morricone) fell into the usual ritual that such events lock the audience under. Merch secured, seat taken, phone on silent and that was that. 9 pm sharp Mr h stepped onto the stage with his usual grin, cheeky mood, scrutinising the audience, taking the time to say hello, joke a bit, and get right into the music with Thank You Whoever You Are. It didn’t take long and the piano beginning of Afraid of Sunlight rang throughout the hall, followed by White Paper and Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat“. One after the other, the songs were flowing by our ears, while in front of us was just a man and his piano. Not the usual set-up for a h Natural gig, which, we were explained by the singer himself, was not going to be a usual gig at all, and things were carefully planned and plans needed to be respected.

The four members of RanestRane (Daniele Pomo, Riccardo Romano, Massimo Pomo and Maurizio Meo) stepped on stage during The Deep Water, and joined in playing their instruments (drums/percussion, lots of stuff but mainly the keyboards, acoustic guitar and bass). They played three more songs together (Sounds that Can’t Be Made, Waiting to Happen and Estonia – which I really wanted to hear in this set-up, and which was dedicated to a late fan), before they were joined on stage by the Flowing Chords Choir, who took backing vocals to the next level and completed the sound in a very unexpected way (though the audience was teased with their presence several times before the concert). They swirled through several more songs, with my heart skipping a beat for Nothing to Declare, they nailed Man of a Thousand Faces and left us wanting more with Easter.

Though I missed the usual and rather intimate connection that Mr h manages to establish with the audience during his solo gigs, the interactions and the laughter, I can’t explain how excited I was to see the band at work on stage, and to discover the surprises that they had in store for us, the audience, for the evening. Now anybody that did their research or has knowledge on who was going up on stage in front of them that evening, knew that no less than excellence was aimed to be delivered. And the delivery itself was to be made with passion on the part of everyone performing, from the focus of the guitar player, to the perfectly timed clinks of the bar chimes, from the rhythm of the bass and the joy of its player to the refractive arrangements of various musical instruments and the glee of singing along each lyric that Riccardo Romano doesn’t shy away from, to the harmonies that the choir scattered on top of it all, and above and beyond to the voice, the presence and the performance that Mr h brings with him in his shows, either individually or as the lead singer of Marillion for 35 years (and one week at the time of the concert). Totally different than a usual h Natural show, unlike the artistry and sound of Marillion, unusual, unexpected, naturally peculiar, as the name of the event announced it while playing on a word game merging the worlds of those involved. In other words, I liked it.

Even though I’ve been to many concerts, and I know that they can’t go on and on, as much as I want to sit and listen for hours in a row, the final moments always leave a void in my stomach and the excited butterflies that flutter around the moments before the shows start are long gone. A meet-and-greet, a thank you, a word of appreciation shared can lift spirits and make dreams come true, but can’t match the magic of the moments when the music is live and loud and flowing.