With arms outstretched to the sky as if imploring the god of time to finally grant his request by stopping this terrible wait, the Berlugan audience of that evening was shouting at full lung the first name of the one who arrived the next moment, sporting a broad smile.
From his height of “1m60,” the giant moved towards the edge of the stage in an uproar that even Nice must have heard. The magic was only beginning because as soon as the first note played, faces lit up. Smiles sprang up throughout the garden, regardless of the face that entered his field of vision, whether in front, to the sides, or perched in the olive trees.
Neither dexterity nor ease could describe his naturally fluid play.
Joe Satriani plays the guitar as others breathe or walk, and this is nothing new.
This fact, however, could not alone make him a legendary figure but indeed a true beast on stage.
This genius masters the universal language of chords. He perfectly substitutes the use of his voice and words with six strings and a pick.
There is no barrier between those moved by the flow of the music.
He amuses, strolls, and swings; he jokes and exists. In the end, nobody could say who enjoyed it more.
Emotion flowed throughout the concert.
He speaks a few words of French, triggering a barrage of screams, then announces a track from his latest album “Super Colossal.”
Eyebrows furrow, some study, others focus, and inevitably all come to appreciate it, even keeping the beat. The master smiles; all has gone very well.
It’s hard not to find one’s place in a universe as vast as his.
