Evan Dando He released a solo album about a million years ago, briefly revived the Lemonheads to make money and clean up his accounts and, since then, he appears from time to time like a brilliant comet, a shooting star with an erratic course and uncertain destiny, to give faith that he is still here. Yes, he’s still alive.
In Barcelona, the last sighting occurred in March 2015, when he passed by the Barts room (today Parallel 62) with his acoustic guitar and a cartload of pop anthems from his glory days as a ‘poster boy’ of Generation Z. A identical format to the one that, almost ten years later, was displayed on Monday in The Nau before just over a hundred unconditional fans: twelve-string guitar, binge of ‘It’s A Shame About Ray’ and the uncomfortable feeling of seeing a star clinging tooth and nail to its last reserves of brilliance.
In fact, Dando long ago became an expert in the art of self-sabotage and self-destruction; about tripping over the same rock over and over again (yes, drugs) and taking a long nap while his career went to hell. He even joked about it when he recalled on stage that the last ten years have been a tremendous black hole. Now, he says, he has two albums almost finished, he is having a blast writing his autobiography and, most importantly, he has three years without trying heroin.
The latter, by the way, was also whispered last night during a concert that was a living portrait, inside out and upside down, of a distant and waning star. An almost spectral apparition who stumbled onto the stage through his own songbook, constantly tripping over himself and bending the knee to his lifelong heroes. Disjointed and endearing, almost more the former than the latter, the American began by running over ‘The Outdoor Type’ and ‘Being Around’ and was as generous in the exhumation of old classics as he was flawed in his execution.
With the roosters of ‘It’s A Shame About Ray’ there was even someone who let out a nervous laugh that reappeared later with ‘Confetti’, ‘My Drug Buddy’ and ‘Into My Arms’, pinnacles of a songbook that Dando continues to abuse conscientiously. His voice, it is clear, no longer accompanies him as before, so the whole night was a tug-of-war between a memorable blast, almost always, what things, when he used his old songs, and an impressive resurgence as soon as he approached materials. outsiders and splendid versions of the Replacements (‘Unsatisfied’), Tim Hardin (‘Reason To Bealive’) or Elvis Costello (‘Man Out Of Time’).
Sensational were, almost enough to save a night of babbling, atrocious jokes and almost total sinisterness, the shots ‘Return of the Grievous Angel’, by Gram Parsons and ‘Streets of Baltimore’ by Bobbie Bare. For that alone it was worth it. Well, for that reason and because, after what happened on Monday, it is unlikely that any promoter will dare to bring him here again.
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