Your recently acquired fame precedes you. You are young and full of energy, more than you usually need. You appear on stage all dressed in silky white, wearing neither shoes, nor underwear. When you sing, you place yourself against the warm stage lights and your silhouette is redesigned under your clothes. Wind machines gradually loosen your hair, to the point it looks like dancing fire.

You brought your friends with you, whose names I cannot recall, except for Isabella, with her high heels, and Tom, with his magic harp. Together you slightly enchant the audience. We pounce on your loud and slurred rock, and cradle with your melancholic and absent ballads. You request our claps frequently and smile when we scream for your name. You like to be spoiled.

After a while you realize you are not acquainted with the scenario, so you gently ask us to come closer to the stage, in a warm embrace. But you do not allow us to touch you; music is the only connection available.

You smile, once again, as we sigh with your smell of fresh roses. You sing, you scream, you cry, you play, you run, and you dance. And then you go, after a sheepishly thank. You are the ultimate beauty, and that destroys me.

TINKERBELL AND THE NINJA

Last night I watched Massive Attack's concert, here in Lisbon. It was the second time I had the chance of seeing them performing on stage and, once more, I confirmed that this music is not made by enchanted elfs, living in some northern forest, but by real people. Semi-divine beings producing good music to us all, mortals.

For the show, I have no words to describe all that density. From my seat I could see, on several occasions, the trance in which thousands of people came, snaking from one side to the other in a clear line.

But what amazed me even more was the opening of the concert. I arrived late, which is not surprising for those who know me well, and find a good place was not easy. When I finally sat down, I looked at the stage and saw two strange figures. Sitting on my left, my cousin asked me: "Who are them? Tinkerbell and the Ninja?" The Ninja was on the drums and at the microphone, Tinkerbell with a red dress.

The song was ending and the strong applause warned me that there was, standing in front of me, someone valuable. Although initially I did not realize who she was, I was immediately mesmerized by the swing, the rhythm and, above all, the voice. That voice. A warm voice, that stood out the raw and sincere music.

Later, I realized that Tinkerbell was nothing more nothing less than Martina Topleybird, the young sensation in the world of underground London scene of Trip Hop. Having featured several times with Tricky and Massive Attack, she was given the rare honor to tour with the band. To the delight of all present, including me.

Yesterday, Massive Attack gave me some rare moments of excellent music. Were numerous and intense. And today, as I am in Karma Koma, I leave you with the impressive video.