Sting & Shaggy at the Ancient Theatre of Taormina...

And for one evening, Taormina dresses up as Kingston...

The concert-like atmosphere lasts ten minutes, with the audience politely seated in their seats, intent on listening to the songs that the duo Sting & Shaggy perform from the stage of the Ancient Theatre of Taormina. Just enough time for a reggae-inspired version of "Englishman in New York."

Then the pace picks up, not even that slowly. You can follow the following songs with relative ease. At the bass attack that introduces "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic," someone in the audience breaks the silence. He's already on his feet, practicing a few tribal dance steps and, intent on picking up the slow, swaying rhythm typical of this Jamaican culture, he doesn't notice the thousands of other spectators who have already been singing and dancing for a few minutes behind him.
 

Reggae has this unique ability to dissolve inhibitions, even in those who go to concerts, thinking they can control their modesty. It's impossible to resist, just as it was impossible to resist in the '80s when people went to see Bob Marley perform, the undisputed father of this musical genre.

And it's precisely to him that this concert seems dedicated. To his music. To his ideas of freedom and brotherhood among peoples. Those topics that the banality of a distracted life often causes us to set aside, too dangerously. "Get up, stand up" was the call to life that Sting and Shaggy shouted to us from the stage throughout the evening, borrowing the cry of rebellion launched to the world by Bob Marley, from that Caribbean island that, before him, many of us couldn't even locate on the globe.

The songs, the music in general, the words spoken by Shaggy who incited the spectators to open their eyes to a world, whose decency is giving way to a new wave of abstract protagonism, with which, once again, to claim an ideological superiority, even before a racial one, in the name of a vulgar, insignificant and 

That stage, which kept the thousands of people singing and dancing for over two hours, brought together cultures and a desire for communication, the essential DNA of every musician, there to share the only possible way to live in this world. Dominic Miller, along with his son Rufus, now established guitarists on Sting's recent productions, represented Argentina. Josh Freese, drummer and another faithful companion, kept time from the United States. The two vocalists, the splendid Monique Musique and Gene Noble, with South American names and features, where ethnic ties have always followed the pace of human evolution. We also mention keyboardist Kevon Webster, who added that exotic touch necessary to complete a message that unites everyone within a single human race.

There was a moment during the concert, while our minds and bodies were carried away by the reggae sounds, at times wilder, at others more bewitching, of the historic "Roxanne," "Every Breath You Take," or "Walking on the Moon." Yes, there was a moment, while the audience was completely captivated, prey to a harmonic delirium to which they could abandon themselves, that we had the feeling that that message of solidarity, brotherhood, and love—whether it was kept in a bottle, whether it was softly pronounced through a light breath or came from the tears of a star—was addressed to some clearly identifiable political figure, beyond that sea of people under the stage and in the stands, ready to absorb it without hesitation.

We glanced back, for a moment, naively, searching among the crowd for some possible recipient of that cultural and multi-ethnic missive emanating from the stage. We didn't see any particular figure who could provide us with the answer. Neither an American president eager to build walls, nor an Italian minister eager to close ports. Neither, fortunately for us...

(c) Girodivite