Diamanda Galás - Live - Meltdown - Royal Festival Hall

There is little point trying to deconstruct or criticise. Anyone who tries shall likely be smote down. Suffice to say I left the venue feeling humbled and oddly sorrowful. I mentioned this feeling to my friend, who informed me that previously he had involuntarily burst into tears at the end of her performance. The venue was nigh on sold out. Not completely, but considering the size of the hall --this was no little pub venue - it was a packed out concert. In true classical style latecomers were not permitted to enter the hall once the performance had started and had to wait for an appropriate wave of applause. I found myself barely able to breathe, let alone talk or move. Good artist - crowd respect there. The clientèle was surprisingly mixed. Obviously there were the die hards and the down and out goth subculture freaks. Then there were the intellectual studenty types (pretty sure my friend and I fell into that one) and a small smattering of punks and normal looking folk. I like to think that Diamanda was in some form pleased to see us. She offered a small favourable smile of gratitude at our standing ovation. I'm pretty sure the rest of the time she just wanted us to go away and die. Aaaah. I love her. Death Will Come and Will Wear Your Eyes 1950 Cesare Pavese. Translation: Marco Sonzogni, David Whitely. Performed by Diamanda Galás, 01/08/2012, London, Royal Festival Hall. Death will come and will wear your eyes - the death that is with us from morning to evening, sleepless, deaf. like and old regret or an absurd vice. Your eyes will be a futile word, a cry kept silent, a silence. Thus you see them every morning when alone you stoop over yourself in the mirror. O dear hope, that day we too will know that you are life and nothingness. Death keeps an eye on each of us. Death will come and have your eyes. It will be like giving up a vice, like watching a dead face re-emerge in the mirror, like listening to closed lips. We will go down into the vortex mute.