Less spectacle, more authenticity – is that the way forward?

# tags: Shows , Events , Music

In the world of events, we have become accustomed to measuring impact by the number of decibels, the number of moving lights and the scale of the special effects.

We have created the illusion that the intensity of the glow is the same as the intensity of the memory. But is that really the case? I have my doubts. In fact, I am increasingly certain that it is not.

I have seen shows that began with a bang and ended in an empty silence, where nothing remained apart from the photo shared on social media. Conversely, as a professional musician and producer of hundreds of events, I have experienced moments when a single chord, played at just the right moment, swept through the room like a knowing whisper and was etched into the skin of everyone present.

Authenticity does not mean a lack of resources or nostalgia for a romantic past. Rather, it is the art of aligning every gesture with a purpose, of giving meaning to every note, every colour, every word spoken. It is like composing a piece of music: it is not enough to play every possible note—you must choose the right ones and let them breathe. I say this as a composer.

When we achieve this, the event ceases to be merely a spectacle and becomes an experience with a soul. The guest remembers not only the final fireworks, but that glance exchanged between artists and audience, the unexpected detail that seemed to have been thought of just for them, the story that continued to echo long after the lights went out.

Authenticity is also about listening to the place where you are. It is about letting the territory and its people become part of the narrative, not as extras, but as protagonists. It is about replacing the generic backdrop with the living landscape, the artificial props with the elements that already inhabit the space. It is about letting the river, the stone or the silence of a square be an integral part of the staging.

I am not advocating turning our backs on technology, nor giving up visual spectacle. There are times when grandeur is necessary, and even magical. But I believe that the future of the most memorable events will lie in a delicate balance: that of the spark that illuminates without blinding, the sound that envelops without deafening, the gesture that moves us without needing to shout.

In the end, the true ‘fireworks’ are not those that explode in the sky and fade away in seconds, but those that light up from within and continue to burn, unseen, long after everyone has gone home.