Left - Roberto Fonseca. Photo - Christina Jaspars VIAnother night under the Hemispheres banner, in the concert hall of the SOH (which my companion reckons is in dire need of a rethink, resembling, to him, some semblance of heavyhanded Soviet interior design), brought Buena Vista Social Club pianist (succeeding Ruben Gonzalez) & former child prodigy, Robert Fonseca, to the fore. Jumping, after 4 solid years, from drum to piano stool, Fonseca has toured Italy with a pop-rock singer, traversed hip-hop and much other territory, to emerge at the forefront of modern jazz, nudging the boundaries; nibbling at the edges; pushing the envelope. He has, inevitably, been compared with contemporaries, such as Herbie Hancock, another well-noted for his lyricism.
In observing the masters of Cuban music, such as the aforementioned, RF learned his 'less is more' lesson and has since interpolated the philosophy, palpably, into his recorded and live performances, with his adoption of a percussive, chord-driven style, which emulates Afro-Cuban rhythms. Of course, when his fingers do take off, it's fluid; a veritable cascade of tinkling ivories. So, while the foundations are unmistakably Cubano, the walls are built as much on Keith Jarrett as anything else. Which is all good.
The Cuban flavour was imparted by the half-hour warmup act, 'Cuba Baila!', comprising dancers Yarima Gavilan, Fraudy Martin Estrada Megret, Adrian Medina Scull and Sergio Sieres, and sometime anthroplogist, Adrian Hearn, who encultured us with folkloric orishas (if I have it right), literally meaning deities: dance homages to the gods.
Hearn sang the opening hymn; to Eleggua, the god (from a pragmatic pantheon which would seem to provide for all things) who opens events, appropriately enough. He also played bata (drums). He's a local, too, so we've a chance to see him again, as his performance schedule builds to a crescendo.
There was son, a style of music that harks back to the 20s, at least; one familiar to the ears of BVSC fans, whether they know it, or not. Then, rumba; the real deal, of which there are numerous styles. Finally, street salsa; so much more energised and impassioned than your local, suburban class. It was a colourful, charged, even electric opener; one was transported to downtown Havana.
Anyone expecting a rerun of the 'Club' could've been quite disappointed: while Fonseca didn't hesitate to build-in familiar motifs, this was a concert more about his take on jazz, albeit in humble homage to his countrymen & heroes.
He comes to jazz, unapologetically, via soul and funk, too, evidenced by his parting gesture, pre-encore, in which he unseated himself from the Steinway and took up clavinet.
Though Fonseca is the centrepiece, with the enthusiastic acclamation befitting his perceived and actual status, he is first among equals, such are the talents & capacities of his band-members, consistent with the lineup for his latest album, Zamazu; each of a calibre making him worthy of an individual essay.
Emilio del Monte, on percussion (essentially, congas & a Turkish darbuka), has the kind of self-assurance one rarely encounters in this part of the orchestra; unafraid of complexity, or deviations from the core beat, he shows restraint, taste and finesse, which amount to even rarer qualities, in any young musician.
Javie Zalba, on clarinet, saxes and flute, is every bit a match for Fonseca: in a word, astonishing; every solo pouring out with the seeming ease normally associated with gravitational force. His is a musical force to be reckoned with, but not easily competed with.
Ramses Rodrigez, sticks flying 'round his kit, as if a cat has just landed among pidgeons, like del Monte, fearless in the face of Fonseca's more-or-less constant changes, challenges, teases, taunts and baits, grinning from ear-to-ear: it seems the tougher it gets, the tougher he gets going.
Omar Gonzales, on electric upright bass: holding his fire in his belly, saving every ounce for one tumultuous, jaw-dropping solo.
Fonseca himself, resplendent, flamboyant, in trademark, designer leather fedora, riveting, head thrown back, like Stevie Wonder, leg swinging, like a gleeful, pig-in-mud child, leading the band, like The Duke, or Basie, a once-in-a-lifetime bandleader's bandleader. An astonishing arranger, he writes and plays pieces, as I alluded above, with Cuban undercurrents, or splashes, rather than easy evocations of his country and culture. Fonseca's on a mission, to show the world Cubans are about more than mojitos, cigars, cha-cha-cha and lazy, sun-drenched days at the beach. Like the dramatic, moody blue, purple, tangerine and lime lighting, Roberto is eager to reveal the full palette of Cuban colours.
A disembodied, offstage voice, opening his set, was that of his mother, Mercedes Cortes Alfaro, a chorister, dancer and guitarist. This typifies Fonseca's (and, I think, Cuba's) romantic, sentimental, nostalgic, poetic reverence for his roots and influences. Family first, in a way Steve Fielding can only but dream about. Making affecting announcements about beautiful people, who we all love, passed on (like incomparable vocalist Ibrahim Ferrer, for whom Fonseca enjoyed the honour of producing an album, or bassist Orlando Cachaito Lopez, persons tantamount to family, since music flows like blood through Cuban culture), Fonseca charms, with his broken English, a disarming contradiction in terms: remarkably self-assured in situ, yet personally observing what Ferrer, a great human being as well as singer, taught him so well, to never forget what & where you came from.
With his dreamlike musical portraits delicately perforating one's soul, one is no more likely to forget, than he, what & where Fonseca comes from. Viva Cuba!
Roberto Fonseca
Venue: Concert Hall
Dates/Times: Monday 9 March @ 8pm
Duration: 2hrs and 30minutes
Tickets: $44 - $89
Bookings: (02) 9250 7777 | sydneyoperahouse.com
Visit: www.robertofonseca.com
