At a time when Nicolas Sarkozy is kicking the Rom out of France (let's hope he gets something kicked out of him), it's especially gratifying and uplifting to see compelling evidence of enduring culture no Hitler, in any generation, can kill. There can be no more credible exponent than Lulo Reinhardt, grand-nephew of Django. Just as with the last, it is utterly redundant to describe Lulo as a virtuoso guitarist. One may take for granted his mastery of his instrument, which is comparable to his most illustrious relative. So, too, is Lulo as much composer as player. The fact is, though virtually unavoidable, he doesn't need the cachet of his antecedent at all. Nor does Lulo rest on traditional laurels (much as he draws on his heritage). Lulo brings modern jazz influences very much to bear: if you need proof, look and listen no further than the laidback track on his homepage. (Yeah, laidback sounds so old-school, doesn't it? But then, by dint of birthdate alone, I s'pose I am old-school.) Of course, when we discuss Lulo live, we can hardly ignore what is, in its unexpurgated form, a full, 5-piece band, aptly-named Latin Swing Project. What's in a name? Plenty. Firstly, obviously, it points to rhythms which have clearly, audibly influenced him. Secondly, there's affirmation of his gypsy swing roots. Thirdly, an allusion to modernism.
What's in a band? Plenty. Violinist Daniel Weltinger, for one, who's affiliated with jazz and roots, too, but also brings an experimental bent, by dint of his alter-ego, 21st-Century Diaspora Machine. But whether he's absent from this tour, per se, or was only last night, I'm not quite sure. Fortunately, the other members are so prodigious, while it was a pity he wasn't there, Weltinger wasn't missed. Besides Lulo, there were three compelling reasons for this: Sydney-sourced pianist (well, multi-instrumentalist, truthfully) Sean Mackenzie probably foremost among them. Mackenzie is so dazzling, he rivals Lulo for TKO performance. The constantly competitive, good-natured playoff, between the two, is nothing short of scintillating; a thrill a minute, as they push themselves and each other into new territory and to ever more dizzying new heights. This is, clearly, what keeps the band alive, kicking and in such high spirits: there's a palpable sense of mischievous fun.
Of course, these dynamics aren't restricted to Mackenzie and Reinhardt: the two other German members, comprising the rest of the rhythm section, in Harald Becher, on upright electro-acoustic bass, and Uli Kramer, on percussion. There would seem to be empathy and affection between all the members, each reading the other like a well-thumbed, favourite book.
It's a funny thing, excellence, inasmuch as it tends to render the passing of time imperceptible. Lulo and company's abundant, prolific, two-hours-and-then-some concert was over all too soon. The truth is, I could've sat there all night listening to them. They cross borders one helluva lot more easily than gypsies are typically allowed. Which begs the question, if we're all for it musically, why not geopolitically? Their passports are stamped for rumba, tango, bossa nova, gypsy swing, Latin, jazz, blues, rock and, effectively, any genre or crossover combo you care to name.
Two hours is a lot of music under the bridge, but I'll do my best to recall at least some of it, in some semblance of sequence. (Tell you what, how 'bout not holding me to the sequence?)
There was Mar Y Sol, with its distinctly, proudly Cubano intro: invigorated, passionate, almost stridently, defiantly rhythmic, segueing into melodic Flamencoesque cascades tumbling urgently from Lulo's fretboard, tempered by Mackenzie's hand-rolled Havana jazz chords and the ever-present, genetically inescapable, gypsy-swing sensibility, which infuses the piece, along with its Latino flavour, with such generous heart-and-soul. It embodies the moods of the ocean, subdued by the sun, but made restless by its mistress, the moon. At once tender and turbulent, Becher's punchy bass underpins Kramer's steady percussion metronomically.
Lulo's Tango, with its characteristically emphatic, insistent bravado beat, sits well; the band members' sense of infectious, affectionate fun could be anachronistic to the fervency of the genre, but these guys can do no musical evil.
More Latin jazz comes in the form of Que Pasa, with each musician observing, taunting, pushing and challenging each other. It's an adrenaline rush, just to bear witness: edgy, edifying; the very quintessence not only of live music, but what it is to be alive. This is music as healer. And if you were really listening, you'd have easily picked allusions to Indian and other world music. (Later on in the evening, Lulo had his guitar mutate, through his mastery, into a veritable sitar.) Again, Mackenzie ups the ante, with his soloing always right at the precipice of his almost inestimable skill, a desperately lonely and dangerous place, utterly inaccessible to mortal players. This piece is as emblematic as any for the unity between these musicians. It's more than a matter of being merely tight: they play as one, a colossal collective instrument, over-and-above the characters of the instruments that comprise the band.
By way of contrast, the gentle, romantic dynamics of Waltz For One shows just how restrained and disciplined this band can be, knowing when to let the composition speak for itself, without too much instrumental embellishment: there is elegance in simplicity and Lulo and his Latin Swing Project know so.
Lela pits Kramer's cahon against Lulo's guitar in a very free, Brazilian-influenced excursion, peppered with a hint of, say, the Jimi Hendrix Experience. There are other moments in the concert when Lulo seems to channel everyone from Bo Diddley, via some 'boxy' rhythm, to Angus Young's bluesy lead breaks; in case any evidence was needed this man can do practically anything that can be done with a guitar, and then some.
Going by the duration of his touring, Australia seems to have become a second home and has evidently had its effect: we also heard his new album's title-track, Katoomba Birds. There were compositions from Mackenzie and, if I understood correctly, Becher, confirming Lulo's generosity; he doesn't seek to be the star. In fact, that's another impressive dimension of the band: any competition is purely directed to advancing the music; it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find musicians so relaxed and putting their audience at such ease, as if ensconced in a much more intimate space than Parramatta's Riverside Theatre, even while astonishing with blistering renditions, spontaneously reinvented, or at least tweaked, it seems, on-the-spot, in the moment.
Due and unselfconscious homage is paid to Django, not least in the heartfelt and sweetly melancholic Django's Castle, which Lulo's ensemble seems to lift into a whole new dimension.
They saved some of the best to last, including a spellbinding display of underwater percussion. Yes, subterranean. And Mackenzie proves he's as dab a hand at thumb, as Kurzweil, piano.
In short, there is such depth, intensity, colour and flavour in Lulo and friends' (they really seem like respectful equals, even if each are veritable gods in their own right) superlative performances of such diverse music, it amounts to an aural and emotional banquet. Somehow, they make everything sound native, mother's milk, accessible, connected and interconnected, even when its cultural derivation is quite remote. Nothing is lost in translation. Their interpolations don't dilute authenticity, they merely find new ways of applying influences; underscoring, revaluing, not devaluing.
On the night, only one thing compromised the ambience: lighting. All the more disappointing for the fact that manager and engineer Pixie Michael's sound, aside from some pesky feedback in a difficult-to-mike setup, was quite superb. Indeed, the Sydney Opera House could learn something from Riverside's audio. But the predominantly changeless lighting state (everything on, essentially) couldn't have been less sympathetic or mood-killing. Happily, Latin Swing Project's elan transcends such impediments, like water off a duck's back.
Theirs is rarefied playing of music that has roots growing deep into the earth. But, in this case, 'rarefied' couldn't be further removed from any notions of pretension. These musos make it seem as though you're on stage with them, or sitting in your loungeroom, for a very personal, relaxed and comfortable set. As comfortable as a favourite pair of shoes, or jeans; the ones from which you never want to part. At interval, the band walks out, to sign CDs, intermingled with the audience: it exemplifies their attitude and approach, so refreshingly not rock 'n' roll. Just as refreshing is the odd vocal from Lulo, which comes unexpectedly and shows his sheer delight in doing what he does so brilliantly.
A night to remember. And cherish. Lu-lo, Lu-lo, Lu-lo!
Lulo Reinhardt World Tour
Venue: Riverside Theatres, cnr of Church and Market Streets Parramatta
Date: Friday, 17 September at 7.30pm
Time: 7.30pm
Tickets: Adults $44; Conc $39; 30 and Under $31
Bookings: 8839 3399 | www.riversideparramatta.com.au
