Jaco Pastorius
Live In Italy

"Alè oh oh, alè oh oh..." chants the very Italian audience. This is how "Live In Italy" begins, a testament to the brief tour undertaken by Jaco Pastorius with Bireli Lagrene on guitar and Thomas Borocz on drums. One of the last (the last?) before his death, about a year and a half later. Jaco is not what he used to be. There's no denying it, part of the freshness of his sound is gone, buried by the alcohol and drugs that the bassist always refused at the beginning of his career: "I don't need that stuff, man, I'm already high on my own."

You didn't need it, but in the end, you gave in and never came out of it, and in 1986, with your story rapidly nearing its conclusion, it was difficult to find a gig, even if you were still praised by the crowds. "There's still room for one last hurrah," you must have thought to yourself, and by some miracle, you're given yet another chance and set out on this tour. In March, you're in Italy, playing. Okay, your technical level had been matched by others in the meantime, but you are Jaco. In short, you owe us a little farewell gift, a goodnight kiss. And so Bireli starts with that guitar that's a bit funky and so deeply gypsy, he improvises and suddenly distorts, and there comes the riff of "Smoke On The Water". What?!? No worries, he's pulling our leg, it's just an intro for "Teen Town". Ten minutes of great music, with Lagrene unleashed and you being Jaco, despite everything. It won't be like the glory days, but you're still the best and it shows. Nor have you lost your eclecticism, which drives you in a daring reinterpretation of "I Shot The Sheriff", with Borocz excelling, along with you and Bireli, who have been shining since the first note of the evening. Then there's "Continuum", and here the emotion is strong: there's just the bass vibrating the air. Undoubtedly not the best version of the piece (in fact), but it's quite heartfelt. Like the subsequent "Fannie Mae", a classic R'n'B piece you often love to play, trying your hand at singing. But here you don't sing, there's no room for words: for three and a half minutes you support an incredible Lagrene with a walking bass, who gives his all here. And then you soar, once again, before passing the baton back to Bireli, who brings the piece back to earth.

I've always wondered why at this point you decided to perform "Black Market". A tribute to your friend-enemy Joe Zawinul? I'll never know, but the fact is you play it, and it's not terrible, it's just that without keyboards, the piece loses a lot. But you do it anyway, and come on, the class is still there, and in the end, Zawinul can't complain that you ruined one of his best songs. Maybe it's your way of saying your usual "Who loves ya, babe?" (in American slang: "Who loves you more than me, friend?"). After that, you bid us farewell with the eight minutes of "Satin Doll" and rest assured that Duke Ellington is not turning in his grave: the touch is still there, the talent too. After this swinging farewell, the lights go out, and everyone goes home. You will die a year and a few months after this concert, and then what's the point of telling you, you know better than me. But let me tell you that the album is excellent, without having the innovative fury of the eponymous one or the crystalline beauty of Word Of Mouth, without the perfect blend with Joe and Wayne. It's excellent because you are still Jaco, and you know how to play, and you put your soul into it, actually pouring it into every note, shaking it, abusing it, and then loving it. And you do it because you are the best, and here you showed us for the last time. How I wish I could have been there.

Who loves ya, Jaco?