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Rating: From your correspondent Jake Chambers - vol. 3 (end)
And here we are at the peak of the Padua event, the concert that without a doubt attracted the most attention from the audience. For this last outing of mine, we change location: from the "C.Pollini" auditorium to the central Teatro Verdi, a traditional rendezvous for the city's more prestigious (and social) events.
A beautiful PORSCHE neon sign stands out on the stage (thankfully removed during the concert). We witness the greetings of the Authorities, the floral tribute of the vice-something to the assessor of I-don't-know-what-else, in short, all the bureaucratic formalities of the occasion. Even a representative from Porsche steps onto the stage, having the nerve to say something like: "the emotion this music gives is the same emotion our brand offers." We resist the temptation to tell him where he can shove his luxurious cars, and we patiently await the arrival of the artistic director Claudio Fasoli, the only one on stage who understands anything about music, who briefly introduces the concert.
Finally, here is the Norwegian Jan Garbarek, an imposing figure of an artist who has undoubtedly contributed to expanding the jazz language beyond a narrow circle of enthusiasts, tireless contaminator of jazz with the rhythms and suggestions of his land, a man and musician of many merits.
The lineup accompanying him is certainly above all suspicion: on percussion, the Indian Trilok Gurtu, a musician of great charisma and inexhaustible creativity. On piano, keyboards, and synth, his old collaborator Rainer Brüninghaus. In this group, we've been used to seeing Eberhard Weber on bass, but instead, we find the younger Yuri Daniel, one of those supersonic fingerboard players on the fretless bass that are all the rage today.
Even in this case, the concert (played very generously for almost two hours) unfolds without pause, with solo interventions of great technique and effect acting as a trait d'union between one piece and the next.
And here we come to the first problem: the new compositions don't measure up to those of the past. There is no longer any trace of the long saxophone rides, which seemed designed to be played on an icy tundra, swept by a cold wind. Things pick up a bit with the re-proposal of some classics, "There Were Swallows" and the encore at the end of the evening "Voy Cantando", but the arrangements are calibrated to the limit of preciosity, caressing and harmless.
Everyone is very busy showing us how good they are. Yuri Daniel develops in solitude an intelligent sound architecture that encloses "Cravo e Canela" by Milton Nascimento, which culminates in the choral moment of "Miracle of the Fishes" by Wayne Shorter and Nascimento himself. The keyboard arrangement that Brüninghaus reserves for some themes is anything but understated, "perky" and noisy. There is no intervention of the leader that rises above immaculate technical mastery. The exception is Trilok Gurtu, who delights us in his percussion "happy place," with musically rich interventions that make the strangest and most varied objects sound.
Steel virtuosity that builds a shiny, multicolored but ultimately cold patina, preventing emotions from reaching the audience. An audience that nonetheless showed great appreciation for this new direction, with open applause and a final standing ovation.
A matter of taste. The emotions I received tonight are very little, if I compare them to the memory of a concert by the "Star" trio, which saw our man in the company of Peter Erskine on drums and Miroslav Vitous on double bass. The atmosphere became magical from the very first notes of Garbarek's twisting soprano sax, and the trio enchanted the audience throughout the concert: you couldn't hear a pin drop.
I reiterate my great esteem for the Scandinavian saxophonist, and I don't want to automatically join the faction that says: "Garbarek is artistically dead." I have never stigmatized the second phase of his career, the more "soft" and singable one, which in my opinion has produced suggestive and intriguing albums like "Twelve Moons," "The Legend of The Seven Dreams," and "Rites," even if far from the visionary musician of the European quartet of Keith Jarrett, or works like "Afric Pepperbird."
Having said that, I must admit there is a word that surfaced in my mind throughout the review, a word I tried to avoid or dodge with paraphrases, and which I must write down out of honesty toward myself and my readers.
Boredom.
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