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Rating: There is always a grain of madness in love, just as there is always a grain of logic in madness (Nietzsche).
The concert is scheduled for 9 p.m., I arrive at the theater with just a quarter of an hour to spare. I've booked the tickets for a long time, so there's no rush. At the entrance, a friend awaits me, already in excitement. I understand him, being a pianist, he has a particular interest in Uri Caine. We enter and meet the sound engineer of the concert, who excitedly tells us about the afternoon rehearsals. "I have no words, he's a train, it's so hot, it will be a great concert", he says to us.
We enter and the hall is already full. There are some empty seats. "Too bad for those who aren't here", I think. The lights in the hall go down and Caine steps onto the stage, where the grand piano is beautifully displayed, illuminated by a soft amber light. Caine's entrance draws a smile. He enters as if he happened to be there by chance, dressed informally in jeans and a t-shirt, says not a word, shows only a nice open smile, and makes a shy bow to the audience, then launches himself at the piano. From the start, it is clear that it will be a great evening. He frantically attacks the eighty-eight keys of the piano, which seem never enough for the graceful dance of his hands on the keyboard. A very fast jazz blues overwhelms the audience for seven minutes, then almost without stopping, he begins to play with musical quotations. He hides the theme in a fog, makes it glimpse, perceive, and then disguises it again until it becomes evident: "Blackbird" by the Beatles.
He plays with his memories and ours, as if constantly drawing from the magma of collective musical memories, which in his hands become clay to shape something new. "Blackbird" disappears buried by a cascade of notes and slowly takes on another form. The aria of the "Goldberg Variations" by Johann Sebastian Bach is woven in. It paradoxically comes to mind that from Bach to the Beatles the step is short. There isn't even time to applaud him as he deserves, because he's back at work. "What do you want to gift us now?", I think to myself. I begin to recognize the quotation: Gustav Mahler. It's the theme of the first symphony in D major, derived from the folk song "Frere Jacques" (Brother John). From this moment, Mahlerian quotations come one after another until one of the most beautiful moments of the evening: the reworking of the famous Adagietto (Sehr langsam) of the fifth symphony, which many may remember as the musical theme of "Death in Venice" by Luchino Visconti.
Breathless, the game continues. Now it's time to recognize the "Diabelli Variations" by Ludwig Van Beethoven, but it's the illusion of a moment. In an instant, Beethoven is dragged away first to New Orleans, then to New York. Music without respite, in constant motion, in short. And more applause. The final part of the concert does not change the path taken. Caine continues to hint, confuse, transfigure distant musical worlds intelligently. The presence of Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker is felt alongside Robert Schumann. It seems a logical, splendid, lucid madness. Until the finale with two jazz classics: "Autumn Leaves" and "Round Midnight". A perfect closure to an evening worth framing.
Good Night Uri.
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