No, not a
bout of megalomania.
You see,
French artists taking some of their roots in Gipsy jazz have been in view of
late at Ronnie Scott's.
Biréli
Lagrène in March, and six months after I finished a post about Stacey Kent with
these words: "Now, if we could bring Cyrille Aimée to Ronnie
Scott’s.", she was indeed the star of the show.
Admittedly,
I had suggested in October that it would be fun to pair her with Esperanza
Spalding playing bass, and that did not happen (although it really would be the
ultimate curly hair match), but I was not going to complain.
It was her
debut at the club, apart from her joining in the jam session a few years back,
and she was touring with her band.
I had last
seen her at another debut, when she sang at the Django Reinhardt festival for
the first time, in Samois, where she grew up, a concert at the end of which I
heard a new friend who had been following them for a while mention how they had
by now gelled into an incredibly tight band. This had been a great,
unforgettable moment. I jumped on the chance to book my tickets, but prepared
myself for a concert that could never quite live up to that of course.
However,
while nothing could ever match the incredible emotion of Cyrille telling her
life story in front of an adoring crowd in Samois, what quickly transpired was
that, over the last 8 months, they had just got better. As I briefly talked to her before the show, I also remembered how her voice is not made for talking, it is made for jazz singing. It is so full of the special harmonics that make her so expressive and credibly stand for a whole brass section that it brings a little oddity to a simply spoken phrase. Add to that Ronnie's is
a very nice scene and the elements were there for a breathtaking show.
Breathtaking
it was from the get go. You could feel the extraordinary complicity on stage.
Soon they were performing Nuit Blanche and I found myself wondering how it felt
for Michaël Valeanu to be playing alongside a song that is so clearly about him
(although he was also exchanging so many playful glances with Adrien Moignard
during their guitar soloes that one of my friends joked that maybe it was them
who were an item).
Ah, Nuit
Blanche... I have been fortunate enough to hear it several times and I feel
safe in saying that there can never have been a better rendition. Somehow, from
the first time I heard it, for some reason the verses have sounded to me like
English translated into French -I know this is silly and the author is a French
woman who often sings in English, but that was the impression. The song seems
to explode with the chorus and the variations. And explode it did! I challenge
anyone to listen to the Ronnie rendition and not conclude that scat is the most
advance form of art. Actually, move over Ella, however much I admire you, at
the moment I cannot think of a more accomplished scatter (and there were many
other such displays during the concert) in the history of jazz than Cyrille
Aimée.
And straight
after that, when Michaël Valeanu followed with his delicate guitar solo
embodying the time passing in that sensual all-nighter, I found myself
refraining from even drinking from my glass, fearing that there would be some
sound disturbing the exquisite music. I could not see anyone moving in the
whole club.
"He
makes a woman out of me" say the lyrics of the song. Well, I'll have to
take your words for that -though I doubt you needed much help- but they sure
make the artist in you, and in each other, blossom.
It was the
show that had everything. The audience sometimes broke into spontaneous
applause not even at the end of a well made solo - but during them, such
was the impression they were making. And -and I hope she won't mind me saying
that- while the show was advertised as Cyrille Aimée, you felt that it would be
totally fine at times to call it "Her band and Cyrille Aimée". Many
times she morphed into a dancer bopping along for long sections of an
instrumental band of incredibly high standards, exhuding a powerful, contagious
joy to be there together.
In this a
special word must be said of Adrien Moignard. They are not a Gipsy jazz band,
but have the lovely touch of having a Gipsy jazz style guitarist in the band
-and an awesome one at that. His playing was the perfect blend of virtuosity,
musicality, inventiveness and humour. A very nice moment came when the two
guitarists were exchanging challenges. Soon enough, Moignard on the acoustic
guitar would play a riff that Valeanu would then mostly replicate. The next one
would be more challenging, until Moignard really let loose and Valeanu audibly
let out in a laugh "Oh putain!" (of fuck, in French). He found a way
to provide a perfectly musical answer, but there was no replication this time.
All in all,
an incredible experience, and probably the most claps I heard after a concert
at Ronnie Scott's. I happened to notice a a senior colleague of mine at the
table behind us just before the concert started. He has been a member for some
time and the next day emailed me "your namesake was exceptional".
Yes. She
was. They all were.
Don't settle
on CDs. Go see them live.
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