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| Pink Martini |
There are times in life when something happens that,
however quirky and however surreal, it is perfectly suited to the situation.
Last week, finding myself singing along with
four members of the von Trapp family to the Lonely
Goatherd, was just such an occasion.
It was Thursday, toward the end of what could only be described –
at its most polite – as a bit of a bitch of a week, and The Other Half and I
found ourselves traipsing out west for the evening.
It had been six months ago that I’d booked tickets to see
Pink Martini at the Eventim (Hammersmith) Apollo.
A 10-12
piece combo that founder and classically-trained pianist Thomas Lauderdale has called
a “little orchestra”, it has also been variously described as being “somewhere between a 1930s Cuban
dance orchestra, a classical chamber music ensemble, a Brazilian marching
street band and Japanese film noir”, performing something that’s “part language
lesson, part Hollywood musical”.
Or put another way, this is an act that defies
easy and lazy labels.
The Other Half was introduced to Pink
Martini some years ago, by colleagues playing the 1997 album Sympathique in a bar. He bought a
copy – and then introduced me to two tracks in particular: Brazil and Que Sera Sera.
They are glorious versions – the latter,
a haunting track, redolent of a ghostly fairground – and for someone
who still loves all that old-fashioned Hollywood glamour, it was a perfect sound, although it should be pointed out that the Pinks organised and performed in a concert for the Occupy movement a couple of years ago, so for all that rather privileged backgrounds of some members, they’re hardly ‘Establishment’.
We have, in the years since, got most of
their albums, but had never quite managed to catch them on stage – and indeed, had heard
from someone who had seen them live, that they were a little ‘too perfect’ and a
little flat live.
But six months
ago, when tickets for a tour became available, I snapped up a pair – and then promptly forgot about it.
By
Wednesday, when The Other Half reminded me, I was almost relieved not to be
able to find the tickets anywhere: the last thing I felt like was trekking out to
Hammersmith.
The following
morning, however, Eventim proved calmly efficient at replacing the
tickets and left them at the box office to collect, so there was no backing out.
Thursday
turned out to be a nine-hour working day and my eyes were bugging as we caught the
Tube west.
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| The Von Trapps |
A hot dog
from a van, followed by a (vastly overpriced) glass of Zinfandel rosé in the
Art Deco bar served as preparation.
The crowd
was still sparse when the house lights dipped and the quartet of The Von Trapps
came out on stage.
Sofia,
Melanie, Amanda and August are four of six siblings, grandchildren of Werner
von Trapp, the fourth son of Captain von Trapp and step-son of Maria.
As one of
the girls told us, in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s version of their story, Werner is
renamed and becomes the boy who introduces himself to Maria as “I’m Kurt and
I’m incorrigible” (oh, I remember the scene exactly).
This all
won bursts of applause from some in the audience.
Anyway, in
opening the concert, the half-hour set by this young group was charming and
thoroughly enjoyable. It included a lovely cover of Dream A Little Dream and a new song that they had penned
themselves, Storm – but nothing from ‘that’ show.
It was, though, very easy to see how they fit into the eclectic oeuvre of Pink Martini.
I was a
little concerned, however, at the minimal level of atmosphere in the auditorium
– which is a very large one. Would that report of a flat gig prove to be the
same again?
After a
half-hour interlude, on came Pink Martini themselves.
I had no
need to fret. The hall was now far fuller, and it lifted as the band, with Lauderdale at
the piano and China Forbes on lead vocals – looking like Callas in a flowing,
black number – took the evening by the scruff of the neck, zipped up the rhythm
and had the place rocking within minutes.
Witty spoken
interludes included Forbes relating how, after making the mistake of assuming
that some words they used for one of their earliest songs were out of
copyright, they were sued in France – after which the French “asked us for our
autographs”.
They’re playing the Follies Bergères in the next few weeks.
Lauderdale
explained how he composed two different songs from the same classical root – a
Schubert piece. The results were And Then You’re Gone and But Now I’m Back, the first of which features a woman
angrily dismissing her lover after he’s left unexpectedly, while the latter sees him asking to be let back, and coming up with excuses as to his
disappearance.
After
Forbes sang the first, the second was performed by special guest Ari Shapiro –
an American international reporter for National Public Radio who is now based in London, having previously been the station’s
White House correspondent, and who sings (and sings very well) with the Pinks as a sideline.
The first
of these songs segues easily from the Schubert to Latin beats, while the second
moves into a swing style. Both are excellent.
The band seriously upset house management by inviting members of the audience to
come up on stage and dance around them: it’s a big stage and there were, after all, steps on either
side leading to and from the stalls.
Good-humoured
chaos ensued, as a cross-generational crowd piled up the steps and others
danced in the aisles, with senior house staff (“sorry to see it’s a police state”, noted
Lauderdale sniffily, afterwards) desperately trying to stop the fun.
In a technological first (for this blog, anyway) I’ve managed to upload some video footage to give you an idea.
And when I say “cross-generational”, I mean it: Lauderdale had the house lights raised so as to find a 94-year-old woman who attends every London gig they play, while there were clearly children dancing on stage.
Other songs
included a version of Abba’s Fernando – sung in Swedish, with Latin rhythms,
and including the von Trapps as backing – which was just wonderful.
Their complex use of percussion
reminds me of a drum band we encountered at a street festival in Barcelona some years
ago – and which I loved then.
And a special
little mention here for Timothy Nishimoto, who is not only one of three
percussionists, but also adds vocals on some songs, and has some amazing dance moves.
It’s
impossible to sit still to this sort of music: the woman next to me was
managing – although I don’t know how, because I simply couldn’t.
And late
on, the encores – almost an extra mini set – included the Lonely Goatherd with the von Trapps.
Now, if you think my previous
comment of it as surreal is over done, think about it.
These were
four young members of a family that has a genuinely remarkable backstory anyway, which was turned into a stage show and film that became such a smash global hit – it’s
called ‘Rebel Nun’ in Argentina, by the way – that it’s been a substantial boost for the Austrian tourist industry.
Here they
were, singing a song that was written for the fictionalised versions of their own
grandfather and step great-grandmother.
And if you
don’t think that that could ever be out-camped, it can and was – with Forbes
and Shapiro teaming up to ‘do’ Barbra and Judy doing Happy
Days Are Here Again/Get Happy.
Not
forgetting, of course, that to finish things off came the Pinks’ biggest hit,
Brazil, which had people congaing in
the aisles.
Perfection!
It might
have been a torrid week, but I cannot imagine a better antidote. Days later, the
buzz remains.
Indeed, I’d go so far as to say it’s one of the very best concerts/gigs that I have ever been to.
And if you
haven’t heard Pink Martini before – then do yourself a favour.
They have
an excellent website and YouTube channel, which includes footage of the likes of their
version of Fernando, while there are seven
studio albums and they tour frequently.
pinkmartini.com
Pink Martini on YouTube
It’s a rare week indeed when The Other Half and I see two live performances of any variety. But the last few days have gone beyond ‘rare’ and into the downright surreal.
