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And they gave her a frosty reception as she walked through the
auditorium and down towards the stage - prompting her to shout "This
ain't no church, but it ain't no funeral either!"
It wasn't clear how the evening was going to pan out from here, with
Gardot's first movements on stage revolving around a curious display of
falling to her knees, pouring sand and then looking at it
contemplatively - presumably making some reference to the passing of
time and the general futility of existence.
This was quickly followed by some distinctly abstract sounds
emanating from the instruments on stage - all very much at odds
with the general laid-back vibe of her albums. For her part, Gardot hoiked herself
over the front of a grand piano and proceeded to twang the strings
inside, rather than the more usual method of sitting down and tickling
the ivories. What the people who have to the maintain the Steinways of
the Southbank Centre made of her antics isn't known.
Eventually this tomfoolery gave way to something slightly more conventional, in
the form of The Rain, from her most recent album My One And Only Thrill.
It felt impressively intimate, given the size of the venue, and the crowd
threw its weight behind her after Your Heart Is As Black As Night.
After introducing her saxophonist Irwin Hall - who she only met a
month ago, at the Tokyo Jazz Festival - she left the stage,
noting that we'd be venturing to Paris through the soundscapes he was
about to create. She left us with the memorable thought: "Please
consider any turbulence to be a butt massage". Hall's musical abilities had
not been understated - he'd been a strong performer all evening, and at
one point during his solo was playing two saxophones at once; no mean feat.
Returning, Gardot seemed to have settled down and looked like
she was enjoying herself a little more. She thanked the audience
for their patience, and noted that it had been "a long day and a long
tour", as well as being the second anniversary of her first coming to
London.
She served up some wonderful Brazilian rhythms during If The
Stars Were Mine, which built upon the album version, and also included
touches of exotica in the vein of Les Baxter. Moving across the
continent, we also had a dash of tango during Love Me Like A River
Does.
Gardot recalled a story about being stranded in Portugal for a while
when she lost her passport, and encountering the word "saudade", which is
particularly difficult to translate, but roughly means longing for
something or someone that you love and which is lost. It was a preface
to performing Deep Within The Corners of My Mind, and gave it a rather poignant dimension.
Things headed in a bluesy direction with Who Will Comfort Me, albeit with
half-hearted singing along by the crowd, when directed. An a capella
version which followed shortly afterward seemed to be the encore, and
people duly applauded and made for the exits.
But after a short while the band came back on and played a killer version of the jazz
standard Caravan, a piece first performed by Duke Ellington back in
1937. It was rather unexpected, and ended the evening on a high. Getting
the crowd back on her side was a big ask, but she managed it.
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