Baptiste Herbin Trio – Django!

I’m sure (and when I say sure I mean sure) that some people will exclaim: “Ah! Ah!: Herbin on coke! Well, let me tell you, they’re totally wrong. From now on, I’m not going to talk to them, because they’re rascals, slobs, curmudgeons… even cowards I don’t really care about.

Master Baptiste Herbin (Herr Doktor Herbhein), across the Rhine and all the way to the Czech border line?) is not the type to snort anything before or after playing or recording. He doesn’t need or care (thermal? Of course not, nor does he run on acqua simplex, halal or otherwise). What’s more, he’s chosen as partners two maestros as clean and as strong as he is in their fields. And the reason I use the plural in these two words is that Sylvain Romano and André “Dédé” Ceccarelli are not only masters of sumptuous, deep bass (one) and crackling, bouncing drums (the other), but also masters in the art of the trio, with piano, guitar or – in this case with alto sax.

Admittedly, the alto or soprano trio is not – unlike their larger (by size) brother the tenor – one of the most widespread. The reference in this field (I was going to say “idiom”) is obviously Lee Konitz’s “Motion” for alto and Steve Lacy for soprano.

But Baptiste is by no means a Lacyesque nor a Konitzian, since unlike his late elder US Jew of Polish origin he in no way disavows the mark that the Bird placed on him post mortem (Bird, not Baptiste who has gone off to enjoy a happy as well as spirited retirement – if he can spell the word “rest”, you can smoke, as they say in the army) with obvious benevolence, and this from an early age. Under this tutelage, from which he quickly freed himself after ingesting and digesting its rich substance, Baptiste began to dare in various directions, including Brazil a short while ago and today the territories of the great Manouche (Gipsy) who, like all “travellers” MNES (that stands for Minorities Not Yet Stabilized in the French administrative vernacular, but the civil servants who work there can always brush themselves off: once a nomad, always a nomad! MenNES don’t allow themselves to be confined to shacks or other 400 square meters apartments, unlike others whom my natural and cultural modesty prevents me from naming). Now that this long parenthesis is over (at last!), why don’t we have a chat about moozic, my friends (you’re still my friends, ain’tcha?)? Well, that would take pages, so we’ll keep it short and sweet, which on the Net is by no means an obligation (no even a moral one). No, it’s just to keep you from falling asleep…

So, to begin with, these three stalwarts tackle John Lewis’s magnificent “Django“, which they magnificently enhance with the magic of their diabolical inventiveness. Totally transformed, this “Django“, and I’m sure Lewis and Django are delighted with it, sipping a Caol Ila on their clouds [“Nuages”, French for clouds, is one of Reinhardt’s most famous composition].

As for the rest, they take themes from the Gypsy genius’s repertoire and treat them in their own way, which is thick, fluid, heady and tingling with shared emotions (even with you, dear readers). “Dédé” should be called “Tony Q” (and maybe that’s his middle name, I’ll have to ask him), Sylvano Romain (I call him that to make him laugh) is from start to finish as sumptuous as a Roman emperor, neither pyromaniac nor tyrannical, playing string bass. As for Baptiste, he wears with a modesty matched only by his value (yes, I know: you know he’s great, so I won’t insist) the laurel wreath that adorned the heads of victorious Roman chieftains as they trod the saffron-dusted pavement that has since taken the name of red carpet. And he does it really, really well on both alto and soprano. Why do I keep telling you about Romans? Because I like it, and I liked it once, and I’m sure I’ll like it again asap. Wanna bet?

So, there you have it: three splendid musicians venture into Djangoesque lands and plant a flag with colors as colorful as they are unexpected, which is sure to kill you with delight. Afterwards, you can go and confess your auditory orgasm if you like. As for me, I’m not at all catholic and I’m not a faithful genuflector, so I’ll just enjoy my pleasure, especially as I saw/heard them live in Noyon (but you know that, as the report on this superb little autumn festival in the Oise region can be found on your favorite music website. It’s even signed…