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Wednesday, August 10, 2022

When Diana Krall trembles, the botanist trembles

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Let’s officially announce it: Madrid loves Diana Krall. Another thing is that love is mutual because nobody said that things of the heart always happen in a harmonious and bi-directional way. The undisputed dominance of female vocal jazz for the last quarter century landed this Sunday at Noches del Botánico with the game won in advance, paper pulverized at the box office (2,300 viewers, all seated) and an audience yearning to rediscover it a voice that has been missing since before the pandemic. And the Canadian responded with that shyness or reticence that sometimes seizes her on stage, as if letting herself be loved weren’t a completely overblown sensation in her artistic imagination. Despite everything, he gave us 125 minutes in the end great concert; the unseen, by extension and intensity, as far as memory can reach.

This time there were good reasons for relaxation. No one came to discover Diana, but to recreate with her and everything she represents: elegance, subtlety, suppleness. The grand dame of British Columbia hasn’t released an album in a few seasons, but she has This dream of you (2020) was just a sequel to Turn up the silence (2017), the remaining material from these sessions with his great mentor Tommi Lipuma, who died just before he saw this work on the shelves. So Diana didn’t have to present a world premiere or manage mortgages in the repertoire. He was able to move freely and with the wind in his favor right on the last day of his tour. Delight, delight us. And when he manages to disable the emotional parking brake, the result is gorgeous.

Diana Krall accompanied by her band during her performance at Noches del Botánico, Madrid.Víctor Moreno (Nights of the Botanist)

The singer and pianist sits in front of the keyboard without any rituals or preambles at the opening where or when, a Rodgers and Hart classic that springs from it rather lazily. It is intoned by i don’t know enough about you Y All or nothing, with extensive instrumental interludes and already committed to the task with his three accompanists. A let’s fall in love, by Harold Arlen, gives it a whispery, sweeping treatment, while Anthony Wilson gives the guitar silky caresses. But the actual click happens first I got used to his face, another of those paradigmatic tracks in the Great American Songbook, but not one of the most common in the tour’s repertoire. Well, Krall approaches it from a very subtle vantage point, with the first verse in utter solitude and the accompanying trio wrapping it up afterwards with brooms for the drums and lots of egg yolk and little nails to the strings. It’s ten thirty and suddenly the silence in the garden thickens, the sound of footsteps in the stands dies down and even the night itself trembles as Diana exhales her last tremors.

It happens again and again that we try to determine the scope of great loves: it is important to tremble. Krall multiplies his excellence when he parks his desire for perfectionism and leaves the door open to the unexpected. It suits him very well, for example, that his usual stint in the (sublime) Tom Waits songbook this time around isn’t in a slice of troubled love, but in this villainous and spirited monument Jockey full of bourbon, for which drummer Karriem Riggins reserves some nice drumbeats and nothing spectacular. But it gets even better with Maybe the devil will carethe most choral and participatory piece of the evening and perhaps also the most celebrated.

Out of In the early morning hours, overwhelmed and at the time of the lecture the emotion appears already closely mixed with melancholy. Krall fuses Sinatra’s piece with a beautiful piano adaptation of Another day, one of those dozen works of art in Paul McCartney’s catalog that almost goes unnoticed given the richness of his genius. And in it we realize that Macca has just turned 80, that the city’s first exciting July since 2019 has just slipped through our fingers, and that it’s time to travel again – or maybe hike – as Hal Kemp puts it would (and I would paraphrase Sabina), along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams It will end up silencing even the birds. Raised Wilson on acoustic guitar, trembling every note and emphasizing left-hand fingers touching and sliding. stands before a Cheek to Cheek very contorted and mischievous, deliberately chaotic, insane in those stretched and contracted bars, with Robert Hurst giving himself the pleasure of stopping time, and not just tempo, by transcribing notes down the neck of the double bass. It’s a pity that the coda stretches out more than is reasonable and, above all, necessary, and so there was a scuffle in this grandstand before the encore, which yesterday didn’t stop screeching and swaying.

That’s why This dream of you (2009), Dylan’s late masterpiece, finally spilled its seedy beauty over an already half-baked venue. It was nice to end the meeting, up to the 47th day of these botanical nights, with a song about an impossible love; the one that always threatens to happen between Madrid and Diana Krall. Although after nights like yesterday it’s impossible not to keep the flame of hope alive. Incidentally, the festival’s balance sheet already at dawn spoke of 70 artists (including main artists and support acts) and 120,000 tickets sold, at a rate of more than 2,500 per night on average, compared to 90,300 in the 2019 edition With the height, hey, as they say would.

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Source elpais.com

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