Symphony Hall
23/05/08
jazz-world
Thirteen (maybe someone wasn’t superstitious, though only 12 were named in the advance publicity material; so perhaps someone was after all) of Cuba’s finest, and oldest musicians, including the most famous four named above, performed infectious Latin American dance music with a vigour that would shame many literally half their age – even if a few of them looked like extras from an episode of Last of the Summer Wine, or stray members of a bowls club outing.
A rightly sold-out Symphony Hall spent the evening dancing wildly… no, hang on. A rightly sold-out Symphony Hall spent the evening tapping its feet in restrained fashion. Any dancing in the aisles – even at the band’s invitation – was quickly stopped by the venue’s dour flunkies. Given the number of people who couldn’t even keep time while clapping along, they may have had a point. Even so, and as wonderful as the band’s performance was, heard from a seated position, this event should have taken place in an unseated, or partially-seated venue, where dancing could occur without incurring the wrath of the authorities. We can only imagine the conversation, back in Havana:
“You mean, Jesús, that the crazy English remain seated? Right up
until the last number? And then they are not allowed to dance
away from their seats? And they say we Cubans are oppressed!”
The final memory of the evening, after well-earned encores, was of López, so frail he’d had to be guided to and from his double bass, which seemed to tower over his bent frame, asking to have young women in the audience, whom he obviously couldn’t see, pointed out to him, so that he could hand them the rosebuds from his button-hole. I hope I’m that cool when I’m his age.
