Samarabalouf

I went out last night with a friend to see Samarabalouf. It took almost the entire show, but I think I'm starting to understand jazz.

Samarabalouf is a (gypsy) jazz trio from France. To the uneducated like me, I would describe three-quarters of their songs as "super-fast, DIililililililiiDI" guitar music. You can see a sample video on YouTube. It's the kind of music I've struggled to find any use for in the past - it's too fast to get any kind of "emotional" involvement, and so often comes across as random noise. I can appreciate the technical skill of the players, but is that really what the music is about? Luckily for me they also played 2 slow songs last night, and they really opened my eyes (ears?).

The first came around the 30 minute mark. It was introduced as "a song I composed... in my kitchen... while grating carrots". The music itself starts with the band lead doing some tricks on his guitar, producing a musical version of a carrot grating (surprise, surpise :). The music then transformed into something very sexy and sensual, an amazing sound, before blending back into the carrot grating. I could not believe my ears - this song was brilliant.

Funnily enough, it reminded me of a Bruce Dawe poem that I liked called Homo Suburbiensis; both attempt to to show that, even in the most ordinary of circumstances, we are alive and there is much to celebrate.

The second came around the 90 minute mark, and I wish it had been earlier. It was introduced as "a song for the little girls...", and they named one in particular. The trio dropped their playful attitude and it became an incredibly sad piece of music. Underlying it though was a small note of triumph... again something to be celebrated.

At this point I had a realisation - all of these songs, even the fast ones, were celebrating something about life. I could understand the slow songs because they gave me time to think. The fast jazzy songs celebrate intense feelings, emotions and experiences. Songs that get faster and faster are screaming "there are no limits to this - we can always get more intense". This was a mind-opener for me.

My normal way of celebrating something has been to sit still, be quiet, and practically 'meditate' on what's at hand. For example, I like to sit and cuddle quietly, listen to birdsong, watch the waves rolling in at the beach, or sit through a thunder storm. I focus my mind and get sheer simple pleasure from what I'm thinking about, in all its fine detail. Fast gypsy jazz music doesn't give you time to think and appreciate fine detail like that. It's a celebration of all kinds of pure, intense experiences in life. Approaching the music that way, by the end of the show, I found myself wanting to scream "yee-hah!" with Samarabalouf too.

Except it sounded way too Texan. :)