Live Review: Enrico Rava

Although it may sound like a stereotype, going to a jazz gig always makes you feel really cool. The Basement set-up feels very authentic.

The bar has a rustic feel, with signed posters of various jazz greats hanging on various walls. The room’s dimly lit, almost all of the light coming from candles. It was only the excessive number of dinner jackets and slightly-baggier-than-trendy jeans that betrayed the bourgeois nature of the crowd. Jazz – as a genre – is probably the only thing that has been more gentrified than the current inner west housing market.

That said the talents of 75-year-old Italian trumpeter Enrico Rava cannot be undermined by the fiscal superiority of the crowd. He came onto the stage behind the other four band members. They were all dressed in black, sported questionable facial hair and were masters of their instruments. The show was broken into two sets, both of which lasted just over an hour and were phenomenally tight and smooth. Rava led the band from the front, telling them when it was their turn to solo, or when it was time to return to a piece’s head. He was also phenomenally nonchalant when he wasn’t playing lead, casually listening to what was going on, and having a cheeky groove to himself. When he did play lead, his mastery of his instrument was apparent. Many of his licks and riffs were incredibly technical and yet still quite musical; they weren’t being played simply to demonstrate how capable a trumpeter he was.

What was particularly refreshing about the concert was how little attention the musicians demanded. They would play their parts, casually walk off the small stage, possibly up to the bar and then back to the stage when they had another part to play. It was nice to watch jazz musicians instead of rock stars. It’s their job to be cool and they’re quite good at it.