By
ALLAN KOZINN
A
few hours after the second performance of Osvaldo Golijov’s “Pasión Según San
Marcos” ended on Sunday evening, some of the musicians from the Orquesta la
Pasión ensemble reconvened at the Allen Room for what was billed as a jam session
but was actually something more.
Taken
at face value, it was a high-energy concert of mostly Latin American pop, with
European and American undercurrents as well, in the form of flamenco, jazz and
electronic music. But it was also, in a way, a set of explanatory footnotes for
Mr. Golijov’s “Pasión.” His score touched on most of the styles given a workout
on Sunday evening, but here they were played straight, without the alchemy of
orchestral strings and a choir, and with an improvisatory spark, instead of a
composer’s commands, to drive them.
The
program began with what turned out to be the least characteristic performance
of the evening, a spacey rendering of Astor Piazzolla’s “Libertango” by Michael
Ward-Bergeman, who played an amplified accordion, and Dan Brantigan, a
trumpeter, who also tweaked the electronic effects that formed an ambient haze
around the piece.
There
was a touch of mid-1970s proto-electronica in this reading, which was closer to
Tangerine Dream than to Piazzolla. Yet later in the concert — and especially in
the closing jam — Mr. Ward-Bergeman and Mr. Brantigan contributed freewheeling
solos that were thoroughly in the spirit of the proceedings.
An
Afro-Cuban section moved to the heart of the music that inspired Mr. Golijov.
As in his work, the vocal line was central (Damián Alejandro Padró and Reynaldo
González Fernández were the direct, expressive singers), but the percussion
accompaniment was almost as fully in the spotlight. So was dance: Mr. González
Fernández cavorted mischievously, toying with audience members, at one point
taking a woman’s purse and handing it to someone a few seats away.
Ray
Vega, the trumpeter, led the band through his own “Smile, You’re in Beirut,” a
robust demonstration of Latin jazz, and Aquiles Báez played involved,
gracefully harmonized guitar solos in “Para Mis Hermanos.”
But
surely the most unusual solo performance of the evening was by Cristina Pato, a
Spanish bagpiper, who played a wailing, trilling, fluidly microtonal line in
“Alala,” a traditional piece, and “Africa,” a composition of her own. Ms.
Pato’s sound is unlike any bagpipe playing you’ve heard: imagine the timbres of
an oboe, a metal-ready electric guitar and a screaming trumpet rolled into a
single, virtuosic burst of energy.
Between
Ms. Pato’s two pieces, Gioconda Cabrrera Colón gave a soulful account of “Qué
Te Pedí” that morphed into a flamenco section, danced magnificently by Nelida
Tirado, and then into Ms. Pato’s “Africa” and the closing call-and-response jam
on “Kimbara.”