“I EXPECTED more,” was the mutter that trailed out of the Skali Amphitheatre on Tuesday night as the capacity audience filed up the stairs after Cesaria Evora’s concert. It makes me wonder about the expectation levels among Nicosia’s dilettante arty-set.
For a group of supposed music-lovers, their disappointment betrayed a base ignorance of a beautiful performance’s most fundamental elements.
What we were given on Tuesday night was a fantastic voice from Evora, a woman who has spent the last 50 years of her life working her way into the hearts of planet’s World music lovers. We had note-perfect execution from brilliant musicians, excellent lighting, absolutely faultless sound production and minimalist sets that relied on sheer talents to hold them up.
We did not have: a tacky floor show, unnecessary pyrotechnics, pointless inter-song banter (where to find a Greek-Crioulo translator?) and sundry pretentious guffle that would detract from a group of consummate musicians calmly delivering a very classy product. What you saw was what you got and there’s not doubt what you got was great.
The concert didn’t kick off until an hour after the time written on the ticket – which contributed in making the entire experience a little less bearable for those who showed up on time and early. Evora also looked notably uncomfortable in the evening heat – she could barely stand up – but how much are you to expect from a 63-year-old, heavily overweight woman standing barefoot in the middle of the Nicosia summer heat? Would you have your sister/wife/mother do the same?
The audience was not wholly ungrateful either. Though they squirmed and chatted through the duration of the concert, every song’s end was met with warm appreciation. When Evora stopped mid-set to have a cigarette and let the band take over in a warm instrumental, her unintelligible banter as a way of explanation was met with genuine laughter and strong applause.
Granted, £35 for a one-and-a-half hour performance might be a bit of a stretch for many punters and a 1,200-seat amphitheatre was probably not the most appropriate host for Evora’s intense and intimate fusion of Afro-Portuguese music.
The price is problematic every time. In years gone by, it’s what we used to brush aside as being a side-effect living in the remote reaches of both the Middle East and Europe. Now that we’re officially a part of Europe and privy to their better transportation prices etc., I hope that things could change. More bums on seats mean more international events for the island but we need to be enticed to the box office first.
The issue of the venue is up to the organisers. I would have happily paid the same price for a more intimate venue – which might then have been split up into more concerts all over the island. I also would have thrown in a few quid extra to pay the Mayor of Aglandja not to climb up on the stage and give an impromptu speech and the key to the city to a woman who had no idea what he was talking about, but ‘pulling a Zampelas’ seems to be turning into the exception rather than the norm for the island’s wannabe-elite.
Evora is unique: she is neither a Vissy or a Vandy. She is a one-woman testament to what can be achieved through sheer talent alone. She comes from nothing, she represents very little except an exceptional ability to sing the Blues of Cape Verde, but if you’re a real music lover you don’t need very much else.
Songs and splendour aside, the evening’s special highlight was Julian Corrales Subida, the classically trained violinist who doubled as the band’s salsa dancer. Imagine a 40-something guy with a paunch hopping merrily in the corner as he produced some of the most amazing noises you’ve ever heard come out of a violin. As a matter of fact, both Corrales Subida and saxophonist Domingo Antonio Gomes Fernandes uses their instruments in a way more reminiscent of a siren’s voice than their humble, earthly materials; a perfect expression of the Zouk/Morna style they were there to convey.
