Amongst the deluge of Gonzales-related events lately that we’re busily writing about (Paralympics, single releases, forthcoming new album, concerts and so on), there was a fairly low-key milestone celebration that caught our attention as long-time fans: the 20th anniversary of Gonzales’ seminal Solo Piano album. In what appeared to be almost a “pop-up” performance, Gonzales returned to the sonic birthplace of Solo Piano: Studios Ferber in Eastern Paris on Rue Pierre Mouilliard (who was a pioneer in French aviation and is appropriate for a studio that has enabled many songs to take flight over the years). At the heart of Studios Ferber is Renaud Letang, who’s been engineering and producing for almost 35 years, and has a penchant for analog equipment from the 1970s. Renaud, who is a couple of years older than Gonzales may have met Gonzales in the early 2000s at the tail end of Gonzales’ relationship with the ill-fated German Kitty-Yo label. Somewhere between Take me to Broadway and Feist’s 1234, Gonzales and Letang found the time and inclination to record a few short piano pieces that appeared to be the ultimate confluence of Gonzales’ Jazz/Impressionistic roots, and more recent Indie Rock, Prankster Rap and synth-driven Electro releases. In an interview with Philippe Papineau of Montreal’s Le Devoir, Gonzales explained that Solo Piano gave him, “…a certain musical respect,” which has allowed him to continue to take chances knowing that his audience would follow him into whatever genre and sounds provides inspiration.
Happy 20th Solo Piano!
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Just imagine you were coeval with Händel or Mozart and wanted to listen to some music. You would only be able to choose from a selection of three possibilities at the most: go to a concert hall, make music yourself or in case you had the privilege of noble birth, enjoy it as part of the courtly cultural life. Fortunately, nowadays music is always available and repeatable. Still, it felt as if storage data devices haven’t been invented yet, when Chilly Gonzales played the Kölner Philharmonie on December 29th. He introduced so many new, yet unfortunately unpublished pieces that it was a real treat and indulgence, but at the same time evanescence and the knowledge of singularity were omnipresent. The Faustian verse “If to the moment I shall ever say: ’Ah, linger on, thou art so fair!’” could have been the epigraph to this final concert in 2012. Or was it a pointer to the future and into the direction of “more orchestra”?