LIVE AT THE ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL

With John McLaughlin's Live At the Royal Festival Hall live grand album, a small token of an extensive tour he did in 1989/1990 with the JMTrio (including in a Zagreb days or weeks ahead of war), every listener gets something special prepared for him. This is actually one of my childhood jazz albums, but until recently I was way close-minded and jazz-offed as to observe how, though in a conservatory artistic way, this is a phenomenon. Maybe one only thanks to music, compared other equally flourish lives held by McLaughlin, nevertheless one definite. Searching an expression isn't exactly the big mood, since things are influenced by nothing but the masterful talent and inspiration of the artists, in front of a unpanicked experience. The last solid albums are far to remember, whether the questionable polish of a fusion bang (such as that of Music Spoken Here) or of the bits of pieces collectible, still, from the Mahavishnu straight essence; yet that counts in such a little manner. The time of this concert is fresh, it's "now" and it's for ever. The feeling, at least, is a bit more endless than the word itself is imagined.

John McLaughlin Trio featured on this tour the incredible Trilok Gurtu, par an impressionist in his percussion par an artist beyond his craft and dazzle, and Kai Eckhardt-Karpeh, a gifted soul. The trio continued music after this year, most profoundly coming the charming and aromatic release Que Alegria, a work, itself, good to light the fire and keep the jazz at a quality both traditional and spice-modern. Also playing in the album will be Dominique Di Piazza, who eventually will replace Eckhardt-Karpeh. The reason for a trio feeling, in Royal Festival Hall, is pretty much the basis for which the concert is highly successful and excellently drawn. Mirth craft by both an individual possessive interpretation and a long-forgotten strange accent, in order for the trio sound to be mystifying. In a credentialed way, Eckhardt-Karpeh doesn't have the shine of McLaughlin and Gurtu, but that doesn't change the music dramatically. The solos are, themselves, in a state of individual art and measured performance, since the detail is to captivate, barely to collapse. The trio definitely had good moments of music and jazz. But right in Royal Festival Hall, such words are pretty much simple nuances ; the records spins frantically the high impact, instead.

Interesting to note is the music's entire character, ultimate and indescribable, over a bit less granting idea that the concert is in a blissful context, or that the trio steams towards a perfect grace (in fact, the essence of the jazz art is what makes me believe so much that, except the San Francisco monument concert of McLaughlin, Di Meola and Lucia, I haven't heard a better live album with McLaughlin). Great moments acoustically happen with McLaughlin's Photon guitar, a craft hidden, of course, beneath the waves and the groove.

The vibes and emotions pick up from where the music is peaceful played or "sharpshooting" sojourned. Blue In Green, after M. Davis, is piquant, but syrupy artistic, serving a lounge music for a beginning treat. So are the next two pieces, worked after an essence by Forman, the shorter medley giving grace and power, while the other one is the example of stable art, in more or less subtle moves. Florianapolis is of a sought-after discrete grand play than of a purely exciting jazz arrangement. Mother Tongue is the grand piece of the evening, based on a language of jazz and form already acquainted, but much surrounded by special signs and, midst an improvisation of sound and shapes, having an incendiary solo by Gurtu. Blues For L.W. (easter-egg: Blues for Lech Walesa) is the ending gem, at first with sorrow guitars and lines of noteworthy slowness, finishing with an ecstatic original voice improvisation. Just like the crowd erupts and the refinement melts your jazz senses all the way, the whole album ends up being regarded as amazing and special.

Highly acclaimed without a sketch of a new impression (or with a sign that it loses down the old-churned pleasant admiration), the Royal Festival Hall John McLaughlin Trio concert holds more special its value, its jazz gift and, lastly to resound, its humble respect for music. The rest is between magic and a splashing grand memorable performance. Greatly recommended.