Daily Blog
Sunday, 07 February 2010 03:02
Written by Jenn Chan Lyman

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Carmona conjures both darkness and light in Flam3ntriko

There’s no better way to brighten a damp and rainy Sunday afternoon than with a dose of southern comfort. I head over to the Shanghai Oriental Arts Center for the JZ Concert Series for Flam3ntriko featuring Abraham Carmona. In a delightful interview a few days ago, Carmona revealed that Flam3ntriko would debut his new compositions, as well as songs from his 2008 album Silencio.

The concert hall is more packed than I have seen so far for the JZ Concert Series, which puts on a concert every month of two. Carmona steps onstage quietly, wielding his guitar, and strums the first notes of “Rondena,” a guitar solo that is rough and delicate all at once. The pensive tune breaks into a melancholy memory like a wave meeting the shore, and suddenly, with a smile, the short prelude is over. The lights dim and a voice swells to fill the room. The ensuing gitano solo, “Martinete,” conjures the flickering flames in a misty Andalusian forest as Carmona sings a capella, accompanied only by the muffled sound of his cupped palms and tapping boot. The rhythm intensifies as Carmona leaves the mic to sit astride a cajon. Drummer Chris Trzcinzki joins him on another cajon. The stage is bathed in deep green. The rest of the band emerges, clapping to the beat of the two cajons. I feel like I’ve accidentally walked in on someone else's bonfire.

The next piece begins with Carmona on keyboard, accompanied by Peng Fei's haunting violin and JQ Whitcomb's sliding trumpet. The song sways into a romantic melody, but then crescendoes into a surprising union of flamenco, jazz, and fantasy. A moment later the page turns to a more familiar Spanish flare, then quickly rises into something cinematic and large. The ensemble stampedes towards a sudden end. Whoa. Unexpected and out of the ordinary.

The band launches into a lively, brooding piece. It's odd, sitting in the middle of Pudong listening to this kind of music. Carmona, still on piano, has the look of a maestro in his tailed tuxedo coat and polka-dot cravat. Peng delivers a beautiful, eerie, tear-your-heart-out solo. Carmona’s music has many changes, transitioning easily within one piece from a mournful ballad to a crowd-pleasing ditty. This piece sounds like it belongs in an old school Spanish cafe, where the simplicity of voice and guitar enraptures the audience and stills the silverware and glasses.

With all the stragglers in place, the house is pretty packed. It’s a mix of folks this afternoon; expatriates and local Chinese fill the rows with only the periodic empty seat. The band joins Carmona and each character is more defined in this piece. Jeremy 'Jay' Lasry punctuates with his electric bass, while Whitcomb and Peng's trumpet/violin combination is spine-tingling. Trzcinski provides a delicate backdrop and Lawrence Ku’s guitar is finally audible. Ku's electric melds well with Carmona's acoustic, so well that sometimes you can't hear him, but in this piece Ku breaks out into a eloquent solo. Trzcinski goes nuts on his drum solo, busting out more than I've seen him in prior line-ups.

A quick tuning later, Carmona goes into another solo. His solos give the impression of a very natural way of playing. The mood rises and falls within measures, expressing his personality, A.D.D. and all. His voice and guitar feel effortless, with room to breathe between the notes and ideas, not necessarily a lot of room, but room nevertheless. In a recent interview, Carmona mentioned that he's not as lively in person as he is in performance, but here, in this concert hall, I am not sensing liveliness per se, but life in a series of snapshots. Sadness, joy, fear, love, excitement, desolation, ecstasy...the whole lot. The general mood of Carmona’s music is moodiness. Not some apasionado flurry of Spanish zeal.

The trumpet announces a familiar melody, signalling the end to some empire, or maybe just last call at neighborhood cafe. The full band jumps in for a spirited close and it’s time for intermission.

The mood shifts significantly for the second set, much more akin to the casual, carefree sound of Carmona’s debut album Silencio. The songs are cheerful and gay, similar to the Spanish music that I've heard before. Carmona performs standing, clad in kick-ass maroon and gold brocade pants and a black fedora, projecting that liveliness that he referred to before. Out of this set, a simple guitar/voice solo strikes me the most, “A Tu Lado.” It’s a ballad of the heart-melting kind, evoking warm nights, summer constellations, and everyone plus their moms falling in love for the first time or all over again.

By the encores, the audience is clapping and heart rates are up. Me, personally? I'm dancing the upper body Spanish roboto. Flam3ntriko was a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I’d expected excellent guitar work and a strong ensemble of musicians, but what I didn’t expect was the texture of Carmona’s voice and the complexity of the first set. I’m looking forward to his next album, which will surely be a departure from the lively Silencio, presenting concepts more moody and complex.

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