Sponsored by the French Embassy of Canada, Champagne native Léon Phal played the smaller Fourth Stage inside the National Arts Centre on Wednesday night, a classier and more fitting environment for the continental five-piece, free of ugly plastic chairs and flapping tarpaulins — better-stocked bar it seemed also. Yes, it was an evening of hip, cosmopolitan jazz house in the vein of St. Germaine (whose seminal Tourist set the template back in 2000): shimmering sax and trumpet lines drenched in delay; shuffling snares and swinging rides; and in this case tons of Rhodesy synth pyrotechnics from Gauthier Toux on keys. It's an enduring style for a reason, and Phal and his équipe seem like leaders of the current generation.
Visibly pleased to be understood in French, Phal charmed the audience easily, with many a validating and affirmative sigh elicited from us during these frankly cute bilingual intervals. There were more than a few groans of aesthetic ecstasy during the show as well, with at least one audible 'oh my god' — somewhere there's a musicology thesis to be written about the homo-erotic nature of spontaneous but suspiciously performative male ejaculations in the context of live jazz — jazzplaining, anyone?)
In any event, whether one's appreciation actually made it past their lips or not, it was clearly in the air — this felt like a special set, one you took a chance on and won. Alternating between big, memorable horn lines and improvisational digressions where everyone got to demonstrate their chops, the band created vividly evocative scenes throughout as well — smoky, sultry noir during one intro; mysterious, sprite-filled forests later on. Special props to Toux on synths and Rhodes, who was clearly building some of his multi-layered passages from scratch with loop functions before embarking on his actual solos, and who was at the center of most of the more memorable scenes. He was giving Legend of Zelda water-temple energy at one point with a harp setting, and the crowd was loving it.
Phal himself led the group on saxophone, offering up some real red-faced solos, but also slowing down from time to time for some accommodating interplay, trading silky eights with trumpeter Zacharie Ksyk during one particularly delicate, synth-washed moment toward the end.
It all sounded distinctly French, with some of the more mysterious and nocturnal passages reminiscent of Air (Rhodes lovers also), and when they shifted into a proper four-four beat a couple times (which the crowd loved and they could honestly stand to do more of), the St. Germaine/Café del Mar energy was unmistakable. Everything had a confident, classy stride, the Gallic élan. The band clearly enjoyed themselves as well, so a successful night both musically and politically — although the bar's champagne selection surely failed to impress. A classy night out with a group you'd usually have to leave the country for; respect if you were there.
Visibly pleased to be understood in French, Phal charmed the audience easily, with many a validating and affirmative sigh elicited from us during these frankly cute bilingual intervals. There were more than a few groans of aesthetic ecstasy during the show as well, with at least one audible 'oh my god' — somewhere there's a musicology thesis to be written about the homo-erotic nature of spontaneous but suspiciously performative male ejaculations in the context of live jazz — jazzplaining, anyone?)
In any event, whether one's appreciation actually made it past their lips or not, it was clearly in the air — this felt like a special set, one you took a chance on and won. Alternating between big, memorable horn lines and improvisational digressions where everyone got to demonstrate their chops, the band created vividly evocative scenes throughout as well — smoky, sultry noir during one intro; mysterious, sprite-filled forests later on. Special props to Toux on synths and Rhodes, who was clearly building some of his multi-layered passages from scratch with loop functions before embarking on his actual solos, and who was at the center of most of the more memorable scenes. He was giving Legend of Zelda water-temple energy at one point with a harp setting, and the crowd was loving it.
Phal himself led the group on saxophone, offering up some real red-faced solos, but also slowing down from time to time for some accommodating interplay, trading silky eights with trumpeter Zacharie Ksyk during one particularly delicate, synth-washed moment toward the end.
It all sounded distinctly French, with some of the more mysterious and nocturnal passages reminiscent of Air (Rhodes lovers also), and when they shifted into a proper four-four beat a couple times (which the crowd loved and they could honestly stand to do more of), the St. Germaine/Café del Mar energy was unmistakable. Everything had a confident, classy stride, the Gallic élan. The band clearly enjoyed themselves as well, so a successful night both musically and politically — although the bar's champagne selection surely failed to impress. A classy night out with a group you'd usually have to leave the country for; respect if you were there.
