Fanfare Ciocârlia vs Boban Marcovic - Balkan Brass Battle, The Dome, Brighton | reviews, news & interviews
Fanfare Ciocârlia vs Boban Marcovic - Balkan Brass Battle, The Dome, Brighton
Fanfare Ciocârlia vs Boban Marcovic - Balkan Brass Battle, The Dome, Brighton
No ballads, no pauses, just sheer demented energy
Subtlety is overrated. I've always thought so. Critical consensus too often rates nuanced, emasculated emoting over music that smashes you over the head with an iron bar. From hardcore punk to gabber to speed metal to the sort of dubstep that sounds like four-storey bass bins begging for mercy, music that's ballistic doesn't leave room for quibbling. You're either on the bus or you can piss off and listen to Bon Iver in your bedroom.
Yes, yes, tonight's Balkan Brass Battle gig awoke the raw punk in me. It was completely relentless: no ballads, no pauses, just sheer demented high BPM energy for two solid hours. These musicians, some of the greatest brass players in Europe, are capable of mustering all manner of musical emotions, but tonight wasn't about that, it was a competition to play the craziest, fastest, loudest, maddest gypsy dance music possible. And it was brilliant.
The night began with DJ Sacha Dieu warming the capacity crowd up with a set heavy on the likes of Balkan Beat Box and Shantel but truly started when the lights dimmed and the stage filled with tens of musicians, a vast ensemble clutching an array of brass, woodwind and drums. On the left-hand side stood the Romanian outfit Fanfare Ciocârlia, best known, perhaps, for playing out the Borat movie with their version of "Born to be Wild". Dressed in red shirts, black ties, greatcoats and trilbys, they have prodigious tummies and look rather like men one might see playing backgammon at a Greek pavement café. The Boban Marcovic Orkestar, on the other hand, are younger and dressed in black with white ties. There is something of Las Vegas about them, except for their star trumpet player, Boban's son Marko - clad in a red candy-striped shirt and red tie, with tight stone-washed jeans and perm-alike black hair, he looks very Euro-Eighties. Boban's band, from Serbia, have provided music for Emir Kusturica's movies and are the most highly rated brass outfit in the region, so much so that when Oasis played the Sziget Festival in Budapest a few years ago, they had to wait until the band finished on another stage before they could muster any crowd to play to.
After an introductory blast together, a theatrical argument introduces the concept of the night's entertainment. The band leaders challenge each other to a sonic duel - who is the best gypsy brass band? - and toss a coin to see who starts. Fanfare Ciocârlia kick off. And so it begins, oompah rhythms so frantic they act as a propulsive kick-drum and top-lines that zig along like Flight of the Bumblebee jacked on ephedrine. Fanfare Ciocârlia are rawer and less jazzy than Boban's bunch, a mariachi-esque assault that particularly showcases the skills of clarinetist/saxophonist Oprica Ivancea and trumpet-playing vocalist Radulescu Lazar.
The bands swap places, taking it in turns, song by song, but the pace never lessens. Boban Marcovic's band are more showbiz, led by the flamboyant Marko with Boban singing vocals and playing trumpet at extraordinarily high pitches. At one point Marko insists we all sit down, as the band James used to do at festivals, and then we all leap up again, blood rushing dizzyingly from our heads as frantic rhythms drive ever forward. It's exhausting stuff and midway through the set there's a lull from the crowd who have thus far been whooping, shrieking and waving their arms in the air. Maintaining this level of energy requires stamina, hopping from leg to leg to the ska-like beat. I'm not familiar with the Balkan Brass Battle album so cannot furnish titles for most of the songs - for which, my apologies - but this music is immediate carnival fare, as much about call-and-response shouts and clapped-back perussive tattoos as melodic recognition. At one point Marko has us all singing James Brown's "(I Got You) I Feel Good" while he plays the vocal line on his trumpet, at another the jazz standard "Caravan" is given a sassy gypsy polish-up.
Throughout the show, whichever band isn't playing watches the other with theatrically rendered disdain, occasionally letting their real emotions show and clapping along enthusiastically. Then, just as everyone is starting to feel truly knackered, the two groups play their ace. The band leaders announce they now appreciate each other's music and will work together. They all hug and shake hands to much applause. They've been whipping us up for an hour and a half, but suddenly it feels like they pull the stops out and move it up another level. There is frenzy in the air as they attack the "James Bond Theme" with a vivaciousness that borders on the demented. It is a suitable climax to an extraordinary night, a highlight of this year's Brighton Festival. There is so much bellowing for more that they come back for a final encore, but by this time the crowd really is done in. Still, the howls of approval say it all. Subtlety be damned. What a night.
- The Brighton Festival continues until 29 May
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