Aroj Aftab, Triennale, Milan – Live Report :: Ondarock

The sad poet confined to a flowery garden, to sigh languid for her lost love, under the rays of an indifferent moon: just set up a similar scene and you are already halfway through the work. After that they scatter each other here and there “Urdu”, “Sufi” and other words more or less random and the article is ready, not before having gorgged the four events how much everything will be “femininity”. Comfortable life, huh? Too bad that when you deal with certain figures, the stereotypes return to the sender in priority mode. Did you really believe that a concert by Arooj Aftab could run out in the Manierated Ghigoror, for the use and consumption of the Sunday ethnomusicologist, with the protagonist reduced to a tigotto tigotta?

A projection that disintegrates in no time, just time to let the selecta Between Afro-Cuban and Acid Jazz (not so out of place, in hindsight) and to have the three accompanying persons (classic guitar, double bass, battery). The entrance of the Chanteuse This is the most discharged one can imagine: it seems to us by chance on stage, without emphasis or bearing, with the ease of those who leave the house.
Also the mood Instrumental is far from “mystical”, however undoubtedly hypnotic: the minimalist flamenco of “Suiroor” evokes the psychedelic ghost of Arthur Lee. Between pinched ropes, beatings and vowel resonance coffers scat In unison with the stairs, to silence the crochet solo, a certain leziness from Jazz Festival looms on the band: Not My Cup of Teabut it is not written anywhere that my taste should be to dictate the law tonight. And then, we are still in an “elegant” theater in theory …

Yeah, in theory. Because the direct and informal attitude of Arooj rather recalls that of one Stand up comedian Dei Bassifondi: Local and Peperina, he will play all evening to demolish his reputation as a sophisticated interpreter, between lumidrs to the fulmicotone and find paradoxical. One, in particular: after apologizing for having performed a too “depressing” song (the irresistible “Baghon Main”, with that plugged step a little at John Martyn), informs a pair of dark glasses to cover the helped eyes, promises “screams and fun” and makes a special butler materialize to distribute cicchetti in the audience (she does not join the toast because she does not join the toast because informs, he exaggerated the night before in Rome). And this is how “Whiskey”, ninety piece of the Adamantine “Night Reign”, assumes a whole other consistency, especially in that repeated “Your Head Gets Heavy and Rests on My Shoulder” which sounds like a tender dedication to spectators, at least those of the first rows.

When he wants, however, he knows how to set aside his tough face to recompose himself in an almost lyricism naive: for example, the ode at night as “different scenario of life and love” with which it introduces the “Last Night” syncopate. But it does not last long, because the majestic “Na Gul” is shocked as “A song about Going Home to Your Partner After An Eye Contact With A Stranger AT A Party”. He also tries to sabotage the next song, but this time he does not succeed, because “Rat Ki Rani” is not only “The Leading Single from Her Last Album”, but also one of the most enchanting songs in recent years, performed with the liquid and transformed transport of the David Sylvian of “I Surrender”.
He can't really do it good: if the presentations of the musicians flow without particular gags, during “Saans” it asks us for an opinion on his turn, before “Aey Nehin” takes a moment to chew it is not very clear and at the end of “Bolo Na” he puts himself in profile to make us admire his “Roman nose”.

Not even the encores are spared: “Aey Na Balam” would be the birth of the “Heavy Metal Anarchist Vibe” of his beginnings, while “Mohabbat” is cheered by another round of glasses. Strengthened by his firepower Sold outthe room claims other music (or maybe another whiskey?), But Arooj reappears just for one last bow, at least the one without tricks.
Upon leaving the theater, the vocy is that of a satisfied and amused audience, far from the angularness blasé which hovers on events of this type. While I head towards the tram, he pour at least two different lips to whistle the theme of “Rat Ki Rani”: it is already a classic, evidently. To your health Arooj, queen of the night.