With close-cropped speckled grey hair, a Josef Stalin moustache and an immaculate tuxedo, Paolo Conte shuffled alone on to the RFH stage. He stood modestly at the edge of the spotlight's beam, then sat at the grand piano centre stage. He began singing in a rasping voice that had a hypnotic, nicotine-laden resonance and conjured a set that by the end of the evening had the audience in the aisles in a rapturous standing ovation.
Conte's music owes a great deal to traditional jazz. Born in Asti, northern Italy, in 1937, he began his musical life as a vibraphone player for various bands before writing songs for other artists in the 60s. In the 70s he started recording his own music, developing the style of a droll, smoky jazz singer and mixing his wit and poetic, intimate lyrics with an intense delivery.
Sunday night's performance was an exuberant execution of some of his best songs, supported by a highly competent band. And the band certainly helped him hold his swing during the set. Following his opening solo spot it swelled and contracted from a trio to a full 12-piece jazz ensemble - at one point featuring euphonium, accordion and a fantastic oboe solo. Like their leader they wore stylish tuxedos, and the range of musicianship was equally im pressive - the drummer came out from behind his kit to play the piano, the two guitarists duelled with Django Reinhardt-style licks and a five-strong horn and saxophone section adorned the stage like a bracelet of bold brass. Conte, at the centre of it all, looking like a benign Vincent Price, masterfully orchestrated the atmosphere from the piano, head cocked to one side, crooning into his microphone. And with sparing hand gestures and movements he gave his performance a theatrical, almost vaudevillian edge.
Much of power of Conte's music lies in his arrangements, but it is his voice which smoulders within the songs and ignites them as he charts half-recalled memories, seductions and the surreal worlds of his poetic fragments and images. With the melancholy of Leonard Cohen and the urgency of Tom Waits he half spoke, half sang his way through wonderful stories and renditions of love gone wrong (Luna Di Marmellhta) friendship (Max) and, in the brilliant and crowd-pleasing Via Con Me, romantic escape. The audience was held rapt by the performance and Conte was humbly moved by its enthusiasm, tapping his heart to show his feelings for its appreciation.
After some scat singing in a duet with guest Ginger Brew, who played Ella to his Louis, and a tight encore, he saluted his audience from the edge of the stage. The rare soul in Conte's voice and his sympathy with both band and audience made for a rare musical treat.
