"If you know your history / Then you would know where you coming from," sings Gilberto Gil in his concert tribute to Bob Marley and the Wailers. Gil is backed by a terrific Brazilian band, yet the rhythms are authentic, played with great attention to the detail of the slow, asymmetric patterns that characterise 1970s reggae. His voice is lighter, less passionate than that of the late reggae star, but he is a great performer, with the guts and gall to present himself as a Marley substitute, clutching an electric guitar in his left hand while his clenched right fist punches the air.
Yet I have to admit that I didn't get it at first. Why buy an album of Bob Marley songs when you already have - and love - most of the originals? Gil's Kaya N'Gan Daya album is hugely respectful of the Marley legacy; it was recorded at the Tuff Gong Studio in Kingston, Jamaica, with the I-Threes singing on several tracks. The original work is so iconic, so powerful, that it resists stylistic manipulation. So you have to dig deep to realise how cleverly Gil has blended his musical language into that of the Wailers.
Three Little Birds, with its interweaving flute, melodica and accordion, is a good example. The lights are low, and the three women backing vocalists (who include Gil's daughter Nara), sit on the floor, hippie fashion, singing and swaying. Kaya begins with Gil and the two percussionists (on berimbau and tambourine) stalking the stage in triangular formation - a theatrical touch typical of the show. Gil, who has translated Lively Up Yourself into Portuguese, talks a little about the difficulties of translating the music without losing "generation". "It's like replanting a tree," he says. "You have to be careful."
Technology helps the band communicate with each other. With in-ear monitoring and radio attachments, the players move as freely as street musicians in front of a painted Brazilian/Jamaican landscape. Gil commands the stage, dancing, strutting, singing and playing. And what great songs he plays: Rebel Music; Could You Be Loved; No Woman, No Cry (with Portuguese verses). He interrupts the Marley repertoire to deliver a skanking reggae treatment of A Garota de Ipanema (The Girl from Ipanema).
The Jamaican influence in Gil's own songwriting has been a subtle presence for some time, in numbers such as Esperando Na Janela (from the movie Eu Tu Eles). The Marley project brings those tastes to the forefront. The sold-out audience - many in gold-and-green Brazilian strip - inhale every note.
