Taraf de Haïdouks @ Union Chapel, December 7 2008

Why?
Last summer, I was lucky enough to cover the annual Romani pilgrimage to St Maries de la Mer in the south of France. The chaos was superb...the music even better. Since then, I’ve been tentatively intrigued, listening out for anything else that sounds a bit gypsyish/Romani/Bakan/whateveritis, and a few Saturdays ago I found a great stall at the indoor market on Brick Lane dedicated to the stuff. The Bosnian owner was blasting out something that I recognised- Fanfare Ciocărlia; a superb brass troupe from northeastern Romania, subjects of the award-winning film Brass on Fire. You may have also seen them on the cover of Garth Cartwright’s book Princes Amongst Men, and heard their version of Born to be Wild on the ending credits of the Borat film.

Anyway, since then, I’ve been listening to them a lot on Last FM, and the website’s bafflingly clever algorithms seem to have noticed this. Via the excellent recommended gigs function (they recommend according to what you have been listening to and where you live), Last FM suggested that I visit the Union Chapel last night, where another Romanian gypsy band, Taraf de Haïdouks, were playing. I did as I was told.

The Venue
In truth, I was as enticed by the venue as I was by the band. Just off Upper Street in Islington, the Union Chapel is a Grade II listed church, where, if you fancy, you can supplicate twice weekly. But when it isn’t being a place of worship it is an intimate music venue, with a super bar in the back. The main body of the church is laid out in pews aimed towards the stage, where Taraf de Haïdouks were framed by an ornately-carved stone pulpit and wrought iron grills, with stained glass hovering overhead. Candles twinkled in the cloisters, and red and amber lights soared up onto the wooden roof and gothic arches. The effect is superb. Magical, even. The acoustics are likewise (but avoid the wings, where the sound isn’t as good). Last night, it was chocker with Da Izlington Massive (well-dressed, middle class world music fans, to be found topping up on red wine during the interval).

What they look like
Taraf de Haïdouks are a troupe of eleven musicians, of which only three appeared under the age of forty. At the upper end, the singer and one of the violinists are well past 70. The younger members are in jeans and t-shirts, the older musicians in their Sunday best. Due to the density of the music- requiring, at times, intense concentration- there isn’t much scope for dancing around. But as they get into their stride, there is as much movement as the music could allow. Props to the older violinist, who at one stage mounts the pulpit and began playing the violin behind his back.

What they sound like
Each member is nothing short of a virtuoso. The music is in perpetual hyperspeed, with fingers battering out flurries of notes on the violin, the cimbalon player hammering in a virtual blur, and the double bass player slapping out sprinting bass lines. Without the foot-stomping rasp of any brass instruments, the effect is more orchestral; at times like a frenzied take on Brahms or Stravinsky (apparently their recent stuff is deliberately more classical). Various members take turns at singing; warbling wails with heavy vibrato.

There are no 1,2,3,4 intros, meaning at times it feels like a long jam around a number of themes. The roughness of the ensemble, paired with the virtuosity of the individuals, make it sound something like a Romani take on the Buena Vista Social club. I love the fact that, with this music, you can almost hear the wanderings of the gypsies, with bits and bobs they’ve inherited along the way: the eastern European sound of the clarinet colliding with Iberian guitar strumming; thick French accordion with the quavering vocals of north Africa and the Middle East. The effect is a beautiful, organic hybrid.

Conclusion
Ideally, I’d like to listen to this music out of my mind on plum brandy, at a raucous wedding in a tiny village in the Carpathian mountains. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen any time soon. Still, though, there is something about seeing this music in this environment that made me cringe a little. I think it’s because this kind of experience makes you realise how painfully middle class you are- listening to a gypsy band in a lovely church in Islington surrounded by (fellow) card-carrying chin-strokers. It’s an uneasiness personified by the sight of forty-something pashmina-clad yummy mummies trying dance while constrained by a church pew. Granted, Taraf de Haïdouks were not particularly rowdy, and yes, to suggest that the middle classes should be exempt from such music is ridiculous and self-defeating in a variety of ways, but, you know, that’s how it felt, a bit. I’ll stop there, because there’s a very high chance that I’m talking utter bollocks. Class consciousness aside, the music was beautiful. Thanks.

Pics: flykr, scraplab, perreira

tags: Taraf de Haïdouks Fanfare Ciocarlia union chapel islington brass on fire princes amongst men Garth Cartwright romani music gypsy music balkan folk music born to be wild last fm romania romanian music