Lanre Bakare 

Chilly Gonzales review – spellbinding mix of musicianship and toilet humour

The Canadian virtuoso is on top form as he dishes out masterclass mini-lessons and breezes through his best pieces, writes Lanre Bakare
  
  

Hilarious … Chilly Gonzales at the Roundhouse in London.
Hilarious … Chilly Gonzales at the Roundhouse in London. Photograph: Burak Cingi/Redferns via Getty Images Photograph: Burak Cingi/Redferns via Getty Images

Chilly Gonzales first caught the music world's attention with lapel-grabbing boasts regarding his own musical genius. This braggadocio-laden shtick was channelled into piano-based rap albums as the Canadian collaborated with everyone from fellow peacocking one-off Andrew WK to Daft Punk and Jamie Lidell. It was, of course, an act, a persona, and when Gonzales stripped away the tongue-in-cheek hype for his two Solo Piano albums – think Keith Jarrett at his most reflective or Erik Satie's beautifully crafted instrumentals – he found not only new fans but widespread acclaim. For tonight's show at the Roundhouse – billed not as a gig but a "masterclass" – the audience are treated to both sides of his personality.

Performing with "pianovision" – a top-down camera shot that allows fans to see his every key stroke – Gonzales breezes through the brilliant Kenaston before seguing into the similarly melancholy White Keys. There's room for audience requests – Gogol and Overnight – plus uncouth and explicit rap interludes (sample lyric: "My brain's fucked cause my dick is thinking").

The masterclass element is the most unique aspect here: Gonzales dishes out mini lessons, such as his thoughts on the use of tremolo and the semitone, where he joins the musical dots between Thelonious Monk, Beethoven and Ol' Dirty Bastard. He also brings students up on stage, including the precocious Joe (who looks about 12) and a slightly bemused Belgian pianist, Maude, with whom he shares an audience-pleasing gag about why the French have no natural rhythm.

There's also an appearance from fellow pianist James Rhodes, who shares his thoughts on how Chopin should be interpreted (passionately, yes; over-romanticised, never) and gives us a run through Gluck's Mort d'Orphée before talking about its author's syphilis issues. This strange juxtaposition of high-end musicianship and toilet humour perfectly sums up an evening that is at turns hilarious and spellbinding. Finishing off with Knight Moves, his collaboration with electroclash survivor Boys Noize, and "the iPad song", AKA Never Stop, there is no need for bragging. Tonight, the music speaks for itself.

 

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