The large pockets of empty seats, the blue-haired couples that snuck out early, the noticeable dearth of young people — all served as reminders that Tampa Bay, more often than not, still turns a deaf ear to hip, boutique concerts.
Fortunately, David Manson doesn't let box office potential dictate his aesthetic choices. As director of the EMIT Series, which presents precisely these types of shows, he went ahead and booked Boleros Perdidos (Love Songs Lost).
A Miami group led by composer/violinist Alfredo Triff, Boleros Perdidos takes a unique, jazzy, low-key approach to Latin music. This was no salsa rave-up, with folks dancing in the aisles and holding up flags from different South American countries. This was 124 people sitting quietly in the Palladium, being lured into Triff and company's sad suite about unrequited love — sung in Spanish — and luxuriating in the quintet's subtle blend of sonic flavors.
Triff, 50 — who left Cuba in 1980, moved to New York and settled in Miami 14 years ago — is the leader and mastermind of Boleros Perdidos, but the concert's focal point was the quietly charismatic singer Roberto Poveda. He wore flowing white linen and slipped off his sandals before the set. Poveda's voice was warm in the middle, ragged at the edges, with an aged quality that belied his years (he's 43, looks 30, sounds 65). Because most of the music was slow to medium tempo, he emphasized a conversational approach, accenting lyrics with hand and facial gestures. Even a non-Spanish speaker such as myself could intuitively follow the narrative and feel the longing that coursed through the songs.
Performing in front of a big screen showing Miami street scenes, Triff and Povedo were joined by a pianist, acoustic bassist and two hand percussionists who eschewed pyrotechnics in favor of undulating grooves and graceful shading. The concert gained full footing during the song "Danzon," named after the early-20th-century musical genre popularized in Cuba. The tune brought the strut out in the band, which to that point had focused mostly on melancholy boleros. Some of those boleros mutated into faster tempos, even changing from minor to major key, a conceit that underscored Triff's license to interpret and modernize the music of his homeland.
Alfredo Triff and Boleros Perdidos did not sweep in and throw Tampa Bay into a swoon. That would've been way too miraculous. But they did leave a coterie of open-eared locals enchanted, much the better for having invested their Friday night in the band's company.
I've seen Dickey Betts perform three times since he got booted from the Allman Brothers Band in 2000, and he's been on his game each time, including last Friday at Jannus Landing.
Betts' current backing unit is practically an ABB ringer: two drummers, a percussionist (mostly on congas), organist/singer, bassist and three Les Paul-wielding guitarists, including Betts and his son, Duane Betts, who shone on Friday with a series of impassioned, lyrical solos that complemented his old man's ax work nicely.
The ensemble took the stage at 8:30 p.m. and launched into a taut rendition of the Betts instrumental "Les Brers in A Minor," from the ABB classic Eat a Peach.
A monster rendition of his epic instrumental "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" featured a funkified last section that sounded like it had been swiped from the French Quarter. Another At Fillmore East fave soon followed, as Betts channeled his old pal and mentor Duane Allman on "Statesboro Blues."
As for more obscure numbers, it was nice to hear Betts dust off "Long Time Gone," the lead track from his masterful 1974 solo debut album, Highway Call. For an encore, we got the Betts-penned ABB smash "Ramblin' Man," which found the singer in strong voice and his band blazing away on an extended version.
—Wade Tatangelo
This article appears in Oct 17-23, 2007.