An Incredible Review in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 19.04.2013,


You may laugh – you understand? Laugh!
BY Ulf Erdmann Ziegler
For PDF of Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung click here
19.04.2013
Who has stolen his saxophon? Gilad Atzmon finds his way with his sense of humour and Jazz collages
Just now Gilad Atzmon has returned with his alto saxophon from Buenos Aires. In the meantime his flat in London was burgled. His clarinet, the soprano saxophon and his accordion were all stolen. The same day he bought all these instruments anew because he was supposed to be in Frankfurt the following day together with his quartet – The Orient House Ensemble. That was the reason his instruments were shining so much.
With such a bitter litte anecdote the continental European tournee of the Israel born musician started, with stations in Freiburg, Heidelberg and Berlin. It had not totally spoiled his parade when troubling his audience with riddles and questions in the totally black coated hall of a former Frankfurt bread factory. “Why on earth don`t you laugh?” he askes his musicians. “Because they are Germans! You may laugh, you know. Laugh, ha, ha, ha”!
Tis is Gilad Atzmon, almost 50 years old, a corpulent and spiritually minded man sometimes glancing up to the ceiling in a painstrikken way. During his performance it is strange how his notoriously shrill sense of humour on stage, quite similar to that of Sacha Baron Cohen, is always brushed aside with the first sound of music. His program “Songs of the Metropolis” is not part of the genre of humorous music. They are songs about the great cities of the wolrd, great compositions supported by a glasslike sparkling piano (Frank Harrison), an acoustic bass reverberating deep into the indestines (Yaron Stavi) and a drum set played with extreme discipline with almost all registers between fire brigade band and funkrock. Atzmon needs this great sound in order to deliver a brilliant performance as multi-instrumentalist. It is very moving how he works on his accordeon for a casual and silent fanfare, only a few beats (tacts) plaited in the elegy of his saxophone – as if seeing a shy dog straying past.