The orchestra led with masterful breath by veteran saxophonist Dani Nel·lo presented its new album, El gran cyclone, at Apolo. In it they recreate songs from his discography, arranged by double bassist Ivan Kovacevic, to allow the performance of an Arkestra – dressed in fez hats and masks – with a populated brass section, made up of five saxes, three trumpets and three trombones. To give even more polish to the sound, they incorporate a guitarist who accompanies the headliner, Dani Baraldés. Completing the original quartet is drummer Anton Jarl.
With these wickers, their repertoire acquires a new dimension, in which the jambophonic sound, a mixture of rhythm and blues, jazz, rock and roll, surf and other vintage condiments, rises in a hypervitamined and vigorous way. It is a swing and roll that is fast-paced from the initial Salt Lake.
They also approach Latinbilly in a ¡Viva sapo! in which the aroma of Tequila emerges, an emblematic song of instrumental rock and roll of great influence for the group. Although they play their own material, such as Promenade, rescued from the Arkestra's first album, with a lounge tone a la Mambo sinuendo by Manuel Galbán and Ry Cooder; a Fire Cross with the prominence of a twang guitar, and a Dizzy, with muscular double bass and electrifying guitar, surrounded by an authentic orchestral feast. Not to mention Party at the Motel, presided over by a libidinous sax and an incisive rockabilly guitar surrounded by a phenomenal orchestral wall.
Surfing cannot be missing from his style book either, in a Dr. Serpiente just marinated in the tasty Latin way. The resounding title track, The Great Cyclone, in the manner of a stomp with a devilish beat, has nothing to envy of what The Brian Setzer Orchestra offers, with a crackling brass game far from the lounge atmosphere of Fighting Cock. There was an emotional memory of Itziar Castro, from when he acted as Madame Taboo in the Apolo burlesque cabaret entertained by the Mambo Jambo, with the very appropriate Poderosa.
A plethoric Nel·lo glossed the “secondary roads” that his group practices before tackling Flamin' hips, flaming hips that set the room in dance between exultant brass and maracas. Then, in The Scream, a torrid and nocturnal sax served to emphasize the cinematographic aspect and in the very fast-paced Rat Race, dedicated to the “latest political moves,” the tunes from Batman and 2001: A Space Odyssey sneaked in. .
A tribute to his references could not be missing, and it was not to Louis Jordan or King Curtis, but to the great Lee Allen, in the form of a Dance Aces that did him justice. There was the baritone sax moment, blowing like a man possessed in The Hunt, with nods to Bo Diddley, and in a Roadrace imbued with the spirit of Stray Cats. As a culmination, an encore in the form of an accomplished version of Man and the Earth, in a triumphant night to remember.
