Review: Buena Bristol Social Club, Lantern

When an unrecorded band that’s only done a few gigs packs a capacity standing audience into the Lantern you have to figure there’s something special going on. But, then, last January the Buena Bristol Social Club’s hometown debut at the Jam Jar sold out so fast that a second show was immediately arranged (and that sold out, too). That early success stemmed from two great assets, the first being the immense impact and appeal of the original Buena Vista Social Club project and film some 25 years ago which kickstarted a global appreciation of Cuban music and dance. The second crucial ingredient was the partnership of ex-pat Cuban trumpeter Michel Padron with Bristol-based jazz pianist Jim Blomfield, a pairing first seen at socially distanced pandemic gigs in their Latin-jazz quintet. Michel’s powerful trumpet style was learned in Havana from, among others, the Buena Vista legend Guajiro Mirabal while Jim’s extraordinary talent as a jazz pianist had found an inspirational outlet in Latin music as part of local salsa band K’Chevere.

Buena Bristol Social Club – Juan Carlos Arenas, Luisa Santiago, Michel Padron (pic: Tony Benjamin)

But that duo is not the whole story, by far, as was evident from this Lantern set. The stately son number Chan Chan opened with the ringing sound of Colombian musician Juan Carlos Arenas’ tres guitar and the interlocked percussion of Jackson Lapes congas and Jon Clark’s timbales. Pumped along by Sol Ahmed’s disciplined double bass it immediately conjured an atmospheric sound for the combined vocals of Michel and Colombian singer Luisa Santiago, with Michel providing a lyrical trumpet solo. It was a beautiful and restrained number for the band to warm up with but after that start things quickly got picante and stayed that way till the end.

Buena Bristol Social Club – Juan Carlos Arenas, Luisa Santiago, Michel Padron, Sol Ahmed (pic: Tony Benjamin)

The sound (immaculately mixed throughout) filled out with the brass augmented by trumpeter Jonny Bruce and Craig Crofton’s tenor sax. That characterful combination allowed for the interplay of multiple voices in the judicious blend of tight arrangements and soaring solo improvisations. This ranged from the slick production of the Omara Portuondo song Donde Estabas Tu? to the big beat and brass blowout of Candela, which also featured a fine duet of piano and tres. Luisa’s vocal range proved more than adequate to match La Portuondo’s. Indeed, she demonstrated an assured command in every song as well as adding her compelling stage presence. The brass trio were clearly enjoying themselves tossing flamboyant ideas around with Craig’s sax admirably summoning the trumpeters’ soaring squirt sound. There was, however, a more elegant trumpet duet for Michel’s self-penned tribute to the aforementioned Guajiro Mirabal who passed away in October, aged 91.

Buena Bristol Social Club – Jim Blomfield (pic: Tony Benjamin)

If Jim Blomfield, tucked away to the side with his back to the audience, was enjoying himself at the piano it was less visible but such exuberance and creativity in his solo playing must surely have come from a happy soul. His stylings deployed both a refined understanding of the language of Latin piano and the eclectic imagination of his jazz background. Thus his solo introduction to Dos Gardenias began almost in classical mode till he wove elements of Flamenco into a vibrant fusion that launched a perfect montuno for the band. A previous extended solo had done the reverse, lifting off from the tight riff into a filigree elaboration, followed by hammering percussive chords that settled into a reinterpretation of the tune that seamlessly took us back to the groove. Small wonder that Michel hailed it as a ‘Cuban piano masterclass’.

Buena Bristol Social Club – Juan Carlos Arenas, Luisa Santiago, Michel Padron, Sol Ahmed (pic: Tony Benjamin)

This was a supergroup in action, whether in smaller combinations like the brassless, tres-led De Camino a la Vereda, the down-the-line classic sound of Quizas, Quizas, Quizas or the full-throttle Chancuillo, a vibrant Nu Yorican-style number that finally gave space for the diligent Sol to take a bass solo and for the two percussionists to let rip in their turn. Yes, it’s a tribute act – but one that perfectly preserved the virtuoso spirit of the original Buena Vista Social Club in its own terms. And, above all, it was superbly entertaining as a result.