is often so swollen with
beauty it is like time-lapse photography of tulips blooming. The final
instalment of Daniel Weltlinger's trilogy paying homage to Django
Reinhardt, it consists of Weltlinger's own compositions – from lilting
waltzes to surging swing – played with a band including his long-term
collaborator Lulo Reinhardt on guitar. Several
tracks have no fewer than five acoustic rhythm guitars (played by Lulo
and his nephews, underpinned by Harald Becher's bass) creating the sort
of thrust usually associated with jet engines, and if that wasn't going
to get Weltlinger's violin airborne, nothing would. Not that becoming
airborne is a challenge for the violinist, whose plush tone has a
built-in soaring quality, whether he plays with scything velocity or
leaves notes hanging in the air with such poignancy that time itself
seems to stand still. Among the thick undergrowth of guitars, Lulo's
solos always have a particular sparkle that separates him from the
plethora of Gypsy swing guitarists beholden to his great-uncle.'
John Shand - Sydney Morning
Herald, March 24, 2017.
Daniel Weltlinger - violin (tracks
1-11) Lulo Reinhardt
- rhythm guitar (tracks 2-10) solo guitar (tracks 2, 5, 7, 10) Christiano Gitano –
rhythm guitar (tracks 2-10) solo guitar (tracks 3, 6-7, 10) Taylor Paucken –
rhythm guitar (tracks 3-4, 7, 9-10) solo guitar (tracks 3-4, 7, 9-10) Jermaine Reinhardt –
rhythm guitar (tracks 3-4, 7-8, 10) solo guitar (tracks 3-4, 7-8, 10) Romano Reinhardt –
rhythm guitar (tracks 3-4, 7, 10) Harald Becher – bass
(tracks 2-10) Winfried Schuld -
accordion (tracks 2, 9) piano (8)
1 Alone - 2:42
Enfants des Django - 4:49
4 The Family - 4:57
5 La Femme Sophistiquée - 4:52
6 Keith - 5:28
7 Samois - 5:04
8 Waterlillies - 4:25
9 3am Melun - 5:19
10 Ghosts - 3:26
11 Samoreau - 1:44
Every single human being that has ever been will at some point of time
be alone. That feeling of being by oneself, amidst a sea of sound and
confusion, drifting somewhere somehow, unsure where to go or where to
next turn, gently accepting fate’s uncanny ability to save the day.
The lazy, winding river. Banks strewn with long carelessly disregarded
long grass stems and the smell of damp within the flower beds and green
grass. Birds sing and time stands still.
Les Enfants des Django
Time warriors from far off distant lands turned wandering minstrels.
Gatekeepers of ancient traditions, full of life, sorrow and joy, taking
nothing for granted save for the passion of the moment.
Annual gathering together of the most wonderful larger than life
characters imaginable. Joyous and boisterous, quarrelsome, sweet,
loving and inquisitive.
La Femme Sophistiquée
Sensuality and heartbeak make strange but familiar bedfellows.
Conflicting hopes and dreams yet love never dies even long into the
Death is. It comes in one fell swoop and is wholly indifferent to time
or lofty grand schemes by we mere mortals. See you again one day old
Wildwest cowboy guitar slinging shoot ‘em up heaven. Dirt, straw mats
and stalls in a noisy display of upmanship juxtaposed by the heaving
barges along the river banks and the blanket of leaves from the wise
Dark green shadows lilting on top of the murky water amongst the
gurgling nightlife. Distant lights reflecting off the calm midnight sky
amidst a sea of endless stars.
Helpless hapless bewilderment and a voyage home gone wrong. Systemic
indifference leading to abandonment in the middle of nowhere one whole
unearthly long cold night well into the dawn.
always there. They’re watching you. And they know.
Placidly sitting in the grass in a corner against the long garden
hedge. Sun shining bright and kind, birds chirping in the light breeze.
Tranquility, calm and light save the day.