According to a Bulgarian informant, Ivo Papasov’s stage banter included the claim that he “can still make babies”. To prove the point the handsomely potbellied 56-year-old clarinettist proceeded to play a high-octane set of gypsy wedding music and wildly inventive Bulgarian folk. It was an outstanding display of stamina and creativity from the Balkan maestro, who has sent many a pair of newlyweds on their way to the nuptial bower with his songs ringing in their ears.
Papasov learnt his chops playing weddings in Bulgaria. Of Roma and Turkish origin, he’s one of his country’s best-known stars, although the recognition hasn’t come easily. In 1982 he was sent to a labour camp for his interest in “un-Soviet” music. He changed his name from “Ibrahim” to the less Turkish-sounding “Ivo” in order to escape discrimination.
Even in respectable middle-age, Papasov has something of the outlaw musician about him, accentuated at this show by his grubby black and white striped shirt, which gave him the look of a portly convict digging a tunnel to freedom.
His music is an entrepôt of urgent gypsy rhythms, plangent Balkan folk motifs and improvisatory jazz. Hypnotic beats supported Papasov’s Turkish-influenced clarinet harmonies on “Dance of the Falcon”, the title track of his new album: it’s the song that led to his arrest in 1982.
He was joined by an accordionist, flautist, guitarist and drummer. Each took their turn in the limelight performing solos, and the interplay between the musicians was delightful, such as the blaring call-and-response routines in “Donino Horo”. Papasov’s wife Maria Karafizieva, dressed in Thracian folk costume, contributed ululating vocals to several tracks, causing a line of dancers to snake through the audience performing traditional dance routines – imagine a Balkan conga, ie with fancy footwork rather than the usual drunken lurching.
The slower tracks were unconvincing: tinny synth beats and ponderous keyboard chords lent them a bathetic air. Papasov’s unhappiness with the sound quality also affected the opening stages of the show, though he relaxed as it progressed, fingers nimbly skipping over his clarinet as he blew stupendously fast riffs and squealing solos. The music had animation and heat; it was new life breathed into old traditions.