Never before in Munich has Melody Gardot been seen strutting across the stage so relaxed and without a cane as on this evening. While she used to have to use a cane at every concert after a terrible accident at the age of 18 when she was run over by a car, this time she floats and strides – cheers for physiotherapy – across the stage of the Isarphilharmonie. The only thing that has remained of her injury is her sunglasses to protect against light sensitivity. And so Gardot prances across the stage as a noir-blonde appearance: black pants suit, high heels, red lipstick and a blond hair sculpture on his head like something out of an old Hollywood film.
Gardot moves so elegantly, confidently and high-heeled across the stage, as if it were about celebrating with every step that she can finally – on some days at least – walk the way she always sings: casual and cool, decelerated and smooth. The voice of the 37-year-old lolls and snuggles up to the ears of the audience. She flirts with the eroticism of the slow, reins in the joy of playing in the eight-piece band (including four strings), which she directs with spread movements of her hand. And just touches the keys of the grand piano, which she has otherwise freed up for her new musical intimate: the pianist Philippe Powell, son of the Brazilian guitar legend Baden Powell.
Sometimes the full bath turns into a pose in one’s own coolness. But whenever luxurious drowsiness threatens, the other, the Brazil-loving Gardot, appears: Then she cheerfully sings in a duet with Powell – he in Brazilian, she in French – “Samba Em Prelúdio (Un Jour Sans Toi)”, a classic by Baden Powell and Vinicius de Moraes. The Chopin-inspired number, for which the French music producer, actor and bossa nova discoverer Pierre Barouh wrote a French text, becomes the musical highlight of the evening, which alternates between chanson, dimmed jazz and bossa nova.
It ends with a banging gypsy swing version of “Les Étoiles”, a feature for the strings with the superb cellist Arytom Manukyan. Percussionist and drummer Jorge Bezerra, a paragon of music-making mood, prepares the audience for the encores with a gossip workshop before Powell and saxophonist Irwin Hall immerse the stage in the hum of Afro-Brazilian Berimabau sounds. For the finale, Melody sings her first hit again: “Baby, I’m a Fool”. Only with a guitar and the diction of an expat in Paris who prefers to live the romantic dream of love there.