Standing on the balcony at the Theatre du Chatelet, there is a commanding view of the Seine, the fountain, the overarching justice buildings and the high towers of Notre Dame. It’s a view that is as Parisian as Paris could be, like the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hills of Montmartre, or the view of the Louvre from the Left Bank. It’s a tourist’s wet dream. But it’s not everyday that one can have this view. Though the Theatre is open for several variety shows, access is often forbidden to the top balcony. Still, having the view tonight was the least of all luxuries.

For those who waited around, for those not wasted on acid or other ancillary itchiness, the plush red seats between one and two in the morning was heaven on earth. After midnight, the theatre was evacuated of the techno wastoids while the roadies prepared the stage for Gonzales. The wait for this, the highlight of the Francofffonies soirée, was a good forty-five minutes. But hey, the last time Gonzo played a free concert in Paris for last year’s Nuit Blanche, the wait was a good four hours long.

What makes Gonzales so good? He is the entertainer of entertainers, a real king of the Jews, a master and a mixer of  so many musical references, both old and new, arcane and mundane, that the head spins with vertigo. He is equal parts tristesse and humour, virtuousity and artistry, zany and maddeningly passionate. He can MC with the best, but throw him on a piano and the boy is in a class on his own.

The stage itself was a thing of beauty. Set in a circular opera-style theatre, with an oval chandelier, the hanging screen descended one third down the stage, with a simple upright half-facing the audience. There was a camera rigged to capture Gonzales hands on the keyboard, and a large white rectangle filled with water between himself and the audience. Gonzales appeared, dressed in three quarter white coat, like a mad professor meeting a messy waitor, complete with Mickey Mouse gloves. We could see him both thundering on stage, and his hands on the keyboard magnified above. Effective and simple.

I never imagined I would hear a concert where Scriabin, Khachaturian, Satie, Gershwin, Chopin, Hall and Oates, and Inchworm collided into something so satisfying. I’m sure there are a million other references I’m missing and perhaps that’s why Gonzales is a piano player of our times. We live in a world where all genres collide, where the average cello player has listened to everything from heavy metal to the Beatles in muzak. Gonzales, unlike the usual trend of piano proteges, is completely comfortable in his compositions throwing the whole thing into a salad spinner and going wheeee! The results are dazzling in both complexity and yet so readily accessible. Melodies blend seamlessly, performing all sorts of back-bending calisthenics, while still remaining coherent and not overly embellished. When embellished, it is done with a kind of chutzpah and brio that one would be a fool to remain academic.

There was a moment when he told us how his piano teacher would accuse him of abusing his virtuousity, and suddenly the overhead video froze. He played a melancholic version of Inchworm, all slow and twisting, as the lights dimmed deeper and deeper, lulling us to forget the player on stage and feel music without space and performance, proving his teacher wrong. Then, he got us to sing a simple gospel rhythm and the whole theatre hummed as he riffed overtop. There were moments of crystalline sadness, and moments of sheer hilarity. Finally, for his encore, he played a medley of eighties hits, starting with She’s a Maniac, moving effortlessly into Queen’s Under Pressure, then Lionel Ritchie’s Hello, and finishing off with a gorgeous Bee Gees How Deep is your love, played with piano, sometimes stomping, sometimes pure Yiddish swing.

Even better than all the pop favourites, though, were the compositions that sang purely on their own, without overt cultural references. Songs that were jazz and classical in flavour, drifting up and down in a strange wonderland of classical plasticity. These songs proved that Gonzo is more than just a referencer. He is a composer of great brilliance and a kind of reborn Gershwin for our age. The Gershwin reference comes because he both made classical music swing in jazz and pop without sacrificing any cerebral pleasure. 

Only one thing left to say. Lucky us.