By Todd Lavoie
Last night I had the most peculiar dream. There I was, in Paris of all places, glug-glugging champagne from the boot of a Moulin Rouge can-can showgirl while a pair of elephants bejeweled with emeralds and rubies swaggered a slow bolero to the one-two-three/one-two-three of a rowdy accordionist grinding out hot-pepper triplets from the razor edge of a tightrope hung above.
I pulled my hungry gullet away from the champagne overflow and the heaving tray of exquisite pastries cradled in my lap to crane my neck in the direction of the most deliciously weepy cello I'd ever heard, sighing into my ears from overhead. Up in the balcony, swaying back and forth, were two young lovers with eyes blazing hot 'n bothered, and every time their fingers touched, the swell of strings surged out of them. I looked out into the crowd--- jugglers, acrobats, fire-eaters, starry-eyed mystics, couples dancing with the sheer wild damn-it-all abandon of being in love for the first time. My cat, Pickles, was playing the castanets with fierce precision. Hell, I don't even have a cat.
Oh, and I was speaking French. Fluently. Telling jokes, even. Funny ones. Without any detectable trace of an American accent whatsoever. Hmm, was that champagne after all? Or was it absinthe?
Whatever that sweet nectar was which I couldn't stop guzzling in my dream, I'm pretty sure the accompanying soundtrack was provided by Rupa and the April Fishes. Headed by guitarist-physician-social activist-bearer-of-swooning-melodies Rupa, this local septet crafts deliriously evocative sonic travelogues in which everything becomes possible…even yours truly speaking complete sentences in French without sounding like Inspector Clouseau!
Honestly, a listen to their recent self-released Extraordinary Rendition is a perfect way to spend 52 minutes away from the day's stresses and grumbles to indulge in a bit of much-needed magic realism. Spinning a seamless mix of tango, French musette, jazz, and quite possibly a dozen other song forms in between - while volleying between singing in French, English, Spanish, Hindi, and Roma, just to keep the journey more interesting - these folks are the shining embodiment of globalization-gone-good.
"World fusion music," some might call it. As someone who has very fond memories of drunken trots through impromptu street parties during last year's World Cup, let me just say that Rupa and the April Fishes remind me of those festive convergences in which folks from all over the world would get together to kick it up, regardless of language barrier. Imagine Edith Piaf, Paris Combo, Astor Piazzolla, Django Reinhart, Cesaria Evora, and Fanfare Ciocarlia meetin' up post-match to tear it up in a public square, and you'll know what I mean.
A Rupa and the April Fishes show is a sight to behold on any day of the week, but a performance on Bastille Day should be a magnificent thing indeed. I can't promise there'll be any elephants or endless fountains of champagne, but I'm more than to bet there'll be magic involved.
They perform with MC Rai, Les Croque Notes on Saturday, July 14, 9 p.m., at Great American Music Hall, 859 O'Farrell, SF. $16. (415) 885-0750
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