BIRÉLI LAGRÈNE IS one of the most accomplished jazz guitarists of the past four decades, yet his playing still radiates a boyish wonder and curiosity. I caught his recent show at Freight & Salvage in Berkeley, California, in a duo setting with fellow phenom Martin Taylor, where Lagrène displayed sheer playful virtuosity. His plucking thumb alone is a marvel and could practically do a gig by itself. When supporting Taylor, Biréli would add an octave effect and become a badass bassist with deep pockets. When at the fore, his ability to casually throw in outrageously advanced licks or crazy chords for utter amusement brought Jeff Beck and Tommy Emmanuel to mind. The audience was full of cats smiling to themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief and occasionally laughing out loud in admiration at his total command of the strings.
To longtime readers and jazz fans, this is not headline news, but somehow Lagrène has remained somewhat under the radar — an oddity, considering his ridiculous resume. As a child prodigy, the French maestro was immediately recognized as a premier purveyor of authentic gypsy jazz. He achieved international stardom in his early teens with the release of his 1980 album, . But unlike the handful of guitarists who master Django Reinhardt’s style to a high degree, only to be pigeonholed, Lagrène spread his wings, touring with Al Di Meola, Paco de Lucia and John McLaughlin. He
