Zachary & His High-Flying Club

Behold the fresh-faced chansonnier
from the rose-coloured desert.
Zach Condon first picked-up a trumpet at the age of 15.
A year later, he dropped out of high-school
and hitchhiked around Europe. There, his head was swayed
by the brass of Boban Marković and Goran Bregović
and the award-winning imagery of Emir Kusturica.
There he developed an addictive taste for
Romany riffs, Gitanos grooves and Balkan beats.
Luckily, I’ve come prepared. My stomach is lined with
tender beef goulash, potato pancakes and smetana,
all washed down with a swift shot of 40% Wódka.
The Boy Wonder cradles his golden flügelhorn
to his skinny white shoulder like a Conch Shell,
as he warbles away in his hypnotic bittersweet baritone.
The thrift-store Greenpoint Orkestrar strike up a melody.
It’s raucous, glorious, brash, melodramatic and full of feeling.
This is the sound of a travelling Francylvannian Mariachi circus.
This is the restless rat-a-tat spirit of a wandering wunderkind.
This is New Mexican gypsy folk pop at its best.
Zach Condon has never been to the Lebanon,
but he understands that the Mediterranean
seaport of Beirut is nothing if not an urban palimpsest.
The kind of place with many layers.
The kind of place where things come together.
The kind of place where cultures can collide.
So sure, Gogol Bordello may have the “authenticity”,
but Zach Condon has the heart
and the soul
and god bless him,
the enchanting tunesmithery to go with it.
Long may he masquerade. Ba-da-bing! Ba-da-boing!

Zach performs 'Nantes' on the streets of Gay Paris

Beirut: Soirée De Poche (La Blogotheque)