by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

At first glance, the latest incarnation of Canadian-born musician Gonzales (previously Chilly Gonzales, before that Jason Beck of the CanCon alt-rock unit Son) couldn’t be more different from the bombastic tomfoolery of the millennial antics which cemented an international rep for the man and his cohorts Peaches and Mocky.

Just as Paris has replaced Berlin as his base of operations (so as to offer production assists to Françoise Hardy, Jane Birkin, Katerine and an aborted effort with the great Charles Aznavour), the excessive electro-rap “jackass styles” of Beck’s Chilly Gonzales persona have given way to the understated, instrumental sketches of Solo Piano, his 2004 album on the No Format label. Solo Piano seems suited to the conservatory, not the karaoke dump. Hinting at everything from Tin Pan Alley to Erik Satie, the subtle pieces suggest a vast array of moods and moments, and a more reserved creator, one who, it should be noted, has always planted the seeds of his music on the piano first.

“Chilly Gonzales is very much the guy who got your attention by screaming and comes on like a bull in a china shop,” Gonzales says over the phone from his Parisian studio. “Now, if that guy is only ever doing that, he can wear out his welcome. What’s more interesting is the screaming guy who suddenly starts whispering and you have to lean in to hear him.

“That’s exactly the gesture I was thinking of with the piano album. Just keeping my sense of humour limited to the artwork and song titles and most of all the show, which is very much related to what I did before on stage, although only on the piano. It’s not an introverted piano recital, like you might imagine by just hearing the album. It’s very much interactive, and very much has all the Andy Kaufman-Victor Borge elements that have always been there. It’s like a one-man Broadway show.”

There, then, is the common factor between the two efforts—showmanship, something Beck had to “unlearn” his way to after his stint with Son. “My experiences in Canada had been disappointing, because I hadn’t really stepped up on the extra-musical elements of music making. I believed in many of the myths that young musicians believe in, and thankfully had them shattered very quickly through my very quick experiences with Warner, with touring, taking a group of guys on the road to promote my music.”

The big myth, the windmill at which Chilly Gonzales tilted, was that there’s something gauche and pathetic about dressing up, acting out, getting down and goofing around for the benefit of the crowd—being The Entertainist, to crib from a Chilly Gonzales album title.

“This myth didn’t exist until very recently. Having had the chance to work with some much older musicians lately, I realize just how far we’ve gone in this anti-calculation idea, the idea that designing something with intent is bad and that you’re supposed to be spontaneous and sincere. When I’m sitting there with Charles Aznavour, I’m starting to realize that this is a new, and by my personal lifestyle tastes, a wrong path. The most I can do is offer my other vision, of how you can have supposedly credible music—with an incredible show!”

With Irving Fields and Socalled at Théâtre National (1220 Ste-Catherine E.) on Monday, Oct. 3, $17.50

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