Twice this past weekend, I had the happy experience of being part of an audience that fell in love. The people who came out to hear Barbara Cook and Audra McDonald felt that tingle of being part of a perfectly executed concert -- it was niche music, but left them with the pleased feeling that there was no place better to be. The same thing happened the next evening at Lisner Auditorium, where Gilberto Gil made a rare U.S. appearance.

 

Gil, who has mostly put aside music these last few years in favor of his job as Brazil's minister of culture, was one of the great stars of that country's "Tropicalia" movement -- its 1960s blend of politics and culture. Gil was a great one for mixing things up, not limiting himself to the popular bossa nova sounds but mixing in sambas and other dance rhythms as his career progressed.

 

It wasn't so much of a dance show the other night. It was just Gil, his voice and his guitar alone on stage. At first, I was worried that Gil's voice sounded a little more raspy and a little less strong than I remembered from records. He's 64 now -- a fact he commemorated with a charming rendition of Paul McCartney's "When I'm 64." But Gil's voice got stronger quickly, displaying an impressive range, and his guitar playing was also excellent, strums and picks of many different moods.

 

Gil sang mostly in Portuguese, of course. His other English language tune was by Bob Marley -- it was a little funny to think about him playing Beatles and Bob Marley songs casually, as just the work of contemporaries, since they seem so much a part of the distant past. He also performed tunes by fellow Brazilian Dori Caymmi and the Mexican Agustin Lara. But mostly it was his own stuff.

 

And Gil has quite a range -- the usual love songs expected in pop music, but also plenty of protest songs. Or so I assumed, when his numbers would end with a passionate cry and upraised fist that seemed political. Gil used to get arrested and was exiled for his troubles in the old days, long before he became part of the government.

 

Much of the audience was having a different experience from me. There were plenty of Brasilieros in the crowd, not only able to follow the meaning of his songs and spoken words, but embracing them. Here was one of the icons of their culture, a person who comes equipped with certain political and nostalgic resonances. They hung on his every word -- the quietest coffeeshop audience for a singer-songwriter, in a hall holding hundreds -- and clapped and sang along lustily to favorite songs.

 

I haven't been a great follower of Gil's work, but I was glad to get the chance to witness him live and am enjoying one of his CDs in the background as I type.