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May 17th, 2008

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Jazzman creates a soulful sound

Pre-eminent musician had front-row seat to tactics of former communist regime

May 7th, 2008 issue

By Brian Reagan

COURTESY PHOTO

Guitarist Luboš Andršt (center) collaborated with the Framus Five in the 1970s. Also pictured: (left-right) Ivan Trnka, founder Michal Prokop, Jiří Kysela, Ladislav Eliáš. enlarge

COURTESY PHOTO

Blues great B.B. King jammed with Andršt two times following the Velvet Revolution. enlarge

enlarge

The Andršt File

Born: 1948 in Prague
Profession: Self-taught guitarist
Influences: Whatever his ears pick up
Children: Veronika, 7, Jana, 4
Ungelt Jazz & Blues Club: Jazzblues.cz
AghaRTA Jazz Centrum: Agharta.cz
Faust Records: Faust.cz
David Murphy Band: Murphyband.cz
Stan the Man Bohemia Blues Band: Stantheman.cz

For the Post

Descend into the atmospheric, ancient cellars of AghaRTA Jazz Centrum or Ungelt Jazz and Blues Club to immerse yourself in the jazz and blues of guitarist Luboš Andršt.

He takes the stage without a word, showing a stoic charisma that turns into true joy as the music takes control.

It’s not subtle — this is not background music. But, for either Andršt’s jazz show at AghaRTA or his blues program at Ungelt, the bands play tight sets — weaving ideas and images together, first, soft and sweet, then aggressive, energetic and soaring.

At AghaRTA, the Luboš Andršt Group plays an eclectic blend of original songs inspired by traditional jazz, jazz fusion and progressive jazz with a hint of blues.

At Ungelt, the Luboš Andršt Blues Band features singer Reesie Davis. The occasional guest also steps in, including well-known musicians such as Rambling Rex and Lukáš Martínek.

Both offer soulful sounds, a unique mix of traditional and original songs.

Born in 1948 in Prague, Andršt was raised in Central Europe’s postwar political and economic maelstrom. He picked up a guitar at the age of 12 and started learning the instrument, using “my ears as my only teacher.”

It wasn’t an easy time to take up what seemed like such an unassuming avocation. Rock ’n’ roll music was just starting to make its presence known in communist Czechoslovakia in the early 1960s and the authorities weren’t happy.

Andršt’s first gig was with the trio Blues Company Ltd. in 1968, the type of band that the “powers that be” decided to tolerate.

In 1970, Andršt began a musical union with singer/composer Michal Prokop and the now legendary Framus Five band. It’s a collaboration that has lasted to this day.

The 1970s were a time of stark contrasts for music in Czechoslovakia, as the government institutionalized repression on musicians.

Country guitar was tolerated by the authorities, while jazz was suspect. Blues and rock guitarists faced harassment, said Richard Mader, owner of Faust Records in Prague and a longtime friend of Andršt’s.

“Overdrive your guitar sound, and it was a downright threat to all things sacrosanct,” Mader said.

All musicians were required to apply for government permits to perform and put on shows. But, as a rule, the government would usually deny the permits, anyway.

To play the game, however, musicians would submit their music and lyrics to be analyzed. Personal records were researched for any previous infraction or association with other musicians who had been denied. And players would be tested for their musical knowledge.

In such repressive times, there is an idealistic notion that people who are confronted by strict rules will unite. In Czechoslovakia, things seemed more fragmented.

For example, Andršt decided to make music his top priority rather than protest, a goal that separated him from some of his contemporaries.

In contrast, the bizarrely ubiquitous Plastic People of the Universe used their music to “put a stick in the eye” of the state. Since they were more about protest than about the music, they would push the edge of the envelope in terms of their strange sound.

Admirable as such a notion is, it doesn’t afford many opportunities to play, however, Mader points out. And members of the Plastic People were jailed more than once.

But even focusing on the music could not keep Andršt from coming to the attention of the authorities. He once drew their attention when his audience blockaded a railway track in an effort to return to Prague after a show about 60 kilometers (37 miles) outside of the capital.

In such a black artistic environment, it was tough for musicians to record and promote their work. Persevering against the odds, Luboš recorded his band Energit in 1975. Their self-titled debut album sold an incredible total of nearly 50,000 copies, all songs penned by Andršt.

Those who lived through the repressive time say such bands could impress censors with their musicianship, and there were no lyrics to draw their ire. Energit was one of the best-known examples of the common strategy.

With such potential for frustration, why did Andršt decide to stay in the Soviet sphere, rather than leave, as so many of his contemporaries did?

“Someone had to stay and play the music,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Staying here was where I belonged, and where the music was special. Out there, it would have been lost among all the other players trying to get attention.”

As a result of his tenacity, Andršt became one of the nation’s most respected musicians over the years. He created the Guitar Clinic television series, wrote the now re-published “Jazz, Rock, Blues” music textbook and ultimately produced 37 records.

Then, when 1989 came, music literally exploded onto the streets.

“I waited 40 years for it to happen,” Andršt said. “We always knew it would happen because the system was built on nothing, but we just could never know when.”

He drew on the new energy and new influences, coordinating with international jazz and blues celebrities who wanted to play in the former communist country.

Probably the best, he says, was the 1998 Congress Center jam session with B.B. King. A scheduled five-minute stage appearance with the American jazz great turned into a 30-minute jam session that brought down the house.

King’s praise of Andršt was so great that the two played together again in 2000 in Zlín, south Moravia.

“After so many years of learning B.B.’s music note for note, it only took a few minutes for my nerves to calm down,” Andršt said. “Then playing with B.B. was like being right back in my kitchen. He threw a pretty strange key at me, but it just opened up and felt right.”

Andršt also plays with Prague musicians such as David Murphy and Scot Stanislaw Wolarz, better known as Stan the Man.

“Luboš is clearly one of the best guitarists in this part of the world,” said Murphy, head of the David Murphy Band in Prague. “He plays a lot of different styles, ranging from blues to jazz to fusion to rock. Sometimes I wish I knew half of what he does.”

“I’ve played more than 100 shows with Luboš,” Wolarz said wryly, “and I still don’t know if what he’s playing is the blues. Whatever it is, though, it’s incredible.”

He has a lot to show for his years of struggle, to the benefit of music lovers everywhere.

Andršt, who turns 60 this year, is now busy raising his two daughters, Veronika, 7 and Jana, 4.

Brian Reagan can be reached at features@praguepost.com

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