There was a time in my life when I would spend entire evenings watching Mezzo. It became a ritual of sorts, after long days filled with work, stress, and unpredictability, the hours spent on Mezzo were a comforting and delightful constant. Classical concerts blended with contemporary ballet performances and jazz festivals. I would check the French channel’s schedule religiously to make sure I wouldn’t miss a piano concert by Martha Argerich, a specific show choreographed by the incredible Mats Ek, or a symphony conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. A live broadcast. This ongoing indulgence created a sense of well-being, no matter how the day had unfolded.
At one point, when I moved to a new house and my new cable provider had removed Mezzo from its grid, I started making phone calls and filing complaints. Of course, it wasn’t because of me (or thanks to me) that the channel eventually reappeared in their offer. That didn’t stop me from seeing it as a glorious personal victory and feeling like, if I couldn’t move mountains, at least I could shift a few TV channels.
But let’s get back to Mezzo and what it gave me over the years. One of their brilliant creations was a segment called Intermezzo – a collection of short clips filling the time before the next full-hour program. These intermissions between grand concerts and performances felt like little boxes of chocolate. No—like jewelry boxes. Everything inside was precious. And there was always the surprise of discovering something new and breathtaking.
It was through Intermezzo that I first heard Lhasa de Sela and Lizz Wright, Renaud Garcia-Fons, and Diego el Cigala. The wild Japanese musicians of Soil & “Pimp” Sessions. Artists I have remained friends with to this day. (Well, they don’t know we’re friends, but that’s a minor detail… :))
Intermezzo was also where I discovered a certain gentleman, once a child prodigy, later an exceptional bassist, and ultimately, a legendary guitarist. Influenced by the father of jazz manouche, Django Reinhardt, a master of improvisation, both subtle and explosive, graceful yet infectiously enthusiastic, this artist became an emblem of gypsy jazz, fusion, and its many intertwined styles. His name? Biréli Lagrène.
Over the years, he has collaborated with jazz royalty like John McLaughlin, Paco de Lucía, and Al Di Meola, and was part of mesmerizing lineups alongside Jack Bruce & Ginger Baker, Stanley Clarke, and Miroslav Vitouš.
And in June, he will be part of the Jazz in the Park adventure in Cluj. If you’re curious about how the musical translation of joie de vivre sounds, this is one concert you simply cannot afford to miss.
Written by Diana Popescu
