Xavier Dphrepaulezz, better known in the music world as Fantastic Negrito, is one of the most spellbinding artists in contemporary blues today. His albums, which have earned him Grammys, always have some combination of gospel, blues rock, unhinged roots, and freakiness to them, as if he’s a ghost from another world sharing his story. It’s a tough sound to translate to live, as he usually has a choir backing him for those huge-sounding gospel numbers, but his performance at Montreal Jazz fest was still nothing short of electrifying and surreal.
From the moment he strode onto the Rogers Stage, dressed in a bold, flamboyant ensemble—a vivid burgundy vest, huge ’70s bell bottoms, and that signature wide-brim pimp hat, wild, frazzled sideburns, and to top it all off, a golden cape with the words “Dictator of Taste,” spray-painted on—he claimed the title of “best dressed” without question. His wardrobe felt like an extension of the music: daring, soulful, and unapologetically unique. But it was his unhinged attitude that truly stole the show. His stage prescence is that of Kat Williams, a bit of Prince, and Chris Tucker in Rush Hour, that’s the only way to describe it in my eyes.
Musically, every riff, every soulful shout, and every stomp felt unleashed, teetering on the brink of chaos in the most thrilling way. Tracks from his latest album, Son of a Broken Man, felt heavy. One moment he was preaching directly to the crowd with soulful conviction, the next he was strumming wild guitar, jumping toward the edge of the stage, daring the audience to keep up. Some random 76-year-old named Pierre, that Negrito called his “cousin” randomly walked on the stage for a cover of James Brown’s “Sex Machine.”
“I didn’t know that guy existed,” he laughed. “Get on Ancestry.com”
The band matched Fantastic Negrito’s fervour at every turn, with drums pounding, organ swells amplifying the tension, and some filthy lead guitar. “Everyone thinks this next song is a love song, but it’s about trying not to cheat,” he told the audience before jumping into his grooving “I Hope Somebody’s Loving You.” I wish he had played “Lost In A Crowd,” but we did get some gospel type humming halfway through his set, so that was plenty. Long live Fantastic Negrito.
Photos by Frédérique-Ménard-Aubin
