Lousson Reinhardt - film clip (new to me)

TonyRees

This interview and short film of Lousson with his group playing Nuits De St-Germain-Des-Prés is new to me - recently posted to YouTube from the INA archives (I presume). Unless this is not news to others of course! We previously discussed Lousson's recorded legacy here, in part at least, but I don't think this clip was mentioned: https://www.djangobooks.com/forum/discussion/17959/louisson-eugene-vees-duet-on-film

The "new"(?) one is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFTjsIF9mnM - music from around 2:56 onwards...

Regards - Tony

TonyRees

This copy seems to have slightly better proportions - unless I am imagining it! https://www.facebook.com/reel/4308499352725676

DjoeNL

https://youtu.be/FG9pbT8jkjc?si=hfCm_PiuEIfUougz

TonyRees

One more as well - includes another version "Nuits..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsAkIEHh4tY

wim

He is good on the two fingers style!

Buco

I noticed that too. He definitely favors index and middle fingers even though he uses the ring finger occasionally.

scot

This is from my correspondence with Jean-Marie Pallen back in the 90s. The translation is sometimes a bit clumsy, but it gives a little insight into this mysterious character:

At a musicians rendez-vous in Pigalle, I met a guitarist (Simon Lustigman) who was definitely older than me and had an extraordinary knowledge of the American jazz repertoire. He knew everything. I quickly became his "regular" accompanist. Our rappports were balanced by the fact that I had superior guitar knowledge. With his red Porsche, he often took me to the jam session at the American base in Fontainebleau where I rubbed elbows with the superb American jazzmen in uniform and from whom I obviously learned a lot. For some time Simon had accompanied Lousson Baumgartner, the son of Django Reinhardt. He spoke of Lousson with the greatest respect, telling me that he would introduce me one day. The opportunity came quickly enough for a concert where Lousson had asked Simon to find a bassist to make a trio. These were the early days of the electric bass - this new instrument was still looking for it's proper place - there were not yet any real bass specialists and only the guitarists knew how to use it. Simon, certain that I could manage, borrowed a bass and brought it to me, telling me that I was going to accompany Lousson with him. They arrived at the little room in rue Audran where I lived, to rehearse this concert. After three or four minutes, Lousson stopped playing. With an air of intrigue he says to me: "Do you play the guitar yourself?” “Bien sur" I replied. Speaking to Simon and me: "Change instruments. Simon, you take the bass, and you, Jean-Marie, take the guitar." We swapped instruments and continued the rehearsal. A few moments later, Lousson told us that we would play the concert in this arrangement with me on guitar and Simon on bass. After this first concert as a trio, Lousson and I began playing as a duet in striptease cabarets in Pigalle. It was very bizarre to be in the middle of all these beautiful girls who ran naked behind the scenes to get dressed and start again their number with other clothes in front of the crowd of dullards . But every time we played, it was a bit like an angel passed by. To everyone's surprise, we had a lot of success in these cabarets. The girls looked at us and listened with astonishment, often they asked us what we were doing in these places... But this clientele was not for us, nor we for them. We had three or four cabarets a night, and Lousson quickly found it boring. We continued to do concerts in the suburbs, in Youth Houses, Cultural events etc. and also for private parties in the capital. He played marvelously well, there was always something unforeseen. An instinctive musician, he was the faithful image of the style his father had between the years 1947 and 1950. He was not a virtuoso guitarist in the sense that the word is usually used, but he was sometimes able to release a sound, a passage, a phrase, which in the context, became fantastic. In any case, he was an improviser of great sensitivity, a worthy, remarkable and authentic heir to his father's genius.

Lousson did not own a guitar and he always had to somehow get someone to lend him one. One day in 1965, he came to small room my wife and I inhabited in rue Audran asking me to lend him mine for the concert we had to do the next day. I put my guitar in it's case and gave it to him. He took it, says thank you, and as he was leaving, he declared that he did not have an amp either. He liked the sound of the one I had and asked me to lend it to him. With a sigh, I unplugged it, put on it's cover and gave it to him. He says thank you and goes quietly to the door. I pointed out to him that I no longer have a guitar or an amp, and that the I did not really know what to do for the next day's concert. He turns around, my guitar in one hand and my amp in the other, and with a wink, said: "Well, you just have to do like I do – borrow one! You know someone who will loan you a guitar and amp. I'll see you tomorrow Jean-Marie." Turning respectfully towards Huguette, who was five or six months pregnant and was lying on the bed, he said: "Au revoir, Madame." After his departure Huguette exclaimed: "It's incredible, it is just a few months that we are married, and I see around you only completely wacky types. It seems that there are no normal people in your business. Lousson does not live on the same planet as we do!” “It is true. .. But do not forget that he is of a high lineage, he has so much talent, he is as sweet as Django, he's not a bad guy at all. I know that he has total confidence in me, do not worry, I'll have a guitar tomorrow.”

On Sunday, May 21, 1978, during the commemoration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the death of his father at Samois-sur-Seine, I accompanied Lousson for the last time. I was surrounded by two great musicians, faithful friends in whom I had complete confidence, Jacques Devenais on drums and Pierre Moreilhon on bass. I had written for Lousson custom arrangements. During the rehearsal the day before at home, on the twenty - first floor of my building at Porte d'Ivry , he expressed his satisfaction and pleasure in playing with this lineup and these arrangements . And, as usual, he left with my guitar. In grand style, he opened the show, masterfully playing the five pieces planned. However, on the broadcast of this concert on television some time later, the name of Lousson Reinhardt was not even pronounced. For some obscure reason, the programmers and directors completely omitted Lousson's performance. While the end credits rolled on the television screen, which only knows how to lie and be unfair, my phone started to ring. When I picked it up, Lousson was at the other end, he was crying: "Jean-Marie, I will never play again, it's not possible to make me, on television they are all fools. They have forgotten the respect they owe to my father, I will leave France. I do not think we'll see each other again, goodbye. " I did not have time to comfort him, to tell him that it did not matter, that these people did not deserve his wrath, that the most important thing was that he continue to play, that he testifies again his father's music, which even then was starting to sound like a caricature of Django, but he had hung up. I never saw him again. During the summer of 1993, I went for a walk in Samois - sur - Seine and took a few moments to have a look at Django's grave. A photo of Lousson playing on his guitar at this famous concert was fixed to the tombstone, keeping company with the photos of Django and his brother Joseph. An unfortunate way to learn the death of a friend whom I had accompanied for fourteen years. Lousson Reinhardt died on 18 July 1992.

Simon Lustigman's Selmer was for sale in the US 10 or 15 years ago by a guitar broker in San Diego named Richard Glick. There was something sketchy about the whole thing but I don't recall what it was. Lustigman had a long career as a journeyman guitarist in Paris.

TonyRees

Thanks so much Scot for reproducing that information in your post.

Buco

Thank you Scot, that was a beautifully written story.

I can't help but think that despite the incredibly strange and rude television snub, that couldn't have been the only thing that pushed him to walk away. He must've been surrounded by admiration as well, he knew how much people loved hearing him play. That TV interviewer couldn't stop gushing how happy he was to have finally met him and how he loves his music. Lousson barely got a chance to say anything. Similar thing in the other interview, the interviewer did most of the talking. It's obvious that he was a man of fewer words, but at the same time people were super excited to be in his presence. Lousson did mention in the other interview how he carries a heavy burden by following in his father's legacy. That could be telling about what eventually came to be. It could've been that him being omitted in that broadcast (again, how strange and rude and ignorant to leave out the son of the person the festival is dedicated to) was just a final drop in the cup already full to the brink which then spilled.

Thank you Tony for starting all this.