By BRUCE DENNILL
88 / Directed by Rocco de Villiers and Coenie de Villiers / Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre, Fourways, Johannesburg
Taking its name from the number of keys on a piano keyboard, 88 is built to showcase the skills of highly regarded pianists Rocco and Coenie de Villiers (they’re not related, just close friends). Sadly, there is no room for folk singer-songwriter Andre de Villiers, who is admittedly more of a guitar guy, but perhaps that could happen in a future show…
The De Villierseseses (what’s the plural in this case?) are joined by a guitarist on stage – no less than double Grammy winner Mauritz Lotz, who is generally regarded as at or near the top of the technical and talent pile, but who true to his humble nature, is happy to let his colleagues take nearly all of the spotlights, and to simply add nuanced colour and rhythm through his restrained, purposefully mixed-down playing.
The set-up for Rocco and Coenie involves two Yamaha baby grands with microphones plus two more microphones centre stage, where the pianists regularly congregate to swap stories, punchlines, gentle barbs and book and poetry readings. For a show in which the virtuosity level is so high, many of these non-playing interludes are cheerfully loose. It looks like this is by design; if not, it’s down to Rocco’s unpredictability in terms of veering off-topic (with a mischievous glint in his eye) and Coenie’s long-suffering sighs and eye rolling in response.
It’s all played up for the audience and enjoyable in its own right, but with this much musical firepower on offer, the show might be stronger still if it was a more concentrated showcase of pure musicianship; of what the duo are capable of while seated at their instruments. When they do get going in that context, it’s undeniably impressive, with their superficially disparate styles gelling beautifully and creating intriguing texture in the combined passages.
Rocco, in a leopard print suit with shorts instead of trousers and brightly coloured socks to go with high-top sneakers, comes across a bit Alan Cumming if he were born in a Bloemfontein gym and trained under Liberace. Coenie, all in black, suggests Michael Macdonald by way of Koos du Plessis, with David Kramer’s love of the Karoo. Their mutual respect and the genuine warmth between them are both strongly evident and when they – between occasional solos – double up on the melodies for each others’ solo compositions, the playing communicates all of that clearly.
The pieces are played over backing tracks that add drums, bass and other layers to proceedings – dynamics that do help fill the theatre and the size of the sound created by the trio on stage. Again, though, given just how well all of them can play, and the thrill that comes with crisp, old-fashioned analogue performance at a higher standard than most people can manage, perhaps a less occluded sonic presentation – just fingers on keys and strings with ridiculously relaxed precision – could deliver the premium version of this show.