Living in London, you’re often reminded just what is just how many people how many people there are from unexpected places around the world. Cafe Oto is a magnet for these sorts of diasporas.
Last year I enjoyed Malian band L’Etran De L’Air, a fantastic night of African guitar pop. This time round, it is the turn of Enji, a jazz singer from Mongolia, now based in Munich. For a Sunday night in February, she drew a significant amount of support from London’s Mongolian community. According to the 2011 Census, 971 of the UK’s 1689 Mongolian national born lived in London. Move on 13 years and I’d hazard that 50 of the current population were at Cafe Oto – and very cool looking they were too.
A few years ago, there was a minor buzz around Yat Kha, a Mongolian throat singer who had made an album of cover versions of songs from acts as diverse as Motörhead, Captain Beefheart and Joy Division. Characterised by an ability to simultaneously resonate the vocal cords in different frequencies, it lent itself to deep masculine rock music.
Enji is a million miles away from this. She sings jazz, mostly in her native language but occasionally in English. Her voice does have a considerable range though, influenced by traditional long song. She’s got an ability to hold notes for a considerable length of time. I confess to not knowing enough about Mongolian singing to know if her style is reflective of a wider style or is particular to her.
Whichever it is, it made for an evening of approachable and accessible wonderful music. Whilst some of Cafe Oto’s fare can lean toward scaring the horses, this easily passed the “invite my other half” threshold. Playing a trio of vocals, double bass and guitar, this was melodic jazz but with a unique ingredient provided by Enji’s Mongolian roots. The language lends itself to my western ear in the same way that Portuguese or Japanese singing does. Not glottal like Chinese or German, Enji’s phrasing isn’t a million miles away from Astrid Gilberto, Regina Elis or Yakiko Yane.
Guitarist and songwriting partner Paul Brandon played a spare accompaniment, occasionally just scrapes or hints of notes, allowing the focus to be on Enji’s vocals, such as the opening song of the evening, Zuud (which also happens to be the lead track on her latest album, Ulaan).
The album features woodwind but we had just Brandle’s textures and River Adomeit’s bass to flesh out the sound live. The lack of accompaniment didn’t matter, which was primarily down to Enji’s voice. It has so much range but also has an ability to create harmonies with her collaborators. The space between the notes works brilliantly too, with restraint being the watch word. Nothing flash, nothing extraneous.
We saw Enji over the weekend of the new lunar year and she spoke about how music featured in every day Mongolian life particularly at times of celebration. This sense of community was a theme through the evening, especially with such a contigent from her homeland in the audience. It brought a particular warmth on a chilly winter’s evening.
The single encore was a solo acapella version of I’m Glad There Is You, the 1941 Jimmy Dorsey standard. It was a perfect understated end to a wonderful evening.
In this world of ordinary people
Jimmy Dorsey and Paul Madeira
Extraordinary people i’m glad there is you
In this world of overrated pleasures
And underrated treasures
I’m so glad there is you
It feels a rare privilege to be in the company of such skilled musicians and in Enji’s case, one so culturally removed from one’s own. To share that space with people from her own country, so far away, was moving. For a couple of hours, Hackney felt just a little closer to Ulaanbaatar, as farfetched an idea that may seem.
BlackCountryRock 
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