AN AIR of the Greek taverna — sadly, minus the ouzo — descended on the Barbican Hall as a 10-strong ensemble turned on the ignition and went through the bouzouki-driven musical gears of rebetiko at this tribute concert to Markos Vamvakaris.

This particular strand of the genre — the music and song of those living on the margins and the working class in the hang-outs around the port of Piraeus — was nurtured by Vamvakaris, a legend among Greeks past and present.

A figure larger than life, the “partriarch of rebetiko” was born into extreme poverty on the island of Syros in 1905. Escaping from the law, he moved to Piraeus, where he worked as a stevedore and later as a skinner in an abattoir. He died in 1972.

Bouzouki music provided respite to those who lived on the margins of society where hashish took the mind off life’s wretchedness and Vamvakaris soon became its epitome as his lyrics and sound resonated deeply with his public.

Rebetiko, from the Turkish rebet, means rebellious or disobedient and its music was, in its heyday, anti-establishment and considered a “threat to the morals of the nation.” Its exponents were persecuted and jailed and it was banned during the fascist military junta of the ’70s.

The Greek diaspora in the audience on this sold-out night were entranced and joined in on the best-loved numbers. Yannis Kotsiras, Sofia Papazoglou and Evelina Aggelou gave some outstanding interpretations, with Kotsiras’s voice particularly sonorous and rich in emotion, while Papazoglou’s accordion-driven arrangements added a riveting polyphony.

A special emotional charge was added by the presence of the master’s son Stelios Vamvakaris, himself a mean bouzouki player and singer. In full flow, and with thrilling vocal harmonies, this was stirring stuff.

Franz Ferdinand front man, the Glaswegian Alex Kapranos, whose doctor father once treated Vamvakaris, read passages from the master’s slightly vainglorious biography and drew approving laughs at his pertinent comment —“What do they care?” — on the nazis’ wilful destruction of Vamvakaris’s master tape recordings. Greece 1-Germany 0, on the night.

A single disappointment were the back projections — shot around Syros, the images had an inconsequential travelogue feel and non-Greek-speakers would have appreciated having had at least short synopses of the songs displayed to help connect more meaningfully with the anti-authoritarian narratives.

There was an emotional standing ovation at the end, well-deserved if ever there was one.

Review by Michal Boncza