A kinda, sorta Russian tradition

The music of the people is a mutt wandering the world’s alleys in search of food and finding beauty. Such a florid statement feels appropriate when discussing “Russian Chanson,” presented Thursday at Walt Disney Concert Hall by the L.A. Philharmonic as part of its “Shadow of Stalin” series. After all, the songs on this program had lyrics such as “Fire up the bath for me, mistress ... let it burn me hot, white hot.” Such sentiments don’t make for genteel touristic listening.

DeVotchKa, the night’s headliner, stoked the flamboyant mood. This Denver-based group is one of independent pop’s most entertaining amalgams. Incorporating instruments including sousaphone, accordion, theremin and bouzouki, and fronted by the glamorously dissolute spaghetti tenor Nick Urata, DeVotchKa is a fantasy band for drunken weddings and noirish debauchery, the best make-believe cultural ambassador since Borat.

DeVotchKa doesn’t specialize in Russian music, or any one historical source. In two moody, rousing sets, the band made a case for mongrelism, mixing klezmer rhythms, mariachi trumpets, surf-music drums, the blurp of a sousaphone and romance of strings to access an emotional openness not easy to come by in indie rock. “Our love is sweeter than oblivion,” Urata declared.

It wasn’t clear at first what DeVotchKa has to do with the cabaret music that preceded and survived Stalinism. But Russian chanson is also a hodgepodge, combining Gypsy music, folk, jazz and blues in lyric dramas of survival and despair. Ukrainian artist Alexey Steele, who hosted the evening, described chanson as “music that connects” -- across culture and to the heart.

Before and after DeVotchKa played, a few expatriate artists sang chansons dating from 1918 to 1968. The young tenor Timur Bekbosunov, the hauntingly harmonious Legenda Duo and the gruffly powerful Victor Rivkin offered sensitive readings of ballads that shared much with the subversive street songs of other nationalities, like Greek rebetiko and Mexican corridos.

Other elements made more sense on paper than onstage. The dazzling spoken-word artist Saul Williams delivered a speech by legendary actor (and Soviet sympathizer) Paul Robeson, then performed an original work that thrilled but didn’t fit in. Petra Haden, singing “Summertime” (why?), had technical problems that led to a nervous performance.

Beyond these blips, “Russian Chanson” offered a satisfying glimpse of a fascinating tradition. And by bringing DeVotchKa to Disney Hall, the program also championed a way of approaching tradition that’s anything but mired in the past.

ann.powers@latimes.com