Music lovers of varying ages and walks of life united to celebrate the illustrious career of Gato Barbieri-the Argentine soccer player-turned Latin-jazz sensation-at the dimly-lit Regattabar at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge Thursday night. At this second of his six performances last week, attendance was low.Distinguishing between sight and sound, however, was a relatively easy task that night, especially for the near-blind musician. The music was not only exceptionally performed, but also had a soul that resounded strongly.

Arriving in commemoration of the 35th anniversary of his Grammy Award-winning score to Last Tango in Paris-which according to the concert's program was credited to have "catapulted him from well-known jazz musician to the realm of international celebrity"-Barbieri also came as a celebration of more than 50 albums ranging from jazz to various world genres.

With such style and presence evident, his performance was no less of a testament to his artistic stature. With his four-piece band-which included a percussionist, bassist, drummer and keyboardist-Barbieri produced a stellar set combining South American rhythms (emitted by the congas and unique piano melodies) with the passion and style first embodied by the great jazz legends but adopted as his own. Needless to say, the modest crowd of about 60 never failed to show their appreciation.

Barbieri's age, however, seemed to cripple his otherwise vigorous performance. The 72-year-old decided to sit down to play the conclusion of his first song. He occasionally interrupted his 76-minute set as if to introduce a song, instead pausing and then proceeding.

Nonetheless, his powerful performance and symbiotic dynamic with his group decidedly overshadowed the audience's ambiguous reception. But his saxophone playing reigned supreme, gliding among the other instruments' currents and presenting not only more power, but a sense of antiquity and wisdom.

Closing my eyes, I heard a distinct sound-Jazz in the traditional sense, perhaps, but inflected with congas and scattered Spanish choruses.

Scattered randomly throughout the evening's pieces, Barbieri's signature call of "Hey, hey" not only pointed to his distinct voice, but also harkened to his eccentricity, experience and accomplished career.

Ending his concert with a decrescendo and an almost unnoticeable finale and refusing to appear for an encore, Barbieri recognized the absence of a proper audience reception. It was a shame-his powerful presence surely deserved a sold out venue.

Interview with Gato Barbieri

justArts: How did you decide to become a musician?

Gato Barbieri: I was an incredible soccer player, and I played soccer, and I had [an uncle who] played tenor sax and was very beautiful. It was so difficult to have records in 1978, with the revolution, and with all the records. I listened to Dizzie Gillespie, Thelonious Monk and everything opened up for me and was so beautiful. So I said, "Do I want to be a soccer player or a musician?" and I said, "musician."

I lived in a city 300 kilometers from Buenos Aires and we were very poor there and my brother played in Buenos Aires and tried to make some money so we moved. We never had cold water, no gas or anything. It was very tough but I loved my mom because for me music is a mystery. One day I think it comes and the next day I do it differently. I talk now because I want to give some idea, but after, when we lived in Europe for 10 years, we only had $50. We had a friend who was friends with Bernardo Bertolucci and we [worked on films] with him and with [the Italian writer Pier Paolo] Pasolini. Now I am practically blind, so to make music I make something, then I make a chord. Bars have to have some idea, not just solos. What I play is like when you play soccer and basketball, the ball is rolling and it's not that I stay with this ball for five minutes.

JA: What drew you to jazz?

GB: I don't play jazz, I play a combination of Latin and jazz but [the music is] written here. Here they think [Latin music comes only from] Cuba. The most beautiful music for me is the Brazilian. They don't change and they always want to play. I made music from India and I picked up the Indian harp, which is a different type of guitar and when they were together, [audiences] thought "my goodness." But slowly I started to play and [audiences] liked it. That was my best album, I think. I wanted to make a tour of South America with Chico Farez and there I did Latin [music] but my music floats between everything. I did one tune called "Life and Death" and this I did when I was almost blind. This was because many people go out to drink and one of them dies and the tune becomes very dramatic. Sometimes, it is playing to people. After my surgery, I made a tune that had the name of ["New York"] so now I changed because it is strange that I put this name. But now, music is chaotic, obviously, because what happened there was a disaster and so many died, and when I play it is almost like what happened. This is because I use film and music together.