Archives for February 2012

MARSALIS AND CALDERAZZO

Parts of Brandford Marsalis’s and Joey Calderazzo’s Sunday concert of saxophone-piano duets suggested the atmosphere of a 19th century recital somewhere in middle Europe. The beauty of Calderazzo’s “La Valse Kendall,” Marsalis’s “The Bard Lachrymose” and the short “Die Trauernde” of Brahms encouraged quiet reflection. These are jazz musicians, however—two of the most adventuresome—and a complete afternoon of stately salon music wasn’t in the cards. The impression they left the capacity crowd in Portland’s Newmark Theater was of good friends enjoying the rewards and risks of spontaneous creation.

Some of the music was from their 2011 album Songs Of Mirth And Melancholy. Calderazzo’s “Bri’s Dance” was, among other things, a reminder of the richness of Marsalis’s soprano sax tone, which is wide and nearly without vibrato. It was also an occasion for Calderazzo to unleash the Bach in his left hand and lead into a round of give-and-take exchanges with Marsalis that gained in both rhythm and precision as the action unfolded. Their performance of “Eternal” was at least as long as the 18-minute one on the 2003 Marsalis quartet album of that name and gave, if anything, an even more intimate tug on the emotions. Calderazzo’s loping 16-bar composition “One Way” has the character of something Sonny Rollins might have thought of in his “Way Out West” days. Marsalis’s tenor playing on it had that playful spirit

In a decidedly non-middle-European interpretation of Frank Loesser’s “I’ve Never Been in Love Before,” Marsalis took a tenor saxophone side trip through a quote from Ellington’s “Rockin’ in Rhythm.” Whether it was a convolution in the quote or something else that initiated a skipped beat, they collided in an oops moment that caused them to laugh as they suspended motion for a split second to put the time back in place. A tag ending led Marsalis into a repeated phrase that worked into a bit of “Jumping With Symphony Sid.” When the bout ended, both men seemed amused. Soloing in an earlier, unannounced, piece, Calderazzo’s left hand toyed with variations on stride patterns while his right fooled around with boldly reharmonized suggestions of “Cheek to Cheek,” bringing a wry smile from Marsalis.

Introducing his composition “Hope” as their encore, Calderazzo said that since the death of tenor saxophonist Michael Brecker in 2007, “Branford is the only one I want to hear do this.” On soprano sax, Marsalis alternately soared and subsided into quietness that had the audience holding its breath until the last long note died away.

BRUBECK INSTITUTE JAZZ QUINTET

The Brubeck Institute of the University of the Pacific in Stockton, California, sent a contingent to Portland. Simon Rowe, the institute’s new director, was in charge, but the front men were the current edition of the institute’s quintet. From the Marsalis-Calderazzo concert I hurried a few blocks to Portland State University’s Lincoln Hall to hear them. When I arrived, they were in the midst of free playing that seemed to have the odd mixture of wildness and self discipline required to make unstructured music succeed and—important point—they were having a good time. More important point—so was the audience. Audiences don’t, always, when they are listening to free jazz. I wanted to hear what made San Francisco Chronicle critic Jesse Hamlin describe this student group as “sensational” after they played a few days ago at a concert in memory of San Francisco drummer Eddie Marshall.

When they tackled “Blue Rondo a la Turk,” I got an idea about what excited Hamlin. Dave Brubeck’s famous 1959 tune is in 9/8, a time signature that used to make grown men cry but is now part of the water that young jazz players swim in. They took it fast and negotiated the complicated ensembles without a flaw. When the piece made transitions to 4/4/ time for solos, everyone improvised well, even daringly. I could quibble that in the heat of the moment a soloist or two packed in an oversupply of notes, but that is not a temptation unique to young players. Soloists of all ages and levels of experience succumb to it. Each musician stretched himself in a piece that in its blowing sections, after all, is just a good old blues in F. There was some outrageous and enthusiastic chance-taking. As far as I could hear, it all worked. It was their final number. I would like to have heard more, but based on the evidence of one performance of “Blue Rondo,” indications are that the Brubeck Institute Jazz Quintet is worthy of their namesake. You may care to take note of who they are on the likelihood that you’ll come across their names again: Alec Watson, piano; Tree Palmedo, trumpet; Bill Vonderhaar, bass; Rane Roatta, tenor saxophone; and Malachi Whitson, drums.

Listening to those young investments in the future of music was a fine way to end a good five days at the Portland Jazz Festival.

TIRTHA

In music, as in much else, Portland welcomes the eclectic and the exotic. Saturday, the ninth day of the Portland Jazz Festival gave listeners much to welcome at the Crystal ballroom. In that bastion of eclecticism on the edge of the Pearl District, Vijay Iyer, an American pianist of Indian heritage, joined with Prasanna, a South Indian guitarist, and Nitin Mitta, a tabla player whose background is in classical music of North India. They call their group Tirtha, which translates as “feeling.” Many of the pieces they played were from the 2011 album of that name. The record brought additional attention to Iyer, who was already being heralded as a rising star of his instrument.

Iyer, Prasanna and Mitta do not fuse jazz and Indian elements—a la John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra or his later band called Shakti—so much as intertwine and transform them. Perhaps the presence of the piano is what makes the difference, but I rather suspect it’s the fact that Iyer is the one playing it. When Prassana was developing a sitar-like solo, Iyer and Mitta were likely to be churning complex contrapuntal lines beneath him. Prasanna and Mitta did the same for Iyer. Not infrequently, the three improvised collectively, listening closely to one another and reacting to the subtlest changes. The piano is a percussion instrument, and Iyer frequently used it as if it were an extension of Mitta’s tabla, echoing or amplifying the drummer’s patterns. During Iyer’s piece “Falsehood” when he played a passage that evoked a “Maiden Voyage’ mysticism, Mitta responded with 32nd-note ripples across the surfaces of his drums, emulating melody.

The music had the feel of jazz, including riffs, bebop phrasing over bluesy chords or classical Hindustani drones, and humor. By their appearance, many in the audience looked as if they had first-hand knowledge of Indian music. Prasanna grinned slightly as he injected an unlikely quote from “My Favorite Things” into a solo that had much of the character of a raga. Deadly serious about what they were hearing, no listeners I could see betrayed even the trace of a smile. Perhaps puzzled by all those somber visages, after one piece Iyer said to the crowd, “This is American music.” It is. That does not mean that it is not also Indian music. It is music.

FRISELL

Bill Frisell’s second main stage concert of the festival began with a solo recital. Introducing his fellow instrumentalist, Portland guitar hero Dan Balmer stressed that Frisell’s originality equals his technical ability and his appeal. Frisell demonstrated. He employed the controls at his feet to set up a continuous overtone as the background for a folksy melody with chordal movement suggestive of “Amazing Grace.” As the overtone faded after a few minutes, Frisell introduced dissonance. By the time he ended the piece, it had grown in harmonic interest and structural complexity without losing the simple charm he gave it at the start. It was a microcosm of the Frisell modus operandi.

In the course of the unaccompanied set, Frisell explored variations on “I Got Rhythm” and two pieces by Thelonious Monk, “Epistrophy” and “Crepuscule With Nellie.” He announced the names of none of the selections. He played a song that swung from phrase to phrase like country gospel; one that ended with a cascade of sparkling notes; one marinated in pedal tones; and a piece that suggested a full orchestra complete with counterpoint across horn and string sections. Frisell’s stage persona is quiet and shy, but he wears red slippers, and socks with bold horizontal stripes.

Back for the second set, Frisell said, “I feel safe now because I have my friends with me.” The friends were his colleagues in the 358 Quartet, cellist Hank Roberts, violist Eyvind Kang and violinist Jennie Scheinman. They played music from the album Sign Of Life, beginning with “It’s a Long Story.” The piece, with its phrase from the sea shanty “Blow The Man Down,” established the folk-like character that underlay much of the music and is deceptive. This is contemporary chamber music rich in classical influences. Those influences include minimalism found in composers like Steve Reich, Arvo Pärt and John Adams.

The music is also jazz. “Old Times” morphed from something akin to a hoedown into a blues tag ending, then into what sounded like free playing, though at that point the quartet was reading. In another piece (again, no title announcements), Frisell, Scheinman and Kang set up an irresistible groove under, in and around a Roberts pizzicato solo that gained force as the ensemble dug in. Winding down, Kang’s viola gave a whiff of the Scottish highlands. He and Scheinman both soloed spectacularly during the course of the set. With this music, it’s best not to look for labels. One of the striking aspects of the group is the fullness of the ensemble sound. It is electronically assisted, however subtly, by Frisell’s amplified guitar, but much of the power comes from the swing he implies in his accompaniments.

Following a standing ovation (the Portland festival audience does not restrain its enthusiasm), Frisell and the 358s paid tribute to John Lennon with a medley of “Strawberry Fields” and “All We Are Saying.” Its highlights were a funky Frisell sequence employing guitar distortion and considerable quartet volume that tailed off into quietness, leaving a hush before the theater broke out in applause and cheers.

PORTLAND JAZZ QUINTET

In one of the festival’s sidebar events, the Portland Jazz Quintet appeared at Ivories Jazz Lounge. Led by trumpeter Dick Titterington, the band formerly known as PDXV (I miss that name) has become increasingly impressive. Its repertoire contains pieces written by band members and arrangements of others by mainstream pioneers including Joe Henderson, Nat Adderley, Kenny Dorham and Harold Land. I arrived in time to hear the final set by Titterington, saxophonist Rob Davis, pianist Greg Goebel, drummer Todd Strait and bassist Scott Steed subbing for Dave Captein. They tackled John Scofield’s “Dance Me Home,” Adderley’s “Work Song” and “Dat Dere,” and two by Goebel, “Sunny in Berlin” and “Three For Insurance.” Titterington was impressive in his feature of the set, “Red Giant,” Dick Oatts’ tribute to the late Red Rodney. They closed with Henderson’s “Our Thing,” the demanding line executed at top speed, the ensemble precision typical of this band, the solos satisfying. The PJQ is dedicated to hard bop and does it extremely well. For a Rifftides review of a previous, collaborative, venture by the band, go here.

Events are packed tightly, often simultaneously, in the schedule of the Portland Jazz Festival. If a listener selects one performance, others—sometimes several—must go by the wayside. Missing Roy Haynes did not seem an option.

Three weeks short of his 87th birthday, on Friday evening the drummer played, danced, kibitzed and kidded with his Fountain Of Youth band. Even friskier and fuller of wry fun than usual, Haynes played the leader as MC. At the Newmark Theater, he engaged the audience in banter and conducted mock interviews with the members of his quartet, snatching the microphone away when they attempted to answer. He roamed around periphery of his drum set, giving it strategically placed whacks, thumps and heel kicks. He tap-danced. He made sure that we admired the scarlet lining of his impeccably tailored jacket.

The fun and games did not distract Haynes from the main order of business, which was to play in the way that has put several generations of drummers in awe of his time and technique. Decades ago, someone described his style as Snap, Crackle and Pop. The description stands. Before the music got underway, Haynes asked what people wanted to hear. Someone asked for Thelonious Monk’s “Green Chimneys.” Pianist Martin Bejerano pieced out the quirky line, bassist John Sullivan and Haynes joining in the experimentation until the novelty wore off and Haynes launched the quartet into a piece that sounded as if it might have been based on a phrase from “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Then, alto saxophonist Jaleel Shaw played a long unaccompanied cadenza that became an an introduction to Rodgers and Hart’s “My Romance.” Shaw (pictured with Haynes) caressed the song slowly and it infused with intimations of Cannonball Adderley and Sonny Stitt. A crystalline solo by Bejerano and a powerful Sullivan bass solo sustained the mood.

The first of several virtuoso Haynes solos began with a soft, steady bass drum pulse. Several minutes of the pulse went by before he initiated mallet strikes that grew into a polyrhythmic flurry, then a storm that subsided slowly. “I bet I can’t do that again,” he told the audience. He left the drums to confer with his sidemen. Agreement reached, heads nodded, he returned to the set to give a rocket launch to John Lewis’s “Milestones.” Shaw (pictured with Haynes), exuberant, worked into his solo a succession of bebop quotes without being clichéd about it. Sullivan’s selection of firmly intoned bass notes and his solid time had much to do with the success of the performance. In a long exchange of eight-bar phrases between Shaw and Bejerano, Haynes inserted accents by way of snaps, pop, crackles and cymbal splashes, while intensifying the smooth flow of the time, at top speed. Haynes took a break to play a game with the microphone, tapping it on his chest and saying, “My heart has a beat…my heart has a beat…my heart has a beat,” then, to Shaw, “My heart has a beat. Is that all reet?”

“James,” a piece by Haynes’s collaborator Pat Metheny, appeared and reappeared through the rest of the set, subsiding to resurface several times and take over what seemed to be other themes. Along the way, Haynes produced prodigious solos. After he dropped a stick, he walked around the set to retrieve it and used the occasion to contrive a solo using the stick on everything he came near, including the floor and the microphone stand. It was one more instance of his easy adaptability and insistence on living in the moment. Back on his stool, he soloed using mallets, switched to sticks and doubled the time, grinning.

Given a standing ovation, the band returned for an encore with Haynes poppa-de-popping away under Shaw, who was impressive on soprano saxophone. Shaw incorporated a passage with liquid movement and intensity reminiscent of Sidney Bechet that worked fine in the post-bop setting. Whatever the piece was when they started, it soon became “James.”

SHORT TAKES

A midnight jam session at the Mission Theater started promisingly with pianist Ezra Weiss, bassist Tom Wakeling and drummer Alan Jones, stalwarts of the Portland jazz community. Guitarist Matt Shiff sat in impressively, as did Todd Strait, a busy drummer this week what with his work in Chuck Israels’ and Dick Titterington’s bands as well as participation in jam sessions. Shortly before I left, things began to unravel a bit as sitters-in materialized. I got a sense of the drift when Weiss asked if there drummers in the house. A boy who looked 16 but may have been older volunteered, “I play drums, but not jazz drums.” Evidently impressed with his honesty, Weiss nonetheless said, “Uh, I think we’ll hold out for someone who plays jazz drums.” I was hoping he’d give the kid a shot.

Whether for a jam session or not, if you are ever in Portland, the Mission Theater is worth a visit. Built in 1891, it has had a life as a church, a Longshoremens Union hall, headquarters of an acting company and now a theater pub. The building’s architecture inside and out evokes old Portland, and the acoustics are superb.

Earlier in the evening at the Crystal Ballroom, I caught much of the first set of guitarist Bill Frisell’s concert of the music of John Lennon, Speedy West and Jimmy Bryant. Frisell accompanied by Greg Leisz on steel guitar, Tony Scherr on bass and longtime Frisell sidekick drummer Kenny Wollesen, played western swing to a ballroom floor jammed with listeners. The music would have been perfect for cheek-to-cheek roadhouse dancing, if only the people had been able to move. Frisell loves that kind of music and plays it with as much soulful feeling as West and Bryant ever did. The Crystal, another historic landmark, is a magnificent space whose walls feature big terra cotta medallions depicting the history of the performing arts. I didn’t hear The Lennon portion of Frisell”s program, but there would be another opportunity. We’ll have a Rifftides report on that later.

More than two decades ago in Paris, Dee Dee Bridgewater began to make Billie Holiday’s music and mystique a part of herself. In the years since, she has expanded, refined and intensified her Holiday role while firmly establishing her own persona. Bridgewater’s tribute to Lady Day filled the Newmark Theater in downtown Portland last night. She demonstrated to the Portland Jazz Fesival audience that she is capable of an uncanny Holiday impression. She briefly employed it to comic effect as a way of emphasizing that imitation is not the point of her Holiday vehicle; music is.

Bridgewater’s musical skills went hand in hand with her ability as a superb actress. She used pieces from Holiday’s repertoire as points of departure to create distinctive jazz interpretations. The songs—well more than a dozen—included “Them There Eyes” taken fast and so laced with energy that it skirted the edge of mania; an amusing revival of Holiday’s first recording with Benny Goodman, “My Mother’s Son In Law,” and a “Strange Fruit” whose message she delivered with anguish so profound that it that sent a chill through the crowd. Pointedly, the house announcer introduced the evening as a performance by the Dee Dee Bridgewater Quintet. The group label is apt. She is the lead instrument in the band, which has all the interaction of a finely attuned bop group, with the sidemen enlisted in just enough schtick to help warrant calling the event a show. Bridgewater is pictured here with bassist Kenny Davis, whom she featured on several pieces, as she did tenor saxophonist Jimmy Greene, drummer Kenny Phelps and her long time musical director, pianist Edsel Gomez. They all soloed extensively and well

For all her acting, which is natural and unforced, the primary impression Bridgewater creates is of a jazz vocalist with unerring time and intonation who gets to the heart of a song. Following a standing ovation, she returned to the stage to sing a non-Holiday song, “Amazing Grace,” alone. On the final chorus, she invited the audience to sing along, but she gave it so much power and feeling that few had the temerity to join in.

A sizeable number of concertgoers circled down the winding stairway of the Portland Center for the Performing Arts to the Art Bar. The space has a bar, a restaurant and a three-story ceiling crowned with a sculptured dome that is itself a work of art. There, two hometown favorites who are also international successes appeared in one of their collaborations. For their duo gigs, it is Dave Frishberg’s policy to serve only as pianist with Rebecca Kilgore, not as a singer of his own famous songs. During the course of their two long, satisfying sets, someone on the margins of the room called for “Peel Me a Grape.” “Don’t know it,” Kilgore said. Frishberg gazed at the ceiling.

She knew plenty of other songs, many of them from albums the pair have made together. Someone—I think it was I—commented that people who attended the upstairs and the downstairs events had the pleasure of hearing in one evening two jazz vocalists who sing all but unfailingly in tune. At one point there was a missed harmonic signal. Kilgore veered slightly, but her sonar immediately locked her back onto the path. The repertoire included a few songs from Why Fight The Feeling, their album of Frank Loesser songs, among them “The Lady’s in Love With You” and “Can”t Get Out of This Mood,” the latter sung with languor that Kilgore seems to employ more frequently these days in her ballads. However, she has lost none of the sunny feeling she brings to up-tempo pieces. A spontaneous medley of “It’s Only a Paper Moon” and “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea” was saturated with it.

Frishberg is often thought of as a pianist primarily influenced by stride and traditional players, but the internal rhythms he creates in his solos can hint at bebop and sometimes enter it outright. That was true in his solo last night on “Lover Come Back to Me” and in the following piece, with a complex chorus he built on Artie Shaw’s “Moon Ray.” In “My Heart Belongs to Daddy,” he briefly led Kilgore into tango territory. They took “There’s No Business Like Show Business” slow, giving it a plaintive quality that probably never occurred to Ethel Merman. Finally, Kilgore and Frishberg performed “What a Little Moonlight Can Do,” giving a nice Billiie Holiday symmetry to the evening that had begun hours before in the Newmark.

Tomorrow, the Rifftides staff is headed south, then west through the magnificent Columbia River Gorge to Portland, Oregon, one of my favorite former hometowns. The occasion is the Portland Jazz Festival. As usual, PDX Jazz is packed with far more music than anyone can take in. I will try to choose carefully and carve out enough time to blog about some of what I hear. My preliminary list includes Roy Haynes, Bill Frisell, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Chuck Israels and Vijay Iyer, among others. It appears that I may be on the radio with Lynn Darroch. If so, I’ll provide time and coordinates.

This wraps up discussion of the albums I voted for in the 2011 Rhapsody critics poll.

The Complete 1932-40 Brunswick, Columbia and Master Recordings of Duke Ellington And His Famous Orchestra (Mosaic)

This magnificently produced and remastered set of 11 CDs covers the Ellington era from roughly the end of his Cotton Club years to the beginning of what has come to be called the Blanton-Webster band.

As Steven Lasker notes at the end of his invaluable essay for this set, Duke Ellington’s 1940-41 band is “widely considered to be the greatest orchestra in jazz history.” Listeners should ignore any inclination to take that assessment as encouragement to dismiss what came before. The last tracks in this magnificently produced and remastered box of 11 CDs encompass the beginning of the Ellington edition later named informally for the advent of bassist Jimmie Blanton and tenor saxophonist Ben Webster. The set covers the Ellington era from roughly the end of his Cotton Club years to the earliest four pieces recorded by the Blanton-Webster band on February 14, 1940.

The sophistication, complexity and subtlety in Ellington’s work were to become more advanced, but they were well established in the 1920s and finely honed by 1932. To single out a few of the earlier tracks, we hear all of those maker’s marks in “Lazy Rhapsody,” “Blue Tune,” “It Don’t Mean A Thing if it Ain’t Got That Swing” and the celebrated collaboration with Bing Crosby on “St Louis Blues.” Ellington’s writing supported soloists so integrated into the band that they and the Ellington ethos became inseparable. Johnny Hodges, Harry Carney, Barney Bigard, Joe Nanton Cootie Williams, Ivie Anderson, Arthur Whetsel and the others were on a voyage of discovery with Ellington through the 1930s. His hit recordings brought Ellington wide acceptance without the band’s locking into predictable patterns of sound or style. “In A Sentimental Mood,” “Sophisticated Lady,” “Caravan,” “Prelude To A Kiss” helped bring the orchestra fame, but the public also accepted the innovations in “Black Butterfly,” “Boy Meets Horn,” the merry agitation of “Harlem Speaks” and the daring four-part “Reminiscing In Tempo.”

Many reissue projects suffer from their comprehensiveness, presenting a succession of three-minute recordings that were conceived as 78 rpm singles to be heard a side or two at time. That is not a problem with this Ellington set. There is remarkable variety in these 12 hours of music, and alternate takes are wisely saved for the ends of discs rather than following the master takes.

In addition to writing the notes, Steven Lasker, with Scott Wenzel, produced the reissue and did the restoration that presents this music from seven decades ago in sound that is bright and fresh. It has details that have gone unheard in previous reissues. Lasker has won awards for this kind of work. He deserves another one.

Is this essential Ellington? It is, if you think Ellington is essential.

Today is Presidents Day in the United States. It falls between the birthdays of two of our greatest presidents, Abraham Lincoln (February 12) and George Washington (February 22). Many years ago, there was a movement in the Congress to consolidate the two observances into one holiday that would honor all US presidents. The effort never resulted in an official national holiday, but department stores and automobile dealerships liked the idea so much that they declared it a holiday and celebrate it by having huge sales to increase their profits and buy advertising that results in Sunday newspapers weighing five pounds. To read the confused history of Presidents Day, go here.

Among jazz blogs and websites, it has become a cliché to take advantage of Presidents Day as a reason to mention Lester Young. Clichés get to be clichés because they strike a chord and are repeated so often that they become a part of the collective consciousness. When Billie Holiday declared that Lester Young was the president of the tenor saxophonists, she planted the seed of a cliché that I am happy to perpetuate. Ladies and gentlemen—on Presidents Day we present Lester Young in one of his greatest recordings. This was 1943. Prez with Johnny Guarnieri, Slam Stewart and Sid Catlett.

Oscar Peterson liked Young’s final eight bars so much that he incorporated it whenever he played “Sometimes I’m Happy,” as in this long version.

Jack Brownlow, who played piano with Lester in the 1940s, wrote a lyric for that ending.

I can find a ray
On the rainiest day.
If I am with you,
The cloudy skies all turn to blue.
My disposition really changes when you’re near.
Every day’s a happy day with you, my dear.
(©Jack Brownlow)

Happy Presidents Day.

Toward evening yesterday, we heard a raucous disturbance among the flock of blue jays occupying a blue spruce at the edge of the yard. We looked out to find the jays dive bombing a row of arbor vitae. About halfway up one of the shrubs was what we later concluded was a western screech owl. It wasn’t screeching, just peering out of its refuge looking unconcerned and, of course, wise. Owls are so infrequent in our neighborhood that I took a picture through the window with an inadequate point-and-shoot camera. Digitally enlarged, the section of the photo with the owl in the bush took on a sort of pointillist character. Posting this, I considered finding appropriate music to go with it: “Owl Be Seeing You” or “Owl Be Around,” perhaps. But that would be unforgivably corny, wouldn’t it?

Correspondence

Rifftides reader George McCord writes:

..I was wondering..I read that Brubeck put in a contract that whilst Desmond was playing with the group he could not record with another piano player…I find that hard to believe..

Brubeck and Desmond had no written contract. They had a handshake agreement throughout the life of the quartet. As a practical matter, they concluded that if Desmond recorded with another pianist, it would confuse matters. After the quartet disbanded, Desmond recorded with other pianists, including Herbie Hancock, Bob James, Roland Hanna and Kenny Barron.

 

Sympathetic Reaction

This is one of the anecdotes in the current edition of Bill Crow’s The Band Room column in Allegro, the New York American Federation of Musicians Local 802 newspaper.

Tim Wendt used to sub on Bill Holman’s band in Los Angeles. Bill rehearsed at the Local 47 union hall every Thursday. At one rehearsal, jut before counting off the first tune, Bill announced that the band would be taking a few weeks off. “I was at my doctor yesterday for an exam, and I need to get a pacemaker installed because, apparently my heart occasionally skips a beat.”

Pete Christlieb quickly said, “Gee, that’s too bad. Well, guys, let’s play. Ready? Here we go…One, two, FOUR!”

Tim says they couldn’t play for the next ten minutes.

This month, Bill includes a remembrance of his friend Bob Brookmeyer. To read the entire column, go here, click on “Allegro,” and scroll down.

 

Brookmeyer Service

We have had inquiries about memorial services for Brookmeyer. His friend and colleague Bill Kirchner is making arrangements and sent this announcement.

As many of you know, valve trombonist/composer/arranger Bob Brookmeyer died on December 15, 2011, four days short of his 82nd birthday.
A memorial will be held at St. Peter’s Lutheran Church (E. 54th St. between 3rd and Lexington Avenues) in New York City on Wednesday, April 11, from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. A reception will follow immediately afterward at the church.

That evening, Bob’s music will be played by the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra (for which he wrote for over 40 years) and a couple of small groups. There will also be a number of distinguished speakers.

I’m the coordinator of this event, so any inquiries can be directed to me: kirch@mindspring.com

 

Weekend Listening Tip From Jim Wilke

Thomas Marriott Quartet on Jazz Northwest, Sunday, February 19. (1 PM on 88.5 KPLU)

Seattle trumpet player and band leader Thomas Marriott has established an international reputation, toured widely, played on dozens of albums and led seven of his own. Several of his Origin CDs have landed in top ten lists and are played by radio stations across the US. His hometown appearances are always popular, too, and this Sunday at 1 PM PST on Jazz Northwest (88.5 KPLU) his quartet can be heard in a performance recorded at Tula’s in Seattle last week.

Joining Thomas Marriott on this program are Bill Anschell, piano, Jeff Johnson, bass and John Bishop on drums. They play three originals composed by Thomas as well as two standards in this performance in front of a capacity audience at Tula’s in Seattle.

Jazz Northwest is recorded and produced by Jim Wilke exclusively for 88.5 KPLU. The program airs each Sunday at 1 PM and is available as a podcast from kplu.org.

 

Kolakowski’s Chopin Scherzo Is No Joke

The bright young Polish pianist Mateusz Kolakowski is as devoted to Chopin as he is to jazz. He demonstrates in this performance combining his two loves.

 

Holiday And Basie

There is little film of Count Basie and Billie Holiday together. Here they are in 1950, Basie’s sextet days.

 

Have a good weekend

In the right column under Doug’s Picks, (and, for a time, directly below) please find recommendations of CDs by a trumpeter-arranger, an uncategorizable singer and a drummer who composes and plays piano. We also call your attention to a DVD meant to instruct—it certainly does that—and ends up entertaining. A new book pick will be along soon.

Psst, hey Bud, c’mere a minute. Wanna play like Tom Harrell? (that’s my Sheldon Leonard impression). All you gotta do is practice, then you’ll be able to play the blues in all 12 keys without missing a beat. (It helps to have a pianist who can play the blues in all 12 keys.)

Then you’ll sound like this:

Well, maybe not exactly like that.

Harrell was assisted by Jamie Aebersold, who in his mercantile life runs a play-along empire. Thanks to Angela Harrell for letting us know about that clip.

In 1981, Art Pepper sat in with Jimmy Witherspoon at The Lighthouse in Hermosa Beach, California. Their acquaintance went back to the early 1950s when the Central Avenue jazz scene in Los Angeles was thriving.

Pepper died the following year at the age of 56, Witherspoon in 1997 at 77.

This nearly completes reviews of albums I voted for in the Rhapsody jazz critics poll as 2011’s best.

The Tierney Sutton Band, American Road (BFM)

Sutton and her band apply their musicianship, intensity and camaraderie to a dozen American songs. The pieces range across traditional music (“Oh Shenandoah/The Water is Wide,” “Wayfaring Stranger,” “Amazing Grace”); pop (“On Broadway,” “Tenderly”); songs from the theater (four by Bernstein, three by Gershwin, one by Arlen); and patriotism (“America the Beautiful”). In a duet with pianist Christian Jacob, Sutton applies delicacy to “Tenderly.” She finds just the right notes of dreamy hope in “Somewhere.” With the quartet in “My Man’s Gone Now,” following a Jacob solo that builds tension and drama, she chisels a chilling portrait of pain and despair.

A solo by Kevin Axt or Trey Henry sets up “Amazing Grace”— both bassists are on the album but not identified song by song. After one chorus from Sutton, drummer Ray Brinker’s emphatic strokes change the mood for Jacob’s solo. By the time Sutton reenters, there is an air of minor-key mystery that builds to uncertainty before she and the bass, in unison, resolve to an ending of ghostly peace. Those of us who believe that “America The Beautiful” should be the national anthem will find reinforcement in the purity of Sutton’s and Jacob’s closing duet. Sutton includes a bonus in “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” a quick biology lesson (whales aren’t fish, they’re mammals).

As I have noted more than once, these five people are not a singer and a rhythm section. They are a band. There is a lot happening in their latest collection. It has beauty, simplicity and complexity in equal measure. It deserves close listening—and rewards it.

Next time: A massive box of good old Duke Ellington, and we’ll move out of the poll business, maybe once and for all. But I’ve threatened that before.