![\"Redmond](\"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/rifftides\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/Redmond-Quartet-Ystad-2014.jpg\")
<\/a> <\/p>\nEbullient, Redman led his troops through three of his compositions and one by pianist Aaron Goldberg before he put his stamp on an American classic. After opening with \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll Go Mine,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Redman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s body language kicked in on \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What We Do.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d For the rest of the concert , his bobbing, weaving and spontaneous knee lifts served as visual counterpoint to the music. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Come What May\u00e2\u20ac\u009d featured a Reuben Rogers bass solo of exceptional harmonic continuity. The rhythmic understanding between Rogers, Goldberg and drummer Gregory Hutchison gives the Redman quartet the buoyancy that was apparent throughout the concert, even on slower pieces. Goldberg opened his \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Shad\u00e2\u20ac\u009d alone in an introduction that was reflective but nonetheless set the atmosphere for the wild waltz-time adventure that developed. <\/p>\n
With canny strategy, following four originals that challenged his listeners, Redman played the unadorned verse and first chorus of \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Stardust,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d one of the purest of all melodies. After that, the crowd was open to a treatment of the piece that sometimes verged on free jazz. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Curlicue,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d a blues with altered harmonies, followed, then \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Stagger Bear.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Redman said the piece was inspired by a dream he had about a drunk Teddy Bear. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t ask,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said. The encore was Dizzy Gillespie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Bebop\u00e2\u20ac\u009d at a pace as fast as—maybe faster than—Gillespie\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s original recording. The young veteran Hutchison dazzled the audience with his solo on \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Bebop,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d indeed, with his solo work throughout the concert.<\/p>\n
Charles Lloyd opened his concert with the quartet playing what sounded like simultaneous improvisation, his beautiful tone floating above the rhythm section. Joe Sanders\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 hefty bass sound and precise attack set up a transition into a blues dominated by Lloyd\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s keening tenor saxophone. When he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t playing, Lloyd moved around the stage, often stationing himself behind pianist Gerald Clayton and listening intently. Like Redman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s, Lloyd\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s body language is an apparently unconscious aspect of his performance. Sometimes, he simply stands, weaving or swaying slightly. He announced the titles of none of the tunes. Lloyd said, in fact, not a word all evening. What I can refer to only as a flute thing in “\u00be found him matching the heat of an exceptionally hot rhythm section. Sanders and young Justin Brown demonstrated the importance of bass-drum relations, obviously playing to and for one another, smiling and nodding in mutual approval. Back on tenor sax, Lloyd played abstractions decorated with Clayton piano interjections. The audience demonstrated its acceptance and approval of Lloyd\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s curiously edgy yet relaxing music with a standing ovation and typical European unison handclaps that rang through the theater for minutes on end. <\/p>\n<\/a> <\/p>\n