It’s
practically impossible to succinctly review 100 concerts. And there’ve been
nearly that many since we issued last week’s piece on the Rochester
International Jazz Festival’s opening weekend.
For
those who missed out: our sympathy. This year’s RIJF was the best yet in terms
of programming and (despite a few initial snags) overall organization. Over
nine days, from June 10 to June 18, it drew roughly 65,000 people to downtown’s
streets. And that alone is a feat worth praising. Over the last decade in
articles, op-ed columns, and conferences, Rochester’s movers and shakers have
discussed revitalizing downtown, convincing young people to stay in Rochester,
and reinvigorating the local economy. Is there anything that compares to the
RIJF in those three areas? So where is the support of some of the area’s
largest corporations? Where is the strong support of the City of Rochester? Are
we looking a really swinging gift horse in the mouth?
Read
on for our impressions of last week’s shows, and our suggestions for next year.
Last Monday
evening, in the wood-paneled Kilbourn Hall, The
Bad Plus played wonderfully disrespectful and irreverent punk-jazz.
David
King lunges at his drums, beating the hell out of them. He looks and acts like
your evil little brother. Ethan Iverson, dressed in high-nerd fashion with suit
and tie, takes a raucously classical approach to the piano. (He’s the group’s
spokesman and every word drips with irony.) Reid Anderson is literally and
figuratively in the middle on the bass.
They
stand evenly apart, taking up the entire stage like three Frankenstein
monsters. Their approach to their instruments is deeply exploratory. The
secret, of course, is that they have had enough training to be comfortable
discarding it.
On
Tuesday night Chick Corea was joined
at the Eastman Theatre by Touchstone,
his relatively new Spanish-flavored band named for his 1980 album with Paco de
Lucia. Although Corea began and ended the concert on electric piano, he played
the bulk of his tunes on the Eastman Theatre’s Steinway.
Corea
was obviously having a blast on the stage with these four musicians. Carlos
Benavent did double duty on his five-string bass, filling the bottom, but also
playing in the upper register with the freedom of a flamenco guitarist. At
several points, while Benavent played his remarkable solos, the other band
members gathered around him, clapping rhythmically.
Corea
waited until the encore to play his best-known tune. He began with strains of
Rodrigo’s “Concierto de Aranjuez” but, after a few minutes, the tune evolved
into “Spain” and Corea shifted back to the electric keyboard. He led the
audience in a call and response, with every keyboard line sung back
beautifully.
Mamadou
Diabate was one of the festival’s big surprises on Tuesday. One friend coming out of
the early show called it “the music of dreams.” It was breathtaking in its
musical complexity and simple beauty. Diabate plays the kora, a West African
instrument that falls somewhere between guitar, piano, and harp. The music he
played, accompanied by Balla Kouyate on balafon, sounded like a
larger-than-life music box and at one point careened into Muddy Waters Blues.
Diabate was quick to point out that he wasn’t being referential at all; the
blues came from this.
Over
at Milestones, Steve Swell and crew
put to bed once and for all the notion that improv jazz is merely random note
generation. They played with slick precision and synchronicity. Swell and
surprise saxophonist Sabir Mateen, a hero in the underground, dueled from
either side of the stage looking like male elephants in a heated mating ritual.
Kahil
El’Zabar opened the Ethnic Heritage
Ensemble’s Wednesday set at Kilbourn Hall on kalimba, but on just about
every tune he would play a different percussion instrument. His bandmates were
equally active. Young trumpeter Cory Wilkes danced when he wasn’t playing and
soloed so intensely he appeared to be in danger of exploding. Every time Ernest
Dawkins put down his sax, he picked up another instrument to enhance the
texture. The group’s tunes ranged from catchy funk-bebop to avant-garde
screeching and animal noises, all under-girded by an African sensibility.
The
same night at Max of Eastman Place, Cuban pianist Manuel Valera and his excellent band played an energetic set
infused with Latin flavor. On his closing (and finest) tune, “Forma Nueva,”
Valera began his solo slowly and deliberately, gradually building to an
intricate web of notes with his fingers dancing over the keys.
Dave Brubeck was downright
talkative Thursday evening at the Eastman Theatre, telling funny stories about
touring England and, at the end, emotionally thanking the Eastman School of
Music and the late Rayburn Wright for inspiring him to write larger orchestral
works back in 1963.
Brubeck
and his band were superb, playing a couple of blues songs, several standards,
and too few of Brubeck’s own brilliant compositions. The title tune of his
latest album, “London Flat, London Sharp,” is somewhat reminiscent of John
Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” in its fast, complex, and difficult changes. Moving
down in a sequence of flats and up in a series of sharps, it was the most
intriguing tune of the night.
Moutin Reunion filled the
Montage Grille Thursday with some of the hardest driving music of the festival.
No small part of this was due to the symbiotic musical relationship of the
rhythm section, identical twins Louis (bass) and Francois Moutin (drums). But
saxophonist Rick Margitza and pianist Piere de Bethmann also stretched out
beautifully on Louis’ tune “Take it Easy.”
The
Lynn Arriale Trio played an elegant
set at Max’s that night, giving fresh readings to standards like “Alone
Together.” But the highpoint of the show was Arriale’s exquisite performance of
her own wonderful composition, “Braziliana.”
Toward
the beginning of their set at Kilbourn Hall, the Harry Allen-Joe Cohn Quartet played “I’m Old Fashioned.” They were
indeed, and wonderfully so. These young men in suits — with coats buttoned
— played nothing but standards, many of them by Cohn’s father, Al Cohn. Cohn
had his own beautifully fluid style on the guitar, playing flawless legato runs
punctuated by chord inversions. And Allen’s sax playing was so good it recalled
Stan Getz.
One
of the RIJF’s most understated and most beautiful performances was given by Madeleine Peyroux and her just-right
band at the Eastman Theatre on Friday. Peyroux sang almost every song from her
excellent album, Careless Love, but
this was no mere recitation. On each tune she stretched out the lyrics or bent
her notes differently over the chords. Peyroux has learned a lot from Billy
Holiday and Bessie Smith, but she retains her own distinct, emotional,
world-weary sound. Perhaps most beautiful was her performance of Elliot Smith’s
“Between the Bars,” with its palpable sense of desperation.
Headliner
Chris Botti’s trumpet resurrected
Chet Baker until the rest of his band stepped in. Botti blew rich and creamy
for a virtually packed Eastman Theatre, but got relegated to dentist-office
background music with his backing band’s homogenized mush. But hey, he’s real,
real handsome.
Trumpeter
Wallace Roney’s current band
includes a host of electronic keyboards and a turntablist, who added an
intriguing street-corner ambience Friday night at Kilbourn. On the first tune,
“Cyberspace,” Roney and his brother Antoine (saxophone) stepped forward to play
a catchy head and terrific solos. Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” followed
with a haunting, minimal, Miles Davis-like treatment. But the sound was getting
increasingly loud and fans were starting to leave. The soundman and Roney
seemed oblivious to this.
Derek Trucks has the
sweetest guitar tone, bleeding blue all over his band’s jamming sound. Truck,
known for remaining carcass-still on stage while his fleet fingers slide up and
down, was actually tapping his foot while rockin’ out in front of his huge,
devoted, and surprisingly young crowd at the East Avenue Stage.
The
last act of the festival, guitarist John
Scofield, nicely book-ended the first, Bill Frisell. Things really revved
up during his second tune, “Hammock Soliloquy.” Its giant chord head —
plodding like a monster — alternated with a double-time guitar solo filled
with frenzied licks. Scofield and bassist Steve Swallow both played
astoundingly fast and furious solos, but to no avail; every time, the monster
reemerged.
Our
suggestions
Last
year we threw out some recommendations and artistic director John Nugent took
us seriously, booking acts like Juana Molina and the Willem Breuker Kollektief.
So, for what it’s worth, here’s next year’s wish list: Derek Bailey (please!),
George Cables, Animal Collective or Panda Bear (or both), Geri Allen, Trapist,
Bobby Watson, Arnold Dreyblatt, and Don Byron. We’ll stop there and let Nugent
select a few of his own.
This article appears in Jun 22-28, 2005.
