The duo's first set journeyed to a lofty plane. Lateef opened with a series of mournful tones from one of several exotic instruments arrayed on his side of the stage. In addition to piano, tenor saxophone and flutes, Yusef played a shenai, an assortment of resonating bowls and small temple bells, and several wind instruments I could not identify. Rudolph started out with slow, quiet accents on gourds and a bit of vocalizing, before launching into a powerful box-drum solo that set off Lateef's blares, duck-calls, and wails.

Having thus set certain expectations, Lateef surprised everyone with a beautifully bluesy solo rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In." Seated at the piano, his slow vocals coming out as a soulful croak, Lateef segued gently into a devotional poem that soon grew feverishly hot. The poem's insistent lines about the human heart resonated eerily with Rudolph's pulsing rhythms.

The set ended on an optimistic note, with Rudolph creating a lovely shifting bassline on what appeared to be a bolon (a West African stringed instrument of the kora family), and Lateef singing in what sounded like an African language. That uncertainty underscores the entire point of Lateef's globetrotting approach: it doesn't matter what the instruments are, what the language is, or what the rhythm is called, because it all comes from the spirit. Lateef and Rudolph create true "world music"—music for all humanity, with no regard whatsoever for borders, categories, genres, or expectations.

That said, the second set brought the proceedings out of the clouds and into a decidedly earthier element. A fifteen-minute whirlwind of plaintive cries and blazing congas gave way to funky, lilting solos for Lateef's piano and flute, eventually settling into a blues standard, "Trouble in Mind." The tenor sax made a return appearance for a gritty urban groove followed by a playful vocal about the sound of Rudolph's drums, but the set took a serious turn at the end. Rudolph moved to the piano as Lateef's bass flute sketched a rather bleak Middle Eastern scene, which slowly faded away with somber bell tones.

One encore number was coaxed from the duo: a folksy traveling song for wood flute and thumb piano, then piano and didgeridoo. As his mysterious chanting vocal resolved into a crying spiritual, with a plea that the 82-year-old Lateef be permitted to "just make it to the other side," the poignancy of a master artist in the autumn of his years was driven home.

ARRIALE SWINGS THE LEGION

Lynne Arriale's trio overcame a rough start on November 2, crafting two entertaining sets at the Palace of the Legion of Honor. The matinee show was part of a "Chamber Piano" weekend at the SF Jazz Festival.

The concert was held in the Legion's cozy Florence Gould Theatre, which intrepid festival patrons could only reach after wading through an ocean of art lovers checking out the museum's new Egyptian exhibit. SFJAZZ often reserves this particular venue for solo piano recitals, and the reason was soon obvious. The round room's acoustics are famously clear, but fragile. When the trio kicked into a lively bop number to start the show, Steve Davis' rolling, expressive drumming overwhelmed the room. But things settled down afterward, and while the drums never entirely fit the space, Davis' restraint on subsequent numbers saved the performance.

Arriale offered the multigenerational crowd a blend of originals, standards, and pop songs. The latter ranged from the Beatles' "Blackbird," which is quickly becoming a standard itself, to the Guess Who's classic-rock anthem, "American Woman." Throughout, Arriale's playing was elegant and economical, using simple lines and a minimum of frills to achieve maximum emotional punch.

Although her reinterpretations of familiar melodies were intriguing, and her climbing and plunging solo on "Alone Together" had marvelous energy, Arriale was best when playing her own material. "The Fallen," a new piece, was especially powerful as Arriale's sad, almost grief-stricken piano glided through the changes. Another original, "Arise," was the most personal of the day, with an intensely human feeling emerging from Arriale's meditative playing.

Davis got his due at the end of the first set and the start of the second. In his own arrangement of "Seven Steps to Heaven," a roundabout sort of swing led nicely into a bashing drum solo that left the audience in high spirits going into intermission. For "American Woman," Davis carefully built up his solo from discrete chunks, connecting and smoothing them into a seamless whole. Bassist Larry Kohut also made an impact on this tune, with a tricky solo that sounded like it was transcribed from electric guitar. But it was another pop song, "Lean on Me," that really allowed Kohut to shine. His down-home funky solo was fast but absolutely coherent, and really talked to the crowd.

The concert was recorded for National Public Radio's JazzSet program, and all of the 13 tunes were rendered at a brisk, radio-friendly clip. Arriale's growing fan base should be pleased with what they hear.

When Forrest Bryant isn't writing about jazz or reading the box scores, he can be heard on the Bay Area airwaves as the host of a weekly radio show called "No Cover, No Minimum" (on KZSU, 90.1 FM). He also spends too much of his free time looking for things to write about, so if you're a part of the Bay Area jazz scene, drop Forrest a line and let him know what you're up to.