David Adler
February 2002

New York @ Night
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By David R. Adler

Electric Bop

Jim Rotondi and David Hazeltine certainly aren’t known as fusion players, but they do have an affinity for the electric music that Herbie Hancock, Freddie Hubbard, and Miles Davis set about creating in the early 70s, on albums like Red Clay and Fat Albert Rotunda. Paying tribute to that classic yet frequently maligned sound, the trumpeter and pianist co-led an electric quintet at Smoke. Hazeltine played Rhodes, the signature instrument of the style, and one that has been enjoying a significant comeback in acoustic jazz. One usually sees Barak Mori, the young Israeli bassist, clad in a suit and clutching an upright in Eric Reed’s band; here he was dressed down and playing an ultra-tight Fender J. Guitarist Greg Skaf and drummer Vincent Ector completed the band, which played Hazeltine’s "period" arrangements of "Love for Sale" and "Out of This World," as well as an epic "Watermelon Man" and a couple of Hazeltine originals. Rotondi doubled on synth; his echo effects on trumpet were a bit much at times, but they were kept to a minimum. There was almost a "garage band" feel to this project: the music was quite polished, but it came across as an off-the-cuff jam among musicians who normally busy themselves with other matters.

Acoustic Bop

A mystery saxophonist was slated to join Peter Bernstein’s trio, with Larry Goldings and Bill Stewart, at Birdland. This fellow turned out to be Joshua Redman, who was a bit under-mixed but strong nonetheless on Bernstein’s "Blues for Bulgaria" and "Jive Coffee," as well as a smoldering "The Thrill Is Gone," Sonny Rollins’s brisk "Why Don’t I," and the trio’s frequent closer, "Milestones" (the "new" one). While this group tends to lean a bit too much on the same old repertoire (perhaps a result of playing out less often), the intricate mesh of Bernstein’s singing lines, Goldings’s clear and unerring harmonic resources, and Stewart’s rhythmic and timbral openness is always engaging.

Free Country

Guitarist Joel Harrison, a recent Bay Area transplant, played Cornelia Street Café with his new group, Free Country. The double- or triple-entendre tidily sums up the unconventional quintet (Rob Thomas on violin, David Binney on alto, Sean Conly on bass, Allison Miller on drums). Harrison’s goal here is to reinvent vintage folk material in an adventurous, free-leaning context. The results range from the calm lyricism of "Tennessee Waltz" to the raucous blowout of Johnny Cash’s "Folsom Prison Blues" to the dancing jams "Sail Away Ladies" and "Will the Circle Be Unbroken." Despite a couple of shaky transitions, the band successfully conveyed Harrison’s fascination and ingenuity with the material. They saved the best for last: a deconstructed "This Land Is Your Land," which Harrison first set up in alternate tuning to simulate a kind of fretless sound. The band came in with a dark, haunting waltz and a round of beautiful solos, including one from Harrison, who generally blends in as an ensemble member rather than strutting out front. Something about these times gives Guthrie’s humble classic a newfound relevance: witness Cassandra Wilson’s spacious rendition at the Town Hall "Made In America" benefit. (A Free Country CD is in the works.)

Double Bill at Merkin

Myra Melford and Marty Ehrlich gave a duo performance at Merkin Hall that was aglow with dynamic subtlety and timbral expanse. Their rapport was beautifully documented on last year’s Yet Can Spring (Arabesque); during this live set they focused primarily on new music, but opened with Ehrlich’s angular yet gracefully melodic "Duiloquy" and his animated "March Fantastique." Melford’s energetic body language conveyed a visible and contagious sense of delight; her harmonic and rhythmic command and her facility with free, ethereal moods and bracing, rigorous single-note work brought Uri Caine to mind. Ehrlich played bass clarinet, alto sax, and flute with equal authority and imagination; he also did all the talking. After a program of dense, tonally ambiguous music, it was diverting to hear the duo close with "Hymn," a lilting, sonorous song in 6/8.

Following Melford and Ehrlich was a solo performance by pianist Borah Bergman. The free-jazz veteran just released The River of Sounds (Boxholder), with Mat Maneri on six-string violin and Conny Bauer on trombone. The suite of compositions therein was inspired by an esoteric, somewhat ominous story that Bergman printed in the liner notes — and reprinted in the program for his Merkin solo concert. This performance was billed as the world premiere of "The Double Idea" (a title that signifies total independence of the left and right hands). But once Bergman began it seemed he wasn’t sticking to any preconceived format at all: he played an old piece called "Poignant Dream," a free, unbounded "Chasin’ the Trane," and a closing "Waltz," among other things. It could be that "The Double Idea" is a governing concept rather than a particular piece of music. Bergman hinted at this during his brief announcements to the audience, when he discussed, in highly fragmented and eccentric fashion, the thinking behind the River of Sounds ("the River of Sounds is death," he explained); the Double Idea; his thoughts upon first hearing John Coltrane; the horror of September 11; and the challenges of the new century ("you’ve got to have skills; spirituality and passion are great, but if you don’t have skills you’re dead"). His playing and his banter were equally difficult to follow, and yet complementary in an authentic and beautiful way.

As both these Merkin sets unfolded, the artist Jeff Schlanger, seated in the front row with his large sketch pad propped up against the stage, drew furiously in color, with both hands, in real time. When the set was done, so was the picture. One could glimpse the beginnings of Schlanger’s reactive work, look away for ten minutes or so, and then glance back to discover that an explosively colorful world had come into being on the page. Talking to him after the show, I learned that he hails from my hometown of New Rochelle, NY, about 30 minutes outside the city. You can see some of his exceptional "live" drawings at www.onefinalnote.com.

Jazz Gallery, Cornelia Street

Among the members of pianist Jean-Michel Pilc’s trio (François Moutin, bass and Ari Hoenig, drums, appearing at the Jazz Gallery), the eye contact is nearly constant. Pilc can’t contain a smile as he looks over at Hoenig, who practically leaps down onto the crash cymbal after setting up a suspenseful and ultimately tsunami-like downbeat. Moutin’s chops are practically unparalleled: singing melodies, darting double-time lines, and involved contrapuntal passages all come into play during his exhaustive bass solos. Pilc’s effortless, classically influenced, anything-can-happen excursions hold it all together. Interestingly, though Pilc does a fair amount of writing, he tends to play a lot of standards ("What Is This Thing Called Love," "Just Friends," "Evidence" "Cousin Mary"), but he’s quite radical with them. I recall hearing Laszlo Gardony play "Solar" with Miroslav Vitous and Ian Froman in Somerville, MA in the mid-80s; that trio evinced a similar, though probably more understated, outlook on form and harmony.

At Cornelia Street Café, bassist Alexis Cuadrado led a quintet to celebrate the release of his beautiful Metro (Fresh Sound/New Talent). The Barcelona-born, soft-spoken Cuadrado was joined by most of the personnel from the record: Kris Bauman on alto, Steve Cardenas on guitar, Pete Rende on Wurlitzer, and Darren Becket on drums (subbing for Mark Ferber). The group was mixed quite well, with the bass a firm and anchoring presence. Rende’s electric keys were edgy, almost overdriven; this worked well alongside Cardenas’s biting yet liquid guitar. Cuadrado has a flair for the dramatically unfolding, picturesque composition. His bass line on "One-Way Ticket" serves as an agitated foil for a spacious alto/guitar unison line. His ballad "Like Henry," a Mancini tribute, finds him stating the moody melody first on bass, handing it to Cardenas on the next go-round, and then, after the solos, to Bauman for a final summation. "Canon," an unrecorded piece, closed the satisfying set.

Douglas at Tonic, Hill at Birdland

On record, Dave Douglas’s Witness is an 11-piece band. When the group played Tonic on two nights in late January, Douglas had scaled it down to seven: himself, Chris Potter on tenor and bass clarinet, Craig Taborn on Rhodes, Jamie Saft on Wurlitzer and effects, Brad Jones on electric upright bass, Michael Sarin on drums, and Ikue Mori on samples. Without cello, violin, vibes, and tuba, and with the addition of two electric keyboards, Witness was a very different beast — more of a mean machine than an unwieldy chamber ensemble. Douglas’s horn played a far greater role, his several chopsy solos generating tremendous heat. Potter’s full artillery was unleashed as well, on an unaccompanied bass clarinet statement and a tenor solo that brought Jones and Sarin to a full, swinging boil. Early in the set, Taborn embarked on a torrid Rhodes solo, tossing out ideas in a million directions and yet driving the group with an unfailing pulse. Mori and Saft gave the music a persistent undercurrent of sonic experimentation, their clicks, warbles, and blats ebbing and flowing with genuine musicality. Much of the material was new, suggesting that a second Witness album may be in the pipeline.

Onward to Birdland, on the same night, for the Andrew Hill Sextet plus 11. (It seems he’s intent on not calling it a big band.) Trumpeter Ron Horton, one of the sextet’s charter members, did no playing, serving instead as the conductor and musical director for the three-night run. Powered by Scott Colley on bass and Nasheet Waits on drums, the large yet lithe ensemble seemed an ideal vehicle for Hill’s opaque, jagged harmonic voyages. According to Horton, the road maps to these pieces change just about every time they’re played, necessitating verbal instructions before the countoff and routine communication as each tune proceeds. Long periods may elapse, however, with Horton sitting off to the side, relinquishing control altogether. The result is a truly enigmatic music that tinkers with the distinction between order and chaos. Without the top-shelf players that populate Hill’s group, it’s hard to imagine it working out. Prominent soloists included tenor saxophonists Aaron Stewart and Greg Tardy (who dueled during the first tune), alto sax and clarinet master Marty Ehrlich, trumpeter Dave Ballou, trombonists Mike Fahn and Joe Fiedler, and of course Hill himself, who laid bare his cryptic piano language during two unaccompanied interludes.

Six Musicians at the Vanguard

Don Byron confessed to being "awed" by his stint at the Vanguard with his Music for Six Musicians project. Interestingly, the first Sunday set focused primarily on material from the group’s 1995 Nonesuch album, rather than last year’s follow-up on Blue Note, You Are #6. Byron began with his back to the audience, communing with pianist Edsel Gomez on the beautiful duet "The Allure of Entanglement." "Next Love," from 1990’s Tuskegee Experiments, followed, and the whole band got in gear: Gomez, trumpeter James Zollar, electric bassist Leo Traversa, drummer Ben Wittman, percussionist Milton Cardona. The bleary-eyed Byron improvised like a fiend on B flat clarinet and directed the band expertly via hand cues and hollers. (Eventually the band started to holler back.) He gave the crowd a piece of his mind during his verbal set-up of "(the press made) Rodney King (responsible for the LA riots)," which stretched over at least 20 minutes, followed by another politically inspired piece, "The Importance of Being Sharpton." They may have played only three tunes, but they covered all the bases, and everyone got a solo — including the dexterous and marvelously subtle Cardona.