Day 11 - Festival International de Jazz de Montreal, July 8, 2006

John Kelman

Senior Editor since 2004

With the realization that there will always be more music coming at him than he can keep up with, John wonders why anyone would think that jazz is dead or dying.

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Published: July 10, 2006

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Pieranunzi continued to impress with an approach that can range from abstraction to clear definition. Like McCandless, his solos are the epitome of construction, building from initial motifs in spontaneous and fully conceived ways. A sensitive accompanist, he built layers of harmony beneath Montellanico that complemented her but also led her in new directions, whether on a bright up-tempo swinger or a melancholy ballad.

Bulgarelli and Paoli make a fine rhythm section with wide-open ears. Paoli in particular seemed to be able to anticipate many of the moves of those around him, adding shots that were never non sequiturs. Both were delicate accompanists, although Paoli often hinted at more power. But on the rare occasion that he received some solo space, Bulgarelli proved himself a melodic player with a deep and inviting tone.

The majority of the solo space was reserved for Pieranunzi and McCandless, and McCandless shone the most, if only because he's proven—through a wide range of collaborations with musicians including banjo player Bela Fleck, pianist Art Lande and bassists Eberhard Weber and Jaco Pastorius—to be such a highly adaptable player. He may not receive the critical kudos he deserves from the trade periodicals, but anyone who's familiar with his work knows that he brings a special, broadly influenced improvisational quality to any project. His work during last night's performance was further evidence of his ability to fit any context, and he clearly shared a strong rapport with Pieranunzi.

When his name was announced at the start of his 10:30 pm performance at Gesu, clarinetist Don Byron came out in a beige suit and hat that were perfectly in keeping with the tribute he was paying to the trio of Lester Young, Nat Cole and Buddy Rich, who served as the inspiration for his most recent album, Ivey-Divey (Blue Note, 2004). "Grammy blah, JazzTimes blah, Byron self-effacingly said when he addressed the capacity crowd after the first couple of tunes, culled from the disc, featuring pianist Jason Moran and drummer Billy Hart (who replaced Jack DeJohnette from the record). "It's a good record. It's yellow—you can't miss it, Byron continued.

Byron, a member of Mensa, may have a brilliant mind, but he knows how to establish a connection with his audience and never comes off as too cerebral. In fact, the entire ninety-minute set was characterized by deep passion for the music. The material included the music of Lester Young; Byron's own music from a soundtrack where he was asked to put to music the infernal arguing of a couple that have simply been together too long and don't care who hears them arguing; and brilliant interpretations of Miles Davis' title track to In a Silent Way (Columbia, 1969) and "Freddie Freeloader," from Miles' classic Kind of Blue (Columbia, 1959). The set also reflected a dry sense of humor and a shared cameraderie between Byron, Moran and Hart.

While virtuosic, Byron's playing was firmly grounded in the material, which spanned more than half a century. His impassioned delivery was an edgy alternative to Gabrielle Mirabassi's more overtly lyrical performances at the Suono Italia series, but he didn't operate in any kind of vacuum. The interplay between the members of the trio allowed "In a Silent Way to transform from the more inside reading on the disc into a dramatic tour-de-force, ranging from the delicate statement of its theme to the more aggressive stance of Moran's solo, where he sometimes seemed to violently attack his piano.

Jason Moran is something of a curiosity. While Soundtrack to Human Emotion (Blue Note, 1999) was a strong debut from this young artist, his subsequent records, though critically acclaimed, have been somewhat inconsistent. He may in fact shine more as a support player, in particular on records with saxophonist Greg Osby. Last night's performance was in character; Moran is especially adept at taking music from, say, sixty years ago and applying a more modernistic bent.

Billy Hart may not have DeJohnette's cachet, but he should. A listening drummer with a surprising flair for the unpredictable, his open-minded approach to the material found him swinging with bluster when required, but equally capable of adopting the textural approach that some of the music demanded.

Byron, who is usually known for his clarinet work, reacquainted himself with the tenor saxophone for Ivey-Divey. With a couple of years under his belt since the recording, he's developed a tone that's not as harsh or brash as some but, instead, possesses a softer tone that is in keeping with Young's own sound. Byron's emotional involvement with the music was clear: he occasionally jumped out of his chair and uttered raspy "ows when he executed a particularly difficult phrase or wanted to express appreciation for Moran and Hart.

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