Branford Marsalis Quartet At Miner Auditorium

Branford Marsalis Quartet
Miner Auditorium
San Francisco, CA
October 23, 2025

SFJAZZ CEO Gabrielle Armand's warm welcome set the mood for Miner Auditorium, and Branford Marsalis stepped on stage with the dry humor of a seasoned bandleader, admitting to a tough travel day before dissolving any hint of fatigue with the first downbeat. A sold-out crowd leaned in; the group responded with focus and an easy intensity that only comes from years of shared work. In this hall, clarity meets warmth, and the quartet used both.

They opened with pianist Joey Calderazzo's "The Mighty Sword," a statement piece that reminds us this band has its own voice with pride. Justin Faulkner's ride cymbal spoke in smooth syllables while his snare provided sharp punctuation. Bassist Eric Revis anchored the stage with steady pitch and relaxed timing. Calderazzo's opening solo expanded harmonies outward without overshadowing the beat, and Marsalis—on soprano—joined in with a centered, singing tone. The tune moved swiftly yet never lost clarity. The quartet demonstrated how speed can remain clear when trust is strong.

Keith Jarrett's "Long as You Know You're Living Yours" followed, with the band fully inhabiting the material. Faulkner opened a patient pocket; Revis pressed forward with a flexible line; Marsalis's soprano curled over Calderazzo's intricate right hand work. The performance highlighted motion as a group choice, building energy in distinct waves and releasing it with precision. The audience's response had that unmistakable quality—spontaneous approval for craft, not just recognition.

Calderazzo's "Conversation Among the Ruins" transformed the mood inside the room. The pianist and Marsalis crafted a lyrical opening scene, like placing stones along a stream and letting the current swirl around them. A mid-tempo section arrived as if memory became immediate, then faded back to the silence that started it. From house left, Calderazzo's face stayed partly hidden by the lid, but his shoulders, wrists, and subtle cues to the rhythm section told the story: dialogue over display, propulsion through listening.

Marsalis moved to the mic to back-announce and introduce the next selection, Fred Fisher's "There Ain't No Sweet Man (That's Worth the Salt of My Tears)." He set it in its 1927 context—Prohibition and economic upheaval looming—then the quartet played clean swing lines and took turns in the spotlight. Calderazzo's commentary sparkled; Revis walked with authority; Faulkner delivered an economical three-minute solo that balanced muscle with shape, a drummer treating the kit as an instrument rather than a volume contest.

"Blossom," another Jarrett composition, arrived on tenor. Marsalis chose a slender, luminous core sound and stuck with it, letting the melody bloom effortlessly. Calderazzo traced a gentle counterpoint, and midway, Revis stepped forward for a solo built from tone and air as much as notes. Faulkner switched to brushes and mallets, pulling bell tones from cymbals and adding whispery textures by tapping rims with the metal ring of the brush handle. The band's use of silence felt deliberate; a surprise cadence closed the piece and drew an audible inhale from the hall. Revis's "Nilaste" sealed the set. Marsalis's soprano traced looping figures that gathered heat without forcing it. Calderazzo responded with a deeply voiced solo that briefly quoted a children's tune, to the crowd's delight, before steering the music back toward the edge. Faulkner's two snare setup made the drums speak in shades—one crack with gutbucket bite, one with rounded traditional tone—so he could turn the energy dial without smothering the melody. Revealing touch: before the show, he carefully taped a floor tom to tame overring, reflecting the work habits of an orchestral thinker inside a jazz engine room. The piece ended like a door opening onto night air, and the room stood.

The encore, "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)," felt like a mission statement. Ellington's slogan became a present-tense test that the quartet easily passed. Time seemed elastic yet grounded. The refrain lifted and snapped shut. Listeners were left with the pulse still pounding in their chests.

What lingered was the quality of attention on stage. Marsalis led with tone and narrative sense rather than force. Calderazzo balanced percussive weight with lyrical intent, a pianist who can open space and fill it with equal clarity. Revis argued persuasively for line as meaning; his bass lines carried harmony, time, and color equally. Faulkner fused athletic command with orchestral detail. Their work suggested a practice built on daily discipline and a willingness to take risks together. That current ran through the set: a demonstration of how a long—standing quartet renews itself through repertoire, place, and audience.

Miner Auditorium, in turn, amplified the ethic. This room rewards bands that explore dynamics and shade; it restored shimmer to Faulkner's cymbals and kept Revis's pitch lively at low volume, while the quartet responded with nuanced balance. Marsalis's comments between tunes—quick, unpretentious, generous—focused on the music rather than myth. The evening felt like serious music made with open arms.

Setlist

"The Mighty Sword," "'Long as You Know You're Living Yours," "Conversation Among the Ruins," "There Ain't No Sweet Man (That's Worth the Salt of My Tears)," "Blossom," "Nilaste." Encore: "Mood Indigo," "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing."

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