once said that sound has no parents. But that doesn't mean we can't be its children. On that point, jazz has always been something of a parental force, connecting progenies of representation across geographic and cultural borders. Its relationship to struggle has, however, at times been overshadowed by debate. On the one hand, jazz is a space in which divisions melt away in the interest of collective expression. On the other, such idealism risks ignoring the blood of oppression staining the backdrop of its evolution as an art form. These extremes of interpretation, and the sinews connecting them, were leitmotifs of the 2018 Winter Jazzfest, over which intersections of race, gender, and politics were indelible headliners.
All the more appropriate, then, that memorialization should be a red thread of the festival, as musicians paid homage to sages now departed. It was in this spirit that pianist/saxophonist Steve Colson
and his wife, vocalist Iqua Colson
, offered "Music of Protest & Love" in memory of the great Muhal Richard Abrams
. With the support of their attentive band, the Colsons revisited terrains of poetry, song, and survival. Tapping lyrical magma beneath the dissonant topsoil of elitism, they sought catharsis in unity. Railing against apathy in "The Problem" or deconstructing peace in "Triumph of the Outcasts, Coming," they reminded us that protest and the arts do indeed share a lung.
Other nights set up their respective altars. The most unusual of these was the "Roswell Rudd
Slide Eulogy," for which five trombonists-Josh Roseman
, Brian Drye
, Art Baron
, Steve Swell
, and Deborah Weisz
-played unaccompanied tunes and improvisations in honor of their mentor. The result couldn't have been more heartfelt. It's rare to hear the trombone in such intimate quarters, and to experience it in the shadow of Rudd's passing made for an unforgettable evening. As Weisz noted in a tender aside, Rudd was all about love, and love was all they gave in return. Particularly moving was Swell's concluding tone poem, as well as the double encore that brought the quintet together on stage for a joyful sendoff.
On January 14, Ravi Coltrane
opened the portal of his "Universal Consciousness: Melodic Meditations of Alice Coltrane," and through it ushered in one of the most visceral experiences of the week. Band members Brandee Younger
(harp), David Virelles (Wurlitzer organ and piano), Rashaan Carter
(bass), Marcus Gilmore
(drums), Román Díaz (percussion), and Adam Rogers
(guitar) were master grammarians, placing every comma, quotation mark, and exclamation point exactly where it needed to be. Díaz and Gilmore were the interlocking foundation to Rogers and Carter's anchorage. Yet it was Younger's harping and Virelles's laser-precise organ that added the most incisive details, their notes going straight to the cerebral cortex. Alice's gorgeous melodies held it all together with cosmic glue. Between "Rama Rama" and the closing "Affinity," the night was rich with constellations of her making. Albums of reference spanned the gamut, from 1970's Ptah, the El Daoud
to 2004's Translinear Light
. Ravi's tenor was robust and dynamic, his soprano coniferous and spicy, his sopranino verdant and exfoliating. In his navigations of "Blue Nile" and "Jagadishwar," he brought moisture to arid landscapes, and in "Los Caballos" (from 1975's Eternity
) wrapped his reed around the simpatico dialogue of his rhythmists. Only an experienced sonic traveler could unpack so much from so little.
The festival's biggest draw yielded another dedicatory highlight when drummer Terri Lyne Carrington
headed an all-star tribute to Geri Allen
. In terms of both roster and reach, it was an extensive performance comprised of multiple groups and as many approaches to the pianist/composer's legacy. Carrington has called Allen's music "food for the soul," and judging by the breadth of her curation, perhaps no statement could be truer. Allen's very fingers were roots. They sprang from creative soil even as they plunged into its nutrient-rich backstories, cultivating the land until a veritable continent of self-expression and divine community was born, as emphasized by pianist Craig Taborn
's opening improvisation-a piece which, like Allen's art on the whole, was sparkling yet deeply schooled in the necessity of shadow.