THE waters were placid, the breeze was a balm and the Statue of Liberty was keeping her vigil about a hundred yards aft. Maybe more, maybe less. From the rear deck of the Spirit of New York one recent evening, she seemed plenty close, anyway, and oddly approachable: an onshore well-wisher, watching over the slow pivot that marked the midpoint of our tour. By chance, this was the moment at which the music stopped, and a voice overrode the applause: “We're going to skip ahead 27 albums and play something new for you."
That was Jay Beckenstein, the saxophonist and leader of Spyro Gyra, making a segue from “Shaker Song," which opens the band's 1978 debut, into “Unspoken," from an album released last year. We were aboard the Smooth Cruise, now in its 13th year, held each Wednesday through summer's end by Spirit Cruises. Most passengers were inside with the band, closing in on a swatch of dance floor, but the sound was also being piped on deck, where I slouched at a rail. I was having a suspiciously good time.
Smooth jazz is all about pleasure, but I hadn't expected much. It isn't really my thing, this waxy, wine-lighted catchall genre--also known by niche-programming terms like urban contemporary, chill and, confusingly, contemporary jazz. Not that I'm inclined to moralize about it; for me, smooth jazz has always been less of an affront than an afterthought, like frozen TV dinners. My fallback strategy is avoidance. So any thoughts of boarding a Smooth Cruise stirred a mild trepidation, along with a milder enthusiasm.
The enthusiasm was almost conceptual, rooted in the elegance of the pairing. I mean, Smooth Cruise: the two words seem meant for each other. Both cruises and smooth jazz hold the promise of a passive indulgence, of kicking back and letting go.
That was Jay Beckenstein, the saxophonist and leader of Spyro Gyra, making a segue from “Shaker Song," which opens the band's 1978 debut, into “Unspoken," from an album released last year. We were aboard the Smooth Cruise, now in its 13th year, held each Wednesday through summer's end by Spirit Cruises. Most passengers were inside with the band, closing in on a swatch of dance floor, but the sound was also being piped on deck, where I slouched at a rail. I was having a suspiciously good time.
Smooth jazz is all about pleasure, but I hadn't expected much. It isn't really my thing, this waxy, wine-lighted catchall genre--also known by niche-programming terms like urban contemporary, chill and, confusingly, contemporary jazz. Not that I'm inclined to moralize about it; for me, smooth jazz has always been less of an affront than an afterthought, like frozen TV dinners. My fallback strategy is avoidance. So any thoughts of boarding a Smooth Cruise stirred a mild trepidation, along with a milder enthusiasm.
The enthusiasm was almost conceptual, rooted in the elegance of the pairing. I mean, Smooth Cruise: the two words seem meant for each other. Both cruises and smooth jazz hold the promise of a passive indulgence, of kicking back and letting go.
