As a bandleader he has plunged headlong into funk and dipped a toe in chamber orchestration, but the larger theme of his output seeks a footing on the bedrock of jazz convention. Hes still finding good terrain to explore there, as he proved at Jazz Standard on Thursday night.
Mr. Pelt, 33, has outgrown the unnatural glow of a prodigy. (Lee Morgan, one of his trumpet touchstones, died at that age. Clifford Brown and Booker Little didnt make it that far.) What he has now is a balance of proficiency and insight, and an aversion to unnecessary flash. His playing is impressive, with fast action, bladelike articulation and a full-featured tone. But he used each of his solos on Thursday mainly as a means of fleshing out ideas and, no less important, connecting with his working band.
It was the same quintet as on his stoutly effective new album, Men of Honor (HighNote), and on the one before that, November (MaxJazz). With J. D. Allen on tenor saxophone, Danny Grissett on piano, Dwayne Burno on bass and Gerald Cleaver on drums, the group has ample firepower, and nearly as much acumen. The new album features compositions by all the members of the group, and it somehow absorbs their stylistic differences into a flowing whole.
Miles Davis did something similar with his landmark 1960s quintet, the one with four sideman-composers: Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Tony Williams. Its surely no coincidence that this was the main reference point for Mr. Pelts set.
Milo Hayward, one of his more soulful originals, featured a slippery rhythmic underlay that would sound at home on the album Miles Smiles. A gorgeous, dark-hued ballad by Mr. Cleaver, From a Life of the Same Name, felt like the spiritual cousin of Little One, which Mr. Hancock recorded around the same time, with Davis and on his own. And Mr. Allen, in most of his solos, tested a careful derivation of Mr. Shorters sound and style.
