The tenor saxophonist Chris Potter puts enormous force into his sound, and an even greater measure of control. His tone, all over the extended range of the horn, is dry and dark, often brusque: he doesnt purr or warble, and he treats vibrato as a special indulgence, like a dusting of shaved truffles. Hes fond of thwarted symmetry and surprising digressions. He knows how to build pressure in a solo, and he does this with such extraordinary technical command that his exertions can feel both heroic and routine.
ts no coincidence that among a certain segment of the jazz public aspiring players, toiling in and out of music school his name commands nothing short of awe. And so it was that he opened a week at the Village Vanguard on Tuesday night to a room filled with rapt young men. (A few seemed to have brought their dads.) There were generous cheers at the start and finish of the set, for Mr. Potter and perhaps no less for his working band of the last five years, a high-octane jazz-rock outfit called Underground.
ts no coincidence that among a certain segment of the jazz public aspiring players, toiling in and out of music school his name commands nothing short of awe. And so it was that he opened a week at the Village Vanguard on Tuesday night to a room filled with rapt young men. (A few seemed to have brought their dads.) There were generous cheers at the start and finish of the set, for Mr. Potter and perhaps no less for his working band of the last five years, a high-octane jazz-rock outfit called Underground.
