What started as an extremely promising night honouring
those who have given their life to jazz, ended with a selection of jazz
musicians trying to weave context between the occasion and a rock legend
enthralling his loyal fans.
Tonight was called “A Great Night in Harlem,” a reference
to the famous photo taken outside a red brick walk-up on 119th Street. The
opening act was the Sun Ra Arkestra (normally a headline group) and they played
their asses off!! I’ve seen this group in London and San Francisco and they
clearly felt the spirit to push way over the edge. A really magical cacophony
of retro space age free jazz from this large ensemble of septuagenarians,
octogenarians nonagenarians, and Marshall Allen, centenarian, all replete in
glorious sequin gowns and headdresses. The set ended with a coincidence that
stretched my smile to bursting. As they departed the stage they chanted the
title of my newest track Space is the Place.
Next up Jazzmeia Horn, a Berklee undergraduate singer with
an incredible range and control. Jazzmeia gave us one of her own songs, and a
standard. It was classy and well received by the 1,500 capacity crowd.
Alexis
Morast & Matthew Whitaker came next. A bongo pattern played with sticks and
some gentle Hammond organ set the scene for a few minutes before Alexis’ warm
soulful vocals put everyone at ease.
Now for the big band. A Max Roach tribute featuring Billy
Hart, Louis Hayes, and Jeff Tain Watts standing in for Al Foster. Tain sat
centre stage and cleaned up with his deft light touch. My fantasy engine room
is Tain and Christian McBride, (saw them together in a little club here many years
ago) and he did nothing to ruin that vision. Understated relaxed supreme
mastery. The three drummers did well to maintain momentum without overly
stepping on each others’ toes. The band’s swing broadened to accommodate their
slightly different feels.
After the drummers came features for Charles Tolliver and
Dee Dee Bridgewater. Charles was slumped over a chair in darkness, as if an
artistic installation, seemingly oblivious in all but ears and fingers. By
contrast Dee Dee glided onto the stage in sequin gown and sparkly 6” platform
heels. She owned the show and everyone slotted in behind her. Still in the
heels, she often bent over double to get in Tolliver’s face and spar with him.
All in all an awesome exercise in rhythmic evolution and group exploration.
Then it got weird. Rapper Chuck D told us that ignoring a
musician in a hotel foyer is ‘effing disrespectful’ and reminded us that all
music is built from giants including those on the stage tonight. He then
continued the socially conscience theme and asked the audience to chant “kill
them guns”. “I don’t hate people, I hate guns. Say it with me KILL THEM GUNS” …
about 30 people obliged but the majority of the auditorium stopped smiling, and
folded their arms. Tumbleweed trundled across the stage. Hiphop has always had
socially conscious origins but they have never been publicised as greatly as
its nemesis: negative stereotype orientated rap. Nevertheless some great
grooves ensued with guest drummer Steve Jordan and Mix Master Mike.
And finally the headline act….
Bobby Weir of the Grateful
Dead. Bobby opened his show with what might be the most unusual arrangement
ever of
I’ve Got You Under My Skin. It had all the aplomb of a ferret
attempting crochet. It was strange! A demonstration of jazz reduction. The
chords were reduced to triads and the sax solos were swiftly replaced with
meandering fretboard bothering. When they finished the auditorium fell almost
silent. Fortunately he moved on to what I can only presume were his greatest
hits. Deadheads awoke from their slumber, phones were held aloft to film, and
whirling dervishes found their place in the cosmos. The selection of jazz
musicians did their best to provide some context. Free jazz vied with guitar
jam band and some growly vocals. Without him they might have developed a vast
exploration. Without them, he might have gone deep into the blue. Together the
two components cancelled each other out.
All the acts were interspersed with videos and speeches and
overall it was a well-produced and enjoyable spectacle. A highlight was 100
year old Marshall Allen receiving a lifetime accolade, and Max Roach’s daughter
charismatically pleading for peace. The star of the evening was the organising
body: The Foundation of America, and the support it provides to jazz musicians
in times of deepest need. The night conformed refreshingly to Whitley
Balliett’s definition of jazz: the sound of surprise. What added to the effect
was that it seemed the musicians performing were just as surprised as those of
us seated in the auditorium. Aaron Liddard
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