Brad Mehldau and Bill Frisell are hardly underrepresented in my CD collection. That's probably because whenever one of them cuts a new joint, I run right out and pick it up and am generally dazzled by the results. And predictably enough, I've been spinning their latest respective recordings on a fairly regular rotation this summer, both of which should be included among the best work of the artists.
Pianist Mehldau teams up once again with perhaps his best rhythm team, bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Jeff Ballard, for the exquisite double-disc simply titled Live (on the Nonesuch label). Recorded over several nights at The Village Vanguard in 2006, the trio works through a repertoire encompassing everything from Oasis' "Wonderwall" and Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" to Jimmy Heath's "C.T.A." and Trane's "Countdown." And yet, it hardly sounds schizophrenic or forced, but rather all of one piece, that is, like excellent piano jazz played at a dizzyingly high level. Mehldau originals such as "Ruby's Rub" and "B-Flat Waltz" provide plenty of excitement and harmonic complexity, as Grenadier provides sensitive and toneful accompaniment and Ballard is simply a marvel as he uses color and texture like a master impressionist. The pianist has been honing his trio sensibilities over the years live and in the studio, and it's a thrill to hear just how far he's gone within the genre.
Mehldau's Nonesuch labelmate Frisell also returns to familiar terrain with the aptly titled History, Mystery, also a double disc. As he has so effectively over the past decade or so, Frisell delves into dark corners of a variety of roots musics, exploring and probing the fascinating and creepy things he finds there. The guitarist and composer assembles frequent collaborators including violinist Jenny Scheinman, violist Eyvind Kang, cellist Hank Roberts, cornetist Ron Miles, bassist Tony Scherr and drummer Kenny Wollesen for a creepy, moonlit ride along dusty backroads, perhaps stopping to peek under the tent of a traveling freak show or a town peopled by circus folk. The program almost feels like a motorist fiddling with the radio dial as he drives — particulary given Frisell's penchant for electronic noodling — tuning into various stations along the way. In addition to his own chill-raising compositions, Frisell also interprets world music, bop (Monk and Konitz both get the Frisell treatment here) and R&B, this last represented with a cool (but not glib) slink through Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come," featuring some beautiful work from saxophonist Greg Tardy, who sermonizes like a country preacher. Frisell sounds like no one else, unless of course they're copying him; he continues to refine his genius for this style of music and plays this terrific ensemble like another instrument in his arsenal. Brilliant stuff.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
More local-jazz CD faves
Here are some more of my favorite South Florida jazz recordings. Got some of your own? Respond to the blog or send 'em to me at Bobweinberg@mac.com.
6. Gary Keller: Blues for an Old New Age (Double Time). Saxophonist Keller pays the ultimate compliment to UM facultymate/mentor Ron Miller by recording a selection of his wonderfully evocative compositions. Doubling on tenor and soprano saxes, Keller leads an excellent crew — including pianist Kenny Werner, bassist Drew Gress and drummer Billy Hart — through Miller's tunes, which are redolent of orange blossoms and ocean air and draw the connection between the Florida sound and the music of Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter.
7. Jaco Pastorius Big Band: The Word Is Out! (Heads Up). Peter Graves helms this amazing group of South Florida players and special guests (Bob Mintzer, Randy Brecker, Toots Thielemans) as they revisit the brightly hued compositions of Pastorius on this second outing. (The first recording, 2003's Word of Mouth Revisited, is a must-own, as well.) Rather than fixating on the bass, the recording puts the attention squarely on Pastorius' writing, featuring outstanding arrangements of classics such as "Cannonball," "Three Views of a Secret" and the delightful "Good Morning Anya." Packed with local greats such as saxophonists Billy Ross and Gary Keller, trumpeter Jason Carder, trombonist Dana Teboe, pianist Mike Levine, guitarist Randy Bernsen, bassist Jeff Carswell, percussionist Bobby Thomas Jr. and steel-drum master Othello, many of whom actually knew and played with Jaco, you could hardly find a more-fitting band to pay tribute to one of South Florida's most-influential musicians.
8. Don Miller: Dial M for Bass (High Life). Not to be confused with keyboardist-composer-UM professor Ron Miller, bass virtuouso Don Miller put together some stellar small ensembles on Dial M. The trio including pianist Felix Gomez and drummer Jonathan Joseph navigates noir era tunes such as "Street of Dreams" and "I Hear a Rhapsody," and takes on modern composers such as Shorter, Hancock and Benny Golson, as well. Another trio comprises pianist Brian Murphy and drummer Duffy Jackson, and Ira Sullivan adds tenor sax and trumpet (dig his cheerfully muted playing on MIller's own "S' Gettin' Better All the Time") on a couple of tunes.
9. John "Spider" Martin and Dr. Lonnie Smith: Live! From the Breakers of Fort Lauderdale Rooftop (Mirror Image). This is a true classic, sometimes spotted in the cut-out bins at used CD stores. Tenor saxophonist Spider Martin drives the action on a live set of bop and hardbop burners, leading a grooving band consisting of Hammond organ wizard Dr. Lonnie Smith, guitarist Jerry Byrd, drummer Ignacio Berroa and percussionist Tony Verdejo. A snapshot of the era (likely the mid '80s, as son Pookie, who sits in on drums, was just a tyke), this live session documents the late Martin at an artistic peak. Although it's somewhat muffled, the introduction is worth turning up the volume on your stereo for, as the unmistakable Bah-stahn accent of Blue Note record store owner Bob Perry briefly welcomes Spider and co. to the stage.
10. Scott Routenberg: Lots of Pulp (Denmaster). This 2003 recording from UM-trained pianist-composer Routenberg blew me away. While you marvel at the inventiveness of his sound-design — he sampled everything from the jingle of sacks of change to the thwuck of concentrated orange juice squeezed from its container — the masterful compositions and good humor win you over. Colors from violin, harp and cello to flute, sax and oboe add to the tonal pallette, mixing the organic and electronic in a very modern and satisfying way.
6. Gary Keller: Blues for an Old New Age (Double Time). Saxophonist Keller pays the ultimate compliment to UM facultymate/mentor Ron Miller by recording a selection of his wonderfully evocative compositions. Doubling on tenor and soprano saxes, Keller leads an excellent crew — including pianist Kenny Werner, bassist Drew Gress and drummer Billy Hart — through Miller's tunes, which are redolent of orange blossoms and ocean air and draw the connection between the Florida sound and the music of Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter.
7. Jaco Pastorius Big Band: The Word Is Out! (Heads Up). Peter Graves helms this amazing group of South Florida players and special guests (Bob Mintzer, Randy Brecker, Toots Thielemans) as they revisit the brightly hued compositions of Pastorius on this second outing. (The first recording, 2003's Word of Mouth Revisited, is a must-own, as well.) Rather than fixating on the bass, the recording puts the attention squarely on Pastorius' writing, featuring outstanding arrangements of classics such as "Cannonball," "Three Views of a Secret" and the delightful "Good Morning Anya." Packed with local greats such as saxophonists Billy Ross and Gary Keller, trumpeter Jason Carder, trombonist Dana Teboe, pianist Mike Levine, guitarist Randy Bernsen, bassist Jeff Carswell, percussionist Bobby Thomas Jr. and steel-drum master Othello, many of whom actually knew and played with Jaco, you could hardly find a more-fitting band to pay tribute to one of South Florida's most-influential musicians.
8. Don Miller: Dial M for Bass (High Life). Not to be confused with keyboardist-composer-UM professor Ron Miller, bass virtuouso Don Miller put together some stellar small ensembles on Dial M. The trio including pianist Felix Gomez and drummer Jonathan Joseph navigates noir era tunes such as "Street of Dreams" and "I Hear a Rhapsody," and takes on modern composers such as Shorter, Hancock and Benny Golson, as well. Another trio comprises pianist Brian Murphy and drummer Duffy Jackson, and Ira Sullivan adds tenor sax and trumpet (dig his cheerfully muted playing on MIller's own "S' Gettin' Better All the Time") on a couple of tunes.
9. John "Spider" Martin and Dr. Lonnie Smith: Live! From the Breakers of Fort Lauderdale Rooftop (Mirror Image). This is a true classic, sometimes spotted in the cut-out bins at used CD stores. Tenor saxophonist Spider Martin drives the action on a live set of bop and hardbop burners, leading a grooving band consisting of Hammond organ wizard Dr. Lonnie Smith, guitarist Jerry Byrd, drummer Ignacio Berroa and percussionist Tony Verdejo. A snapshot of the era (likely the mid '80s, as son Pookie, who sits in on drums, was just a tyke), this live session documents the late Martin at an artistic peak. Although it's somewhat muffled, the introduction is worth turning up the volume on your stereo for, as the unmistakable Bah-stahn accent of Blue Note record store owner Bob Perry briefly welcomes Spider and co. to the stage.
10. Scott Routenberg: Lots of Pulp (Denmaster). This 2003 recording from UM-trained pianist-composer Routenberg blew me away. While you marvel at the inventiveness of his sound-design — he sampled everything from the jingle of sacks of change to the thwuck of concentrated orange juice squeezed from its container — the masterful compositions and good humor win you over. Colors from violin, harp and cello to flute, sax and oboe add to the tonal pallette, mixing the organic and electronic in a very modern and satisfying way.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
RTF? WTF? WLRN FRI
Jazz-fusions fans are drooling over this one: the return of Return to Forever. The lineup of the band from its commercial peak in the early-to-mid-'70s has reunited for a world tour that brings the group to The Fillmore on Miami Beach on Wednesday, July 30. Comprising Chick Corea, Al Di Meola, Stanley Clarke and Lenny White, RTF has been reviving material from its classic recordings like (the pre-Di Meola) Hymn of the Seventh Galaxy and Where Have I Known You Before in front of ecstatic audiences, some of whom surely were too young or maybe not even born during the group's heyday.
A newly released double-disc anthology culls selections from this incarnation of the band's four albums, some of which have aged better than others. But damn, these cats could play! Pick it up for Clarke's and White's contributions alone, as the slippery bassist and speed-bag-punching drummer injected some powerful funk and righteous rock into the occasionally ponderous material. And go to the show for the same reason, as well as to see the virtuosic Di Meola and the remarkable Corea; while RTF isn't my favorite setting in which to hear Corea perform (unless, of course, it's the earlier version of the band with Flora Purim and Airto Moreira), the man is a master, whether he's seated at a grand piano or a bank of synthesizers.
Oh yeah, and if you want to hear more on my take of RTF and the new anthology, tune into Ed Bell's South Florida Arts Beat on WLRN-91.3 FM Friday sometime between 1 and 2 p.m. Also, check out the band's site at Return2forever.com, complete with tour blogs and set lists.
A newly released double-disc anthology culls selections from this incarnation of the band's four albums, some of which have aged better than others. But damn, these cats could play! Pick it up for Clarke's and White's contributions alone, as the slippery bassist and speed-bag-punching drummer injected some powerful funk and righteous rock into the occasionally ponderous material. And go to the show for the same reason, as well as to see the virtuosic Di Meola and the remarkable Corea; while RTF isn't my favorite setting in which to hear Corea perform (unless, of course, it's the earlier version of the band with Flora Purim and Airto Moreira), the man is a master, whether he's seated at a grand piano or a bank of synthesizers.
Oh yeah, and if you want to hear more on my take of RTF and the new anthology, tune into Ed Bell's South Florida Arts Beat on WLRN-91.3 FM Friday sometime between 1 and 2 p.m. Also, check out the band's site at Return2forever.com, complete with tour blogs and set lists.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Chicago blues fest, soggy final chapter
The rain had been intermittent for most of Chicago Blues Fest (June 5-8), certainly nothing like the raging thunderstorms that buffeted much of the Midwest that week and kept me on the ground at the Cincinnati aiport for nearly five hours. (More like underground; travelers were actually evacuated from terminals and herded into a seemingly endless concrete corridor beneath the airport, which, I was told was actually in Kentucky, not Cincy.) Then came Sunday of blues fest, the last day of the four-day event, and dark clouds fulfilled their threat by drenching Grant Park with a biblical downpour.
I had started out the day with the brilliant harmonies and exuberant dance steps of the Victory Travelers on the Front Porch stage, a highly entertaining gospel legacy group that's been around since the '60s, and then made my way to the Crossroads stage to check out Rodney Brown's salute to Louis Jordan, which was everything that Duke Robillard's tribute to Jordan a couple of nights before was not — you know, fun. That's when the skies opened and it looked as though relief would not be coming any time soon.
There really is no shelter to be had at Grant Park, and longtime festgoers know they will get alternately scorched and drenched during the weekend. I darted for a stand of trees, and the thick canopy provided some protection as an announcement on the PA encouraged people to head for the parking garages. I stood my (sodden) ground. After about a half an hour, by which time I was fairly soaked, the rain stopped. Just like that. Within about another half hour, performers began taking the stages again. Remarkable. Imagine that happening at an event in South Florida ...
With a newly purchased festival T-shirt the only dry apparel on me, I squooshed my way over to the Louisiana Bayou stage to catch excellent acoustic blues interpreter Paul Geremia. I was a bit put-off by the usually reliable David Whiteis description in the Chicago Reader fest guide of Geremia as being "rooted in someone else's past." Um, well, yeah, he's playing country blues and he's a white guy; does that invalidate every white player who didn't grow up on a plantation chopping cotton? Seemed specious to me, and Geremia proved as much, with his brilliant heartfelt renditions of songs by the likes of Blind Willie McTell and Mose Allison.
Tony Joe White was as craggy and intriguing as I had always heard he was, his vocals dark and well-lived in, his lyrics equally so and tinged with humor as black and dry as gunpowder. Went back for second helpings of Cedric Burnside and Lightnin' Malcolm, the still-inexhaustible T-Model Ford and Otis Taylor and his excellent band, all of whom were more than worth the price of the previous drenching. (Did I mention the entire four-day fest is free?)
Magic Slim and the Teardrops are among my very favorite Chicago blues bands, and the fellas were as potent as the hot peppers and giardiana gravy on an Italian beef. By this time, the sun was not just back in the sky, but out for vengeance, as it beat down mercilessly on the crowds who were starting to fill the bandshell for the evening's headliner: B.B. King. I was thankful for my old damp shirt, which served as a cool do rag.
Little Willie Littlefield heated up the stage for B.B., his huge personality and boogie-woogie piano filling the enormous Petrillo Bandshell. Once again, off came the right shoe, as Littlefield, a contemporary of B.'s, stomped the stage with his stockinged foot and rolled out the rollicking piano blues that established him as a late '40s-early '50s powerhouse performer.
Then, it was star time. As the bandshell filled, and B.'s band took the stage, Buddy Guy came out to welcome his old friend and presented him with some kind of official city proclamation. The King was obviously moved by this grand greeting, as well as by being back in Chicago, and he reminisced about his time spent in the city amongst giants such as Muddy Waters. He then launched into classics from his heyday, truly feeling it on classics such as "Three O' Clock in the Morning" and "Don't Answer the Door." A concession to age, King remained seated through most of his performance, but was in great voice, as was Lucille, as distinctive a sound as there is in the blues world.
King provided the perfect capper to the festival, which was more than worth the delayed flights, the sunburns and the drenchings. This event is truly one-of-a-kind, featuring many performers you rarely see elsewhere and presented with reverence and respect for a genre that's often reduced to lowest-common-denominator blues-rock clones and cliché.
I had started out the day with the brilliant harmonies and exuberant dance steps of the Victory Travelers on the Front Porch stage, a highly entertaining gospel legacy group that's been around since the '60s, and then made my way to the Crossroads stage to check out Rodney Brown's salute to Louis Jordan, which was everything that Duke Robillard's tribute to Jordan a couple of nights before was not — you know, fun. That's when the skies opened and it looked as though relief would not be coming any time soon.
There really is no shelter to be had at Grant Park, and longtime festgoers know they will get alternately scorched and drenched during the weekend. I darted for a stand of trees, and the thick canopy provided some protection as an announcement on the PA encouraged people to head for the parking garages. I stood my (sodden) ground. After about a half an hour, by which time I was fairly soaked, the rain stopped. Just like that. Within about another half hour, performers began taking the stages again. Remarkable. Imagine that happening at an event in South Florida ...
With a newly purchased festival T-shirt the only dry apparel on me, I squooshed my way over to the Louisiana Bayou stage to catch excellent acoustic blues interpreter Paul Geremia. I was a bit put-off by the usually reliable David Whiteis description in the Chicago Reader fest guide of Geremia as being "rooted in someone else's past." Um, well, yeah, he's playing country blues and he's a white guy; does that invalidate every white player who didn't grow up on a plantation chopping cotton? Seemed specious to me, and Geremia proved as much, with his brilliant heartfelt renditions of songs by the likes of Blind Willie McTell and Mose Allison.
Tony Joe White was as craggy and intriguing as I had always heard he was, his vocals dark and well-lived in, his lyrics equally so and tinged with humor as black and dry as gunpowder. Went back for second helpings of Cedric Burnside and Lightnin' Malcolm, the still-inexhaustible T-Model Ford and Otis Taylor and his excellent band, all of whom were more than worth the price of the previous drenching. (Did I mention the entire four-day fest is free?)
Magic Slim and the Teardrops are among my very favorite Chicago blues bands, and the fellas were as potent as the hot peppers and giardiana gravy on an Italian beef. By this time, the sun was not just back in the sky, but out for vengeance, as it beat down mercilessly on the crowds who were starting to fill the bandshell for the evening's headliner: B.B. King. I was thankful for my old damp shirt, which served as a cool do rag.
Little Willie Littlefield heated up the stage for B.B., his huge personality and boogie-woogie piano filling the enormous Petrillo Bandshell. Once again, off came the right shoe, as Littlefield, a contemporary of B.'s, stomped the stage with his stockinged foot and rolled out the rollicking piano blues that established him as a late '40s-early '50s powerhouse performer.
Then, it was star time. As the bandshell filled, and B.'s band took the stage, Buddy Guy came out to welcome his old friend and presented him with some kind of official city proclamation. The King was obviously moved by this grand greeting, as well as by being back in Chicago, and he reminisced about his time spent in the city amongst giants such as Muddy Waters. He then launched into classics from his heyday, truly feeling it on classics such as "Three O' Clock in the Morning" and "Don't Answer the Door." A concession to age, King remained seated through most of his performance, but was in great voice, as was Lucille, as distinctive a sound as there is in the blues world.
King provided the perfect capper to the festival, which was more than worth the delayed flights, the sunburns and the drenchings. This event is truly one-of-a-kind, featuring many performers you rarely see elsewhere and presented with reverence and respect for a genre that's often reduced to lowest-common-denominator blues-rock clones and cliché.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Weinberg on Gilmore on WLRN on Friday
If you happen to be within earshot of a radio sometime between noon and 1 p.m. Friday (7/11), I'll be reviewing Joey Gilmore's fine new CD, Bluesman. Dial up WLRN-91.3 FM and tune in to Ed Bell's South Florida Arts Beat.
The new recording is a real crowd-pleaser, filled with some classic blues interpretations, a couple of originals and a pair of Graham Wood Drout bookends, including an excellent read of "Ghosts of Mississippi," which is punched up here with horns and backup vocals. Gilmore more than does justice to the image-laden lyrics that earned "Ghosts" a Blues Critics Award for song of the year when a different version of the song appeared as the title track on Gilmore's 2005 recording.
The new recording is a real crowd-pleaser, filled with some classic blues interpretations, a couple of originals and a pair of Graham Wood Drout bookends, including an excellent read of "Ghosts of Mississippi," which is punched up here with horns and backup vocals. Gilmore more than does justice to the image-laden lyrics that earned "Ghosts" a Blues Critics Award for song of the year when a different version of the song appeared as the title track on Gilmore's 2005 recording.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Five guys named Moe, one guy named Louis
The first time I heard a Louis Jordan song, it was featured in, of all things, a Tom and Jerry cartoon from the '40s or '50s. (And yes, wise guy, it was rerun I watched as a kid growing up in the '70s.) As I remember it, Tom was wooing a lady cat armed with an upright bass and slyly crooning "Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby." It was irresistible, as were almost all the tunes by the hugely influential Little Rock, Ark., native, whose centennial was celebrated July 8. (Jordan died in 1975.)
His tunes were like humorous playlets set to boogie rhythms that defy all efforts to not jitterbug like one of the case-study kids from Reefer Madness. This was proto-rock'n'roll, Ur&B, the template for Chuck Berry and Little Richard and Bo Diddley and Ray Charles and B.B. King and Gatemouth Brown. Discovering his music was, for me, like finding the Rosetta Stone.
And wouldn't you know it took Joe Jackson's 1981 tribute album Jumpin' Jive to affect the proper introduction (from an Enlgishman, no less!). Fingerpoppers such as "Jack, You're Dead," the aforementioned "Is You Is" and especially "Five Guys Named Moe" captured my imagination, brought me back to a fabled time when Jordan and Cab Calloway and Lester Young were the jukebox kings of the day. Over the years, I would delight in finding collections of Jordan's work, as well as tunes that popped up on albums by the likes of Lou Rawls (who does one of my favorite covers of "Saturday Night Fish Fry" with Joe Williams and Lionel Hampton on his Portrait of the Blues recording) and B.B. King, who did a superb album of Jordan covers that remains one of his late-career best. And, hell, who didn't cover "Caldonia," still one of the most ecstatic call-and-response tunes to ever get a crowd hoppin' on the dancefloor.
Best of all was seeing the vintage musical "shorts" of Jordan which would often run on David Sanborn's excellent (and too short-lived) late-night Sunday television program. Mugging like the showman he was, Jordan instructed the fellas in the band to "Beware, brother, beware" when their girls were being suspiciously nice to them. But like Satchmo, Jordan was no clown, which was evidenced in his sharp suits and generally dapper appearance. And anyone who dared to think he was a novelty act would have his mind forever changed when Jordan hefted his alto sax and blew sometimes all-too-brief solos.
Here are my Top 10 Louis Jordan tunes:
1. "Choo Choo Ch'Boogie"
2. "Five Guys Named Moe"
3. "Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens"
4. "Knock Me a Kiss"
5. "I'm Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town"
6. "Salt Pork West Virginia"
7. "Fire"
8. "Big Bess"
9. "Early in the Mornin'"
10. "Beans and Cornbread"
His tunes were like humorous playlets set to boogie rhythms that defy all efforts to not jitterbug like one of the case-study kids from Reefer Madness. This was proto-rock'n'roll, Ur&B, the template for Chuck Berry and Little Richard and Bo Diddley and Ray Charles and B.B. King and Gatemouth Brown. Discovering his music was, for me, like finding the Rosetta Stone.
And wouldn't you know it took Joe Jackson's 1981 tribute album Jumpin' Jive to affect the proper introduction (from an Enlgishman, no less!). Fingerpoppers such as "Jack, You're Dead," the aforementioned "Is You Is" and especially "Five Guys Named Moe" captured my imagination, brought me back to a fabled time when Jordan and Cab Calloway and Lester Young were the jukebox kings of the day. Over the years, I would delight in finding collections of Jordan's work, as well as tunes that popped up on albums by the likes of Lou Rawls (who does one of my favorite covers of "Saturday Night Fish Fry" with Joe Williams and Lionel Hampton on his Portrait of the Blues recording) and B.B. King, who did a superb album of Jordan covers that remains one of his late-career best. And, hell, who didn't cover "Caldonia," still one of the most ecstatic call-and-response tunes to ever get a crowd hoppin' on the dancefloor.
Best of all was seeing the vintage musical "shorts" of Jordan which would often run on David Sanborn's excellent (and too short-lived) late-night Sunday television program. Mugging like the showman he was, Jordan instructed the fellas in the band to "Beware, brother, beware" when their girls were being suspiciously nice to them. But like Satchmo, Jordan was no clown, which was evidenced in his sharp suits and generally dapper appearance. And anyone who dared to think he was a novelty act would have his mind forever changed when Jordan hefted his alto sax and blew sometimes all-too-brief solos.
Here are my Top 10 Louis Jordan tunes:
1. "Choo Choo Ch'Boogie"
2. "Five Guys Named Moe"
3. "Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens"
4. "Knock Me a Kiss"
5. "I'm Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town"
6. "Salt Pork West Virginia"
7. "Fire"
8. "Big Bess"
9. "Early in the Mornin'"
10. "Beans and Cornbread"
Favorite local jazz CDs, part 1
This list is not meant to be definitive. Rather, it's a highly subjective selection of some of my favorite local jazz recordings. Got some of your own? Send 'em to me via the blog or e-mail me at bobweinberg@mac.com. In the meantime, enjoy this first installment.
1. Abbey Rader and Noah Brandmark: Open Friends (Abray Productions, 2001). A series of challenging free-jazz duets between roiling, powerhouse drummer Rader and edgy yet toneful tenor saxophonist Brandmark, Open Friends always gets my pulse racing like a triple shot of espresso. Scabrously delicious.
2. David Liebman and Michael Gerber: Souls and Masters (Cactus, 1999). New York reed master Liebman teams up with South Florida pianist Gerber on a selection of distinctive melodies by Miami's Rhoda Averbach. Liebs' fanged soprano sax intertwines with Gerber's rich and soulful playing, evincing the emotional complexity of Averbach's compositions.
3. Keshavan Maslak and Katsuyuki Itakura: Excuse Me, Mr. Satie (Leo, 1994). Kenny Millions' evocative recording of tunes composed and inspired by Erik Satie remains one of my favorites of his vast discography. Switching among clarinet, soprano and tenor saxes, he and frequent pianist-collaborator Itakura mine the humor and pathos of Satie's works to both pay homage and comment on this most-subervise composer. "Excuse me for being boring," Millions intones on the piece by the same name at the close of the album. Clearly, that's one thing he'll never be accused of.
4. Marilynn Seits: Karmic Tribute (CMR Jazz, 2000). Although she's since left the area, West Palm Beach pianist Marilynn Seits recorded a superb solo piano album that pays tribute to her favorite composers. Gorgeous interpretations of music by Billy Strayhorn, Charles Mingus, Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett, Carla Bley and Steve Swallow display the breadth of influences upon which she draws.
5. Miami Saxophone Quartet: Take Four Giant Steps (Fourtitude, 2002). Comprising virtuosi saxophonists Gary Keller (soprano), Gary Lindsay (alto), Ed Calle (tenor) and Mike Brignola (baritone), the MSQ blew in like an ocean breeze on a stifling summer day with this wonderful recording. Lindsay's writing and arrangements are incredibly hip, particularly a dazzlingly fresh take on Coltrane's "Giant Steps."
1. Abbey Rader and Noah Brandmark: Open Friends (Abray Productions, 2001). A series of challenging free-jazz duets between roiling, powerhouse drummer Rader and edgy yet toneful tenor saxophonist Brandmark, Open Friends always gets my pulse racing like a triple shot of espresso. Scabrously delicious.
2. David Liebman and Michael Gerber: Souls and Masters (Cactus, 1999). New York reed master Liebman teams up with South Florida pianist Gerber on a selection of distinctive melodies by Miami's Rhoda Averbach. Liebs' fanged soprano sax intertwines with Gerber's rich and soulful playing, evincing the emotional complexity of Averbach's compositions.
3. Keshavan Maslak and Katsuyuki Itakura: Excuse Me, Mr. Satie (Leo, 1994). Kenny Millions' evocative recording of tunes composed and inspired by Erik Satie remains one of my favorites of his vast discography. Switching among clarinet, soprano and tenor saxes, he and frequent pianist-collaborator Itakura mine the humor and pathos of Satie's works to both pay homage and comment on this most-subervise composer. "Excuse me for being boring," Millions intones on the piece by the same name at the close of the album. Clearly, that's one thing he'll never be accused of.
4. Marilynn Seits: Karmic Tribute (CMR Jazz, 2000). Although she's since left the area, West Palm Beach pianist Marilynn Seits recorded a superb solo piano album that pays tribute to her favorite composers. Gorgeous interpretations of music by Billy Strayhorn, Charles Mingus, Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett, Carla Bley and Steve Swallow display the breadth of influences upon which she draws.
5. Miami Saxophone Quartet: Take Four Giant Steps (Fourtitude, 2002). Comprising virtuosi saxophonists Gary Keller (soprano), Gary Lindsay (alto), Ed Calle (tenor) and Mike Brignola (baritone), the MSQ blew in like an ocean breeze on a stifling summer day with this wonderful recording. Lindsay's writing and arrangements are incredibly hip, particularly a dazzlingly fresh take on Coltrane's "Giant Steps."
Thursday, July 3, 2008
One night slam at the Flickerlite
Apparently, the boys were missed. One of the Flickerlite's biggest weeknight crowds to ever elbow its way to the bar filled the Hollywood landmark last night for a chance to hear guitarist Michael Locke reunite with saxophonist "One Night Stan" Waldman on home turf. And these exceptional musicians didn't disappoint, keeping the place hopping way past midnight with thundering, horn-fueled Texas roadhouse-meets-Southside Chicago blues.
Bassist Reece Lincoln and drummer Mike Tate, who play with Locke back home in Ohio, laid down the snaky grooves and solid shuffles, as Locke launched into highly individualized renditions of classics by Freddie King, Junior Wells and John Lee Hooker, as well as some firebreathing originals. A version of King's instrumental "Hideway" served as a springboard to all kinds of improvisation, as Locke segued into several other tunes and then wound his way back. Same thing happened with Slim Harpo's "Scratch My Back," which showcased Locke's mastery of the idiom — he perfectly re-created the watery reverb and bumblebee sting of the original — as well as his dazzling creativity.
Waldman is simply a master of this style of blues, blowing one great tenor solo after another. His brawny tone is matched by a great sophistication and deep knowledge of the vital connections between blues and jazz, something he no doubt learned from observing Ira Sullivan for many years. A truly generous sort, Waldman welcomed a couple of protégés up to the stage (both named Anthony) to muscle up the horn section and add their own individual voices.
Locke introduced his original instrumental "Nitro" by saying he titled it after the greasiest cat he knows, a nod to San Francisco mentor Johnny Nitro, I assume, and that's just the way he and Waldman played it. The track also kicks off Locke's latest recording, The Lost Files, which is available at Michaellocke.net.
There were so many highlights to the evening, it's hard to pick just one, but I don't think anyone who stayed to the end of the final set will forget Locke's breathtaking solo encore. Pulling up a barstool, he proceeded to pick a lightning-fingered medley of Stevie Ray Vaughan instrumentals that concluded with a gorgeous, jazzy read of SRV's "Lenny," which made judicious use of the whammy bar to get that shivery sound.
A photo on a poster outside the Flickerlite showed Locke and Waldman from many years ago, grinning broadly and displaying the easy camaraderie of boyhood pals. As evidenced by last night's performance, their sheer joy of blowing the roof off remains undiminished.
Bassist Reece Lincoln and drummer Mike Tate, who play with Locke back home in Ohio, laid down the snaky grooves and solid shuffles, as Locke launched into highly individualized renditions of classics by Freddie King, Junior Wells and John Lee Hooker, as well as some firebreathing originals. A version of King's instrumental "Hideway" served as a springboard to all kinds of improvisation, as Locke segued into several other tunes and then wound his way back. Same thing happened with Slim Harpo's "Scratch My Back," which showcased Locke's mastery of the idiom — he perfectly re-created the watery reverb and bumblebee sting of the original — as well as his dazzling creativity.
Waldman is simply a master of this style of blues, blowing one great tenor solo after another. His brawny tone is matched by a great sophistication and deep knowledge of the vital connections between blues and jazz, something he no doubt learned from observing Ira Sullivan for many years. A truly generous sort, Waldman welcomed a couple of protégés up to the stage (both named Anthony) to muscle up the horn section and add their own individual voices.
Locke introduced his original instrumental "Nitro" by saying he titled it after the greasiest cat he knows, a nod to San Francisco mentor Johnny Nitro, I assume, and that's just the way he and Waldman played it. The track also kicks off Locke's latest recording, The Lost Files, which is available at Michaellocke.net.
There were so many highlights to the evening, it's hard to pick just one, but I don't think anyone who stayed to the end of the final set will forget Locke's breathtaking solo encore. Pulling up a barstool, he proceeded to pick a lightning-fingered medley of Stevie Ray Vaughan instrumentals that concluded with a gorgeous, jazzy read of SRV's "Lenny," which made judicious use of the whammy bar to get that shivery sound.
A photo on a poster outside the Flickerlite showed Locke and Waldman from many years ago, grinning broadly and displaying the easy camaraderie of boyhood pals. As evidenced by last night's performance, their sheer joy of blowing the roof off remains undiminished.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
When Locke came to town
First off, a big thank you to Sean Piccoli and the Sun-Sentinel for linking to BWJAZZANDBLUES.BLOGSPOT.COM. Please feel free to browse; we've got something for listeners of both kinds of music, you know, jazz AND blues.
If you're looking for something to do on this rainy Wednesday night, head for Capone's Flickerlite, as one Hollywood institution hosts a couple of other Hollywood institutions, namely Michael Locke and "One Night Stan" Waldman (both of whom, incidentally, should be institutionalized).
Longtime South Florida blues fans might recognize bandanna-sporting string-bender Locke and sax-blowing hipster Waldman from their band The Nightstalkers. Locke is a flame-throwing axman who never met a volume knob he couldn't coax past 11. Waldman, who operated the very-much-missed Hollywood nightspot One Night Stan's, boasts a big gritty sound inspired by greats such as Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons. Currently living in Southwest Ohio, Locke is finishing up the last leg of a Florida tour. Expect plenty of barbecued, Texas-style blues, as well as some jump-swing and Chicago shuffle, when the pair reunite from 8 p.m. to midnight at the Hollywood pizza place on the Intracoastal.
Owned and operated by the Capone family for more than 60 years, the Flickerlite makes a great pie and probably the best Italian beef sandwich I've had outside of Chicago. It's located at 1014 N. Ocean Drive. Call 954-922-4232 or visit Flickerlite.com.
If you're looking for something to do on this rainy Wednesday night, head for Capone's Flickerlite, as one Hollywood institution hosts a couple of other Hollywood institutions, namely Michael Locke and "One Night Stan" Waldman (both of whom, incidentally, should be institutionalized).
Longtime South Florida blues fans might recognize bandanna-sporting string-bender Locke and sax-blowing hipster Waldman from their band The Nightstalkers. Locke is a flame-throwing axman who never met a volume knob he couldn't coax past 11. Waldman, who operated the very-much-missed Hollywood nightspot One Night Stan's, boasts a big gritty sound inspired by greats such as Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons. Currently living in Southwest Ohio, Locke is finishing up the last leg of a Florida tour. Expect plenty of barbecued, Texas-style blues, as well as some jump-swing and Chicago shuffle, when the pair reunite from 8 p.m. to midnight at the Hollywood pizza place on the Intracoastal.
Owned and operated by the Capone family for more than 60 years, the Flickerlite makes a great pie and probably the best Italian beef sandwich I've had outside of Chicago. It's located at 1014 N. Ocean Drive. Call 954-922-4232 or visit Flickerlite.com.
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