Sam Rivers: An avant master awes UM

Sam Rivers talks pretty much like he plays. Ideas come fast and furious as the words tumble forth, and you get the sense that he's improvising a good deal of the presentation. Such was the case as the 85-year-old, Orlando-based avant-garde jazz icon gingerly took the stage Friday night at Gusman Concert Hall on the University of Miami campus and joined the Frost Concert Jazz Band in a raucous set of his big-band compositions. A bit winded, Rivers explained that he had recently fractured a hip and, while in the hospital, developed pneumonia which necessitates his use of a breathing tube, although the apparatus did not appear on stage. Nor did his condition, which seemed to improve as the performance wore on, keep him from issuing a torrent of humorous anecdotes, reminding one and all that his career not only encompassed stints with the greatest jazz figures of his time in both the avant and mainstream realms, but that he also shared stages with the likes of T-Bone Walker, B.B. King and even Jimi Hendrix (too bad no tapes exist of that matchup). Although he soloed infrequently, what he played was richly toned and masterful — especially on the soprano sax — if less forceful than in his heyday.

Under the direction of trombonist and educator Dante Luciani, the young musicians — all male — of the Concert Jazz Band were more than up to the task of playing Rivers' challenging charts. The maestro, who bopped, shimmied and mugged from his perch atop a wooden stool, truly seemed to enjoy hearing them interpreting and improvising on his music. Warming the stage for their guest, the band swung hard on a few numbers, joyously digging in on a handclapping, pew-shaking read of Don Rader's "Hallelujah Time." Best of all was a gorgeous version of Kenny Werner's "Compensation," which made use of a muted tonal palette that recalled the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band, for which it was written.

Living up to his rep as a spontaneous showman, Rivers had no intention of merely following the concert's printed program. In fact, the first tune he played, an absolutely stunning tenor-sax ballad, was one he had just written and it didn't even have a title yet. Apparently, he was able to run through it with the rhythm section, and pianist Dan Strange, guitarist Sam Petitti, bassist Josh Allen and drummer Danny Susnjar provided inspired support. The next piece, "Duke," an exuberant homage to Ellington, involved the full band and included ample room for solos, and was also nowhere to be found on the program, which proved pretty much useless as Rivers roamed where the muse took him.

A funky, sinewy piece titled "Vines" was inspired, said the saxophonist, by his amazement at how vines can grow on brick and concrete walls, and "Neptune," which he introduced with a humorous tale of keeping track of the planets now that Pluto has been downgraded, boasted a galactic vibe reminiscent of the space-travelin' Sun Ra. Of course, he had to play "Beatrice," the lovely composition he penned for his wife, who passed away three years ago. Rivers acknowledged that out of the many, many pieces he'd written over the decades, this was the only one that really made him any dough, as the lyrical melody has become something of a standard.

Rivers is truly one of the great figures of modern jazz. The Frost School is to be commended for honoring his legacy and giving its fine student musicians the opportunity to work with this one-of-a-kind artist.

Right on Q: Terry Adams' rock 'n' roll anarchy

Like the Marx Brothers on a mission of musical anarchy, Terry Adams and his Crazy Trio stormed the stage at Alligator Alley Saturday night, launching right into a hayseed-gone-haywire rendition of "Hey Good Lookin'" that combined the fractured bebop of Thelonious Monk with the sourmash hillbilly stomp of Hank Williams. Among the small but mighty crowd of NRBQ die-hards who had come to see the cult band's founding pianist, a way-jazzed Bonefish Johnny suggested the term "Thelonious Hank" to describe the tantalizing mashup.

Joined by original NRBQ drummer Tom Staley, who lives in St. Pete, Chicago-based vocalist and guitarist Scott Ligon and central Florida-based saxophonist Gene Oliveri, the idiosyncratic piano wildman slapped, pounded and caressed a pair of electric keyboards, and seamlessly traded off on vocals with Ligon, who played bass for most of the show. (And yes, even though the "trio" had four members, Adams proved he could count when the group gleefully launched into the Q classic "12 Bar Blues." ) The absence of guitar put the emphasis squarely on Adams' antic piano work, as he provided his own take on boogie-woogie, blues and honky-tonk, filtered through the avant-garde sensibilities of Monk and Sun Ra and performed with the elan of showmen like Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard. Oliveri hung fire on tenor and soprano saxes, peppering the proceedings with old-school rock 'n' roll bravado.

Staley's relaxed demeanor and seemingly effortless time-keeping belied his righteous snare-drum crack, while the sweet-voiced, baby-faced Ligon proved the perfect foil for Adams's Kentucky twang. The vocal pairing was particularly effective on NRBQ classics such as "Wacky Tobacky" and "Rain at the Drive-In," and the infectious new Adams gem "My Girl My Girl," which leads off his latest solo recording, Holy Tweet, also featuring Ligon. Also from the new album, they performed "Feet," an ode to a lovers' tootsies that somehow doesn't come across as freaky, and "Not Tonight, Hon," in which Adams screeches the familiar lament, "Not tonight, hon, I've got a headache!" Versions of "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone" and "When You're Smiling" captured a surreal early-jazz vibe, you know, back when the music was still dangerous and fun. Adams did actually play a Monk tune, but as Bonefish pointed out, just about everything he did started off as if he were going to launch into "Misterioso."

Although the now-defunct NRBQ boasts roots in Miami, having formed here in 1967, they split for points Northeast soon after. However, Adams is currently staying with friends in South Florida, and rumor has it, he may be looking to return to the area. A bit of luck for local rock 'n' roll fiends, if that means more shows like Saturday's.

Didn't they ramble? Dirty Dozen, Kermit Rufffins, Lil' Ed hit town

For the past few years, Hollywood Beach has done Mardi Gras right. Crescent City royalty including Dr. John, Allan Toussaint and Marcia Ball have all celebrated Fat Tuesday South Florida style, trading in the bustle of Bourbon Street for the roar of the surf. And this year's edition continued the good-time tradition, as The Dirty Dozen Brass Band and Kermit Ruffins capped the all-day beach party with spirited night-time performances.



• Helmed by the veteran front line of baritone saxophonist Roger Lewis (above), trumpeter Efrem Towns, tenor saxophonist Kevin Harris and trumpeter Gregory Davis, Dirty Dozen put on a signature set of rollicking brass-fueled New Orleans classics. With a festive and furry oversize hat shading his eyes, the cannonball-shaped Towns served as the merry master of revels, handling most of the vocals and even blowing two horns at once, one of which was the toy-size pocket trumpet favored by Don Cherry. Each musician took a turn in the spotlight, with Lewis consistently delivering the greasy goods on the bari, while tenorman Harris unleashed brawny yet sophisticated fills and solos. Trumpeter Davis also killed, while the big man, Julius McKee, held down the bottom end with his burping sousaphone. Of course, you can't do justice to tunes like "Mardi Gras in New Orleans" or "Big Chief" without a snap-tight rhythm section, and drummer Terrence Higgins laid down the parade-ground sound with snap and excitement, while guitarist Jake Eckert unspooled some razor-wire solos. Keeping still was not an option, as audience members dutifully shook their booties and grubbed for beads tossed from the stage; even the ocean seemed to be in on the act, as the wind churned the surf nearby.

• Unfortunately, the momentum faded as about 40 minutes elapsed between Dirty Dozen and Ruffins. A large portion of the audience wandered away, not exactly riveted by the shapely, hand-painted contestants vying for top prize on the neighboring black-light stage. When Ruffins and his quartet did take the stage, the crowd had dwindled, and the music was far more low-key than what Dirty Dozen had offered. No question, Ruffins is a top-flight musician and entertainer, blowing some beautiful solos on his trumpet and singing standards in an engaging voice. However, going from the full-on, high-octane brass assault of the Dozen to a more-sedate jazz-club set was kind of a letdown, at least as far as the energy level goes. In hindsight, event organizers should have reversed the order of the acts, and, while sometimes it's unavoidable, they need to keep in mind that long delays between performances are the ultimate buzz kills.




• There was no letdown — nor letup — when Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials hit the stage at The Back Room Friday night. Together now for 20 years, the Chicago blues vets kept the engine revving through two long and energetic sets. Lil' Ed Williams remains a marvel of kineticism, as he expertly worked his steely slide over the strings of a black Epiphone — a guitar he acquired in a swap with Back Room owner John Yurt — and sang in a hoarse baritone holler accompanied by the cartoonish expressions of his elastic features. While the crowded room and limited stage space didn't allow for much in the way of acrobatics, Williams did, at one point, stroll through the house, beaming broadly as he continued playing a typically fierce solo.

Crowned by his signature fez — a snazzy, red and gold-embroidered number — Williams performed tunes from his new album, Full Tilt, as well as a few Chicago blues classics. Among the latter, he offered up a boogeying rendition of J.B. Lenoir's "Mojo Boogie," (its lyrics, "I been to New Orleans and I sure had a wonderful time" perfectly suited to Mardi Gras week) on which he ripped some wicked slide licks on a cigar-box guitar. Another highlight was a terrific read of the tear-stained slow-blues "As the Years Go Passing By," although Williams' eye rolls and mugging were kind of distracting. But then, you could always choose to look at outstanding bassist James "Pookie" Young, Williams' half-brother, who seemed to really be feeling it; with his eyes squeezed shut, the big man appeared to be lost in reverie. Guitarist Michael Garrett and drummer Kelly Littlejohn were spot-on, as usual; hell, after 20 years, this band practically breathes as one. As many of the audience can attest — particularly the Ed Heads, who sport fezes of their own — Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials damn near guarantee that you'll leave whatever venue they're playing feeling better than you did when you walked in.