A three-day stretch of music that consistently gives fans something intriguing
to focus on? A program that's broad enough to sate a variety of interests
without losing its focus? An array of bookings that balances crowd-wooing stars
with skilled lesser-knowns? Curating multi-artist fests is a tough task, and
during the last 15 years or so, the Newport Jazz Festival has only occasionally
come close to achieving the above goals.
But the heavens were aligned this time 'round, and the Rolodex was spun with
both insight and ingenuity. Take a bow, Mr. Wein. Hats off, Mr. Jones. The 2002
edition of your much-vaunted festival, sponsored by JVC, probably couldn't be
improved upon. Tony Bennett and Ballin' the Jack? David S. Ware and Isaac
Hayes? Oleta Adams and Preservation Hall Jazz Band? Casual listeners (and from
the looks of things, that's who populates the Fort Adams stomping grounds each
August) are looking for a combination of breadth and quality, and this year, on
stages both large and small, there's nothing but, nothing but. Since we're so
tickled about this year's crop of talent, we thought we'd run down several of
the weekend's highlights.
The affair begins at the Tennis Hall of Fame on Friday night with Tony
Bennett. The era's preeminent vocalist, Bennett's muse has been good to him
lately. Many elder statesmen get by on their fans' appreciation of the past.
But the steadily giggin' singer sounds better than he ever has. It's all about
nuance. Guesting on pianist Bill Charlap's sublime Stardust (Blue Note),
Bennett inches through "I Get Along Without You (Very Well)" with a masterful
sense of drama. The word "profound" has a tendency to be overused these days,
but
at his best Bennett's vocal maneuvers can have an extraordinary impact. Last
summer, pushing his latest disc by dueting with k.d. lang on The Today
Show's Rockefeller Center stage, he sang a simple blues tune with enough
panache to make me sit up in bed and be wowed. It's about inflection: one
chilling phrase was a mere seven notes, but their placement was exquisite. In
an instance he turned something formulaic into something utterly singular.
Get ready to do a little zigzagging on Saturday & Sunday at Fort Adams.
Moving between the JVC Jazz Stage and the Mercedes-Benz Pavilion (the cozy,
covered setting off to the side) is a must is you want to sample the bounty.
First there's Sex Mob. Over the last few years this fractious foursome
has become one of New York's great bar bands. Led by slide trumpeter Steve
Bernstein, they've jump-started a trend that finds improvisers using an
off-the-cuff attitude to address pop tunes old and new. When the quartet places
Buffalo Springfield, Nirvana, and the Stones next to Armstrong, Ellington, and
the Art Ensemble, they do so with wit and wonder. "Ruby Tuesday" becomes a
dirge that accommodates shrieks and skronks. "For What It's Worth" bubbles and
rumbles until it overflows with molten ash. Their latest disc is an homage to
James Bond's world, but their most convincing record is called Solid
Sender. Short on finesse but long on amusement and musicianship, it
suggests that some kinds of panache can trump some kinds of polish, especially
when it's clobberin' time. The Cro-Magnon vibe of "Crazy Beat/Don't Be Cruel"
conjures an image of Krushchev's shoe being pounded on the table by Elvis.
Updating the spirit of Frank Zappa and Spike Jones, the Mobsters are a blast.
Greg Osby/b>
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Not completely divorced from this attitude is Ballin' the Jack, a band
that came together three years ago in the Tap Room of New York's famed Knitting
Factory. Comprised of modernist thirtysomethings, the group's music burrows
into the jungle band era of early Ellington, along with other cool composers of
the 1930s and '40s, such as John Kirby. The rambunctious razzmatazz of Benny
Goodman's "Seven Come Eleven" is a great example of the band's somewhat crazed,
always wily approach, and the Coleman Hawkins-penned title tune to their disc
The Big Head (Knitting Factory) gives you an idea how yesteryear's
bluesy stomps can populate tomorrow's funhouse. Imagination is the key: Straw
boss Matt Darriau has positioned his pals to make hay with any number of
prototypical swing tunes.
It should be intriguing to hear Ballin' the Jack in relationship to the
bedrock New Orleans brass ensemble, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. If
you've rambled through the city's French Quarter, then you've likely passed the
open-air barroom where some edition of the Preservationists have done their
thing for ages. The polyphony of ensemble playing -- something on which Ballin'
the Jack puts a modern spin -- has its origins in the way these elder statesmen
bob and weave around each other as the saints going marching in.
Speaking of bob and weave, the Dave Holland Quintet, one of the most
advanced small ensembles working these days, has found a way to simultaneously
maintain open conversations and still allow each individual voice to be heard.
It's done through arrangements. The renowned bassist-bandleader, who sops up
plenty of accolades in critic's polls, is an intricate designer of melody and
harmony. His recent Not For Nothin' (ECM) is thick with interaction, yet
open enough for masterful inside-outers such as tenor saxophonist Chris Potter
and trombonist Robin Eubanks to have plenty of open territory for their skilled
solos. In a time when players flit from band to band, Holland goes out of his
way to sustain his group's membership. Wise move: The group hasn't altered its
personnel in a few years, and their exquisite coordination is obvious from the
get-go.
Ballin' the Jack
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The notion of group unity is what makes Greg Osby's Quartet such a joy
to behold. The middle-aged alto saxophonist has a distinctive -- some say odd
-- way of scripting his original tunes, but because he has schooled several
younger players over the last decade, his music sounds both singular and
natural. I think that second designation is crucial when it comes to enjoying
jazz. Vanguard musicians often have keen ideas regarding composition or
instrumentation, but the craft needed to give the music its balance is missing.
Osby's a forward thinker who concocted a mildly peculiar funk-inflected
rhythmic schemata more than a decade ago, and then stayed in the lab until all
the rough spots were gone -- a heroic move, methinks. With younger buds Jason
Moran on piano and Stefon Harris on vibes, Osby makes his new Inner
Circle (Blue Note) a gripping forum for musical patterns both skewed and
straight. It's mysterious, compelling, and unusual. You never know what's
coming next.
Some bands simply like to work off-the-cuff, and Cos of Good Music, is
a Bill Cosby-led large ensemble that corrals a gaggle of greats to run through
a handful of Cosby's riff tunes. Jamaaladeen Tacuma, Craig Handy, Carlos Ward,
Dwayne Burno, James Williams, and others will speak to the power of purposeful
soloing rather than ensemble intricacy. Be on the lookout for Handy: he can be
a devastating tenor player.
When you're talking tenor attack, you're surely talking Michael
Brecker. The saxophonist is all about command: at the peak of one of his
inspired solos, his volition can be felt a mile away. He's part of the
Directions in Music group: an all-star ensemble that interprets tunes by Miles
Davis and John Coltrane. Along with Herbie Hancock and Roy Hargrove, Brecker
digs into the meaty fare with a sober, deliberate attitude. Their recent Verve
disc illustrated just how many musical variables jazz can incorporate at any
given millisecond and, having toured the festival circuit this summer, the
band's knack for milking intricacy can only have increased.
Two of the fest's other horn players have also made their mark on the tenor
sax. David S. Ware's infamous roar can blister his instrument's metal.
The last few times I've seen him, he has been captivating. Ware's foursome --
arguably the premier vanguard unit of the day -- has refined both its
aggression and dynamics. Their tumultuous approach, which accounts for the
fervent religiousness of Albert Ayler and the fierce eloquence of Coltrane, is
fascinating. Perhaps in true festival style, there will be a chance for
Sunday's other mammoth tenor stylist, James Carter, to share the stage
with Ware. Carter guests with trumpeter Nicholas Payton's quintet, and in that
realm he is bound to demonstrate the explosive antics and mind-boggling
technique that has made him famous.
Gospel-blues from the Holmes Brothers, turntablism from Kid Koala's
band Bullfrog, funkprov and jamitude from Karl Denson and
Isaac Hayes, two guys who know how to get their groove on, Afro-Cuban
rhythms from flutist Jane Bunnett, trumpeter-pianist Arturo
Sandoval, and the very cool Yerba Buena ensemble -- see, I told you
it had everything. Even Lea Delaria is on board. Who is she? According to one
self-proclamation, "a big bad-ass butch dyke who can sing the sweetest ballad
you ever heard."
Devour it all.
The JVCJazz Festival Newport takes place Friday through Sunday, August 9
through 11, at the International Tennis Hall of Fame and Fort Adams State Park.
Call 847-3700.
Issue Date: August 9 - 15, 2002
