As promised, some stills and vids from Friday night:

La Timbistica:

Chopteeth:

Fertile Ground:

…and the Chopteeth videos…

“Struggle“:

Nice horn bit:

Trouble viewing? Check out the YouTube versions here and here.

Winard Harper is the kind of drummer who can hold an audience rapt for five minutes with a two-stick high-hat solo. As you start applauding, or screaming, or whatever, you realize that this was just the intro, that the band is poised for a big entrance. Once the band is in, your jaw drops as you watch Harper hold a stick in his mouth while weaving byzantine rhythms with his foot and a single hand; the other hand is busy fixing the high-hat, out of which he’s spent several minutes kicking the shit. Finally, you lean back in your seat and exhale, reflecting that if you gave this guy a stick, a rock, and a horn section, he could lead most bands and still have one hand to spare.

The sad part: this was another woefully underattended concert. The Atlas is a good venue, comparatively intimate for an auditorium setting, but Saturday night went beyond intimate. “Small crowd, huh?” Harper laughed. “Let’s hope y’all know how to clap loud and fast.”

Still, the sub-50-percent capacity did little to dampen the spirits of the group. Harper is luminous in a trio—his accompaniment hard and tight, his brushwork impressionistic and masterful—but thoroughly unleashed once the full sextet is onstage. With fireworks on the tom-toms, he punctuates his players’ solos in all the right places, challenging them to match him flourish for flourish, and in his hands, a standard like Bobby Timmons‘ “Moanin’” becomes something else entirely—as he barrels through the four-beat swing, his hands blurring before your eyes, you can’t help but feel that the song will never be the same.

On tenor sax, Dayna Stevens has the hoarse smokiness of a low-range Paul Desmond, and his interchange with Bruce Harris (trumpet) is funky, sensitive, and graceful. The other players—Jon Notar on piano, D.C. native Ameen Saleem on bass, and Jean-Marie Collatin on assorted percussion—form a tight unit with a slick, easy response to the histrionic virtuosity of their leader. Also nice: the full dynamic range, even when down-tempo (cf. “I’ve Never Been in Love Before”).

They wound down the set with “All Praise Is to God” (a Harper original), “Tamisha” (a Saleem original), a piano-led “Amazing Grace,” Ruben Brown’s “Float Like a Butterfly” (not a bad tagline for this combo, come to think of it), and a few others that escape the memory.  There wasn’t a doubter in the house. But the house, after all, was small.

Review below; videos and photos forthcoming.

“The future of la musica is assured,” a beaming Jim Byers informed the 9:30 club on Friday night.

Byers, the host of WPFW’s “Latin Flavor,” spoke after a stellar performance by La Timbistica, a high-flying salsa outfit also known as the Berklee College of Music Latin Jazz All-Stars. The group alternates between five-piece Latin jazz unit and full-on Salsa band. In both formats, they are astonishing. Juan Maldonado deserves special mention for his efforts on the six-string bass, as does Kalani Trinidad for his searing flute (how often do you hear those two words together?) and fine voice, both of which cut admirably through the bright wall of the high brass. Throughout, the band exemplified a classical precision infused with lively improvisation—most notably by Alex Brown, whose eclectic work on the keyboard kept the band from retreating, anonymous, into a genre that too often overshadows its practitioners.

This was good, jazzy salsa, in other words…and consistently up-tempo, to the delight of the D.C. Casineros, who took over the dance floor and put the rest of the audience to shame.

***

The Timbistica crew were passing out promo materials and enjoying a few well-deserved beers when Chopteeth took the stage. The D.C.-based group, which calls itself an “Afrofunk orchestra,” launched into a groovy set that veered between the reedy guitar dance-lines of classic Fela Afrobeat and a sophisticated brand of ska. “Struggle,” the first track on their latest LP, was a highlight, as was their funky reinterpretation of Duke Ellington’s “Digeridoo.” Led by the magnanimous duo of Anna Mwalagho (vocals) and Michael Shereikis (vocals and guitar), Chopteeth bounced and rolled for close to an hour, with fat sounds from the Korg organ sailing under the snarling five-piece horn brigade. They smiled, danced, colored the two Kenyan songs with neat accordion lines, and took audience requests. (”The dancers want more Fela,” Shereikis laughed at one point.) Their set was the high point of a beautifully eclectic evening—kudos to the DEJF for espousing a “jazz without borders” mentality.

***

Fertile Ground closed out the night with a jazzier variety of what some people call “neo-soul.” With the caveat that this music usually strikes me as way too smooth, I have to say that Navasha Daya was mesmerizing as frontwoman, strutting under her headdress and leading the band as much with the rhythm of her hips as with her commanding, sinuous voice. “Yesterday” was powerful in its ambience, and “You Take Me Higher” (from the 2002 Seasons Change LP) took me pretty high. Daya can build a single syllable from a lyric for several bars and then launch into a weird scat, or an island-tinged rap, or a series of grace notes cued impeccably to the drum breaks, while James Collins‘ synth bass holds it all together. (His right hand, meanwhile, cooks up artful keyboard patterns with the same maddening rhythmic persistence that kept Chick Corea flush for several decades.)

“Jazz is not a listening music, but an organic music,” Collins told the modest crowd, chiding them to dance. “And since Duke Ellington’s from this neck of the woods, I’d hate to believe that the folks in Tokyo know how to move to this music better than y’all.

“It shouldn’t exist in the classroom,” he added, “but on the streets and in the minds of our children.”

Collins then kick-started a nice version of “Be Natural,” on which the crowd sang along, before a closing, anthemic but eerie rendition of “Roots, Rock, Reggae.” Synths aside, the groove had vitality. And the song, a tribute to cross-generic unity, may have struck the perfect coda for the evening.

Photo courtesy of chopteeth.com

1:20 PM
Taj Mahal isn’t a jazz man, of course, but a blues legend — and a powerful one. Put it this way: during “Annie Mae,” four songs into his guitar-drenched set, one of the speakers at the lip of the stage began smoking. The roadie who disconnected and hauled it off actually got an ovation from the crowd.

Even his blues, though, are constructed like jazz, especially in their draw from a variety of sources. He performed his work “Baby, You’re My Destiny” with a faint reggae beat, combined with a nasty Howlin’ Wolf croak in his voice. “Zanzibar,” meanwhile, was broader than the title indicates; it was a love song to all of Africa, backed with the Soweto grooves of South(ern) Africa.

For the last few songs, Mahal unexpectedly picked up, of all things, a banjo, mimicking the surprise of the audience: “Brother done pulled out a banjo! Lord have mercy! What he gonna do with it? Whatever it is, I’m outta here!” Just to drive the point home, he teased with a lick from “Dueling Banjos” (inevitable, but funny nonetheless), then launched into a feverish zydeco breakdown.

“Now we got that outta the way,” Mahal finally said, “We’re gonna play some blues with it.” He then proceeded into a burning urban blues in C, still on the banjo. Let’s hear Stevie Ray Vaughan do that.

2:30 PM
From amplified electric blues to amplified electric jazz: the fusion fix was courtesy of the Christian McBride quartet, featuring Geoffrey Keezer on electric piano and organ, Terreon Gully on drums, and Ron Blake on saxophone. (Blake, by the way, never sleeps; he’s a member of the Saturday Night Live band who confirmed to me that he worked the show this week before hightailing it to D.C.)

The bassist’s set was stacked with Zappa-like funk-rock-jazz workouts that came primarily from the quartet’s 2006 Live at Tonic album. It began with “Technicolor Nightmare,” psychedelic jam that McBride later referred to as “a Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin-y thing, and ended on a roaring cover of Weather Report’s “Boogie Woogie Waltz” that was heavy on Hammond organ and wah-wah bass.

McBride is the most revered bass player of his generation, equally at ease on upright acoustic or Fender electric. But the influence of bass god Jaco Pastorius was never so apparent as at this concert, with McBride zipping through super-fast, super-complex runs executed with crystalline precision a la Jaco. Yet another side of an enormously gifted musician.

4:00 PM
Trombonist Conrad Herwig is best known for the Latin Side project, which he brought with him to the mall. It’s a format that has given Afro-Caribbean interpretations to the compositions of Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Wayne Shorter, and, soon to be released, Herbie Hancock.

Thus, while his band sounded fantastic, it was a bit of a disappointment that he focused exclusively on the Miles and Trane albums — mostly Miles, and then the most obvious of his vast and deep catalogue. In one of many festival appearances, clarinetist Paquito D’Rivera (to whom Herwig referred as “our secret weapon-in-residence”) joined saxophonist Craig Handy and trumpeter Diego Urcola for salsified renditions of “So What” and “All Blues,” the two standards from jazz’s most ubiquitous album: Kind of Blue.

The arrangements were unique and fun to listen to, and the soloists were incredible, particularly Herwig’s virile legato and Handy’s street-tough swing. And there was a less done-to-death moment when they mined Coltrane’s “Lonnie’s Lament” (although Herwig did quote “A Love Supreme” quite extensively in his slow-drag solo). So if the material was a little underwhelming—how I would have loved to hear their version of Shorter’s “Night Dreamer”—the performances were more than satisfying. And in jazz, it’s the performance that counts.

5:45 PM
The first jazz record I fell in love with was Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things” (speaking of obvious), and in particular with McCoy Tyner’s ringing, heavy piano chords. The sound of them opening his set was an earful of warm nostalgia. That, of course, was before the sleek, blustery alto of Gary Bartz’s sax, which joined Tyner, bassist Gerald Cannon, and drummer Eric Kamau Gravatt for a set of dense, alluring music.

The only source of frustration in their short set was that Tyner only gave the title for one song: Ellington’s “In A Mellow Tone,” which is an instantly recognizable tune anyway. It was a cheery, raucous tune and performance that was markedly different from the intensity of the rest of the set. Tyner loves very thick, percussive piano chords, and the numbers the quartet played tended to start with a two-handed monsoon on the keyboard before the propulsion from the band came in.

Bartz tended to be the mitigating factor: he made his name in the late ’60s and early ’70s with some noisy, just-this-side-of-avant-garde records, but here there was a sweetness and sentiment that belied its powerhouse technique. Gravatt seemed a bit uncomfortable, being a large man whose stool was a few inches too far from the drum kit: he had to hop around a bit in his seat to reach the cymbals. By outward appearance, he didn’t quite have full control of the kit; by sound, forceful yet deliberate, nothing could be further from the truth.

(Note that although it wasn’t really reflected in the set, Tyner has a superlative new album called Guitars that features duets with five prime practitioners of most people’s favorite instrument. It’s also a great primer for his basic repertoire.)

7:00 PM
It was immediately clear when Dee Dee Bridgewater took the stage why she’d been saved for the close of the concert. Her head freshly shaved, Bridgewater looked incredible…and her very presence was electric. She brought her band of African and Latin musicians to support her on songs from her exquisite album Red Earth: A Malian Journey, and from the opening “Afro Blue” she was clearly energized and thrilled to be there.

It’s rare to see any performer who can command an audience that’s sat through six hours of music before her appearance - but we were Bridgewater’s willing slaves. She astonished with her rendition of Nina Simone’s “Four Women,” an ode to the strong black woman, with an unlikely mixture of rawness, sensuality, anger, and anguish. The performance reached its apex, however, when she brought out Kabine Kayoute, a traditional singer from Guinea, to duet with her. Kayoute possesses a versatile baritone that could move easily (as it did on “The Griots”) from a low rumble to a full-throated wail, an instrument that made graceful complement to Bridgewater’s clear alto as it moved from near whisper to sublime fluidity.

Make no mistake about the strength of the band. Bassist and musical director Ira Coleman had a fat-toned solo on “Four Women” that was packed with appealing double stops and nimble guitar-like licks. Pianist Edsel Gomez, meantime, added dimension to the closing African-flavored “Red Earth” with a boogie blues stomp. The real foil for Bridgewater, however, was Lansine Kouyate on balafon - an African marimba. He executed a maze of interlocking rhythms in the instrument’s hollow tones, often sounding like the world’s most complex wind chimes, Bridgewater the marrow for his round, open notes.

Bridgewater ended her set at 8:00, 30 minutes late. Nobody wanted to leave.

Tomorrow: Photos from the Mall.

Allow me to qualify myself.

Back in March I wrote a post about The Duke Ellington Orchestra when they were beginning a stand at Blues Alley. I pointed out that while it was a continuation of Ellington’s original organization, “nobody currently in the Duke Ellington Orchestra was there when it was Duke Ellington’s orchestra….Just something to take into account if you’re considering shelling out $37.75 per person, before Blues Alley’s hefty add-on fees, to see a “national treasure” you may not much recognize.”

Current orchestra trumpeter Kevin Bryan called me on this, pointing out that leader Barrie Lee Hall had been in Ellington’s band during the last several months of the iconic bandleader’s life, and tacitly challenged me to see the band. Fair complaints all around. And last night I got to see the Duke Ellington Orchestra’s current incarnation when they headlined the NEA Jazz Masters concert at the Lincoln Theatre.

I stand by the caveat that there’s a star power behind the name “The Duke Ellington Orchestra” - and there aren’t any Ellingtons in the orchestra at the moment. That said, what you do get when you buy a ticket to see them is a world-class big band ensemble and quite a few crackerjack soloists playing Ellington’s set pieces, using Ellington’s arrangement book and solid takes on his famous band members. They did a brilliant version of “The Mooche,” Hall bringing Bubber Miley’s growling plunger-mute trumpet back to life, asked vocalist Sharon Clark to sing “It Don’t Mean A Thing” and “Take the A-Train,” and brought clarinetist Paquito d’Rivera and DC sax legends Buck Hill and George Botts onstage for a wildly swinging version of “The C-Jam Blues.” The undisputed peak of the concert, however, found the band replicating the hauntingly quiet three-horn arrangement of “Mood Indigo,” the maestro’s breakthrough 1930 hit. (Actually, it was far more cunning than that. In front was the trombone/trumpet/clarinet arrangement from the original hit; behind them was the full-band arrangement Duke used in the ’50s; and pianist Tony James‘ intro was the melody from Thelonious Monk’s “Monk’s Mood.” Damned clever.)

Thus, while I still advise that you know who you’re seeing when you see the Duke Ellington Orchestra, I concede that it’s an uplifting, gratifying experience to hear the Duke’s music as the Duke played it. Go! See them! Have a great time!

I found myself wishing I had kids to take to it.

Saturday afternoon belongs to the festival’s Jazz ‘n Families Fun Day at the National Mall’s Sylvan Amphitheatre (behind the Washington Monument on the south side). From noon till 6 p.m., the Mall offers jazz events you can take the kids to: music for both adults and the little ones, plus food, drink, crafts, storytelling, and facepainting.

Esteemed drummer Winard Harper, who also plays the balafon (an African marimba-like instrument), is holding down the stage at the Atlas Performing Arts Center. He’ll be performing with a sextet that includes DC favorite Ameen Saleem on bass. That’s at 7:30 tonight, 1333 H Street NE. Tickets are $25 apiece.

Tonight’s main event is the NEA Jazz Masters Concert at the Lincoln Theatre at 8:00. The double bill features the current incarnation of the Duke Ellington Orchestra, with Paquito d’Rivera sitting in, and the DC Bass Choir featuring the legendary Christian McBride as special guest. The Lincoln Theatre is at the corner of 13th and U, next door to Ben’s Chili Bowl; tickets are $25.

There’s a movement (so to speak) of Israeli jazz musicians in New York, and clarinetist/saxophonist Anat Cohen is at the forefront of it: in addition to the instruments, she’s a prolific composer and owner of her own label (Anzic Records). All this meant she would be a formidable presence at the National Museum of Women in the Arts last night, but concertgoers actually ended up awestruck.

The concert featured Cohen’s quartet (pianist Jason Lindner, bassist Joe Martin, drummer Daniel Freedman) performing songs from her just-released Notes from the Village album. Alternating between her two axes, Cohen portrayed her different styles on each: the clarinet on Fats Waller’s “Jitterbug Waltz” was gleeful, relaxed, and rhythmically agile, but always with a hint of gravitas below the surface; on tenor sax (”J Blues”) she exerted a surprising amount of muscle, but was more intent on a strident conversational sound. The band stood her in good stead, too, particularly Lindner (whose big band album Live at the Jazz Gallery was by far the best of 2007). He veered from dreamy cascades on “Jitterbug Waltz” to sharp but wistful blues on “Until You’re In Love Again,” and even plucked the strings in a good impression of African mbira on “Washington Square Park.”

The extraordinary moment, however, came on the final song, the Cuban standard “Siboney”–when Cohen invited DEJF musical director Paquito d’Rivera to join her onstage. “He’s the reason I play clarinet,” she explained. “So, thanks dude.” Together they launched into a duet that became more of a mighty showdown: he played light, sprightly and high; she played mid-range, somewhat slower, and always with that somber edge. Their playing was a tangled network of calls-and-responses, thrust-and-parry, harmonies, unisons, counterpoints, and even a few setups and punchlines.

“Well,” said the emcee after the performance ended. “That was sort of unforgettable.” He was putting it mildly.

Jazz does better when it’s not Debate Night–this based on the enormous audience at the Sculpture Garden last night at 5:00, and they didn’t come for the food. This was a Frederic Yonnet crowd.

The French harmonica player has a fat, meaty sound with a bluesy edge and lots of chords, in contrast to the clean-but-shrill sound that usually characterizes jazz harmonica. Festival CEO Charlie Fishman introduced him as “the Mick Jagger of Harmonica” (Jagger actually plays harmonica, but never mind), and that somewhat odd description turned out to be dead on: playing covers of R&B artists past and present (Isaac Hayes‘ “Welcome Back,” Dionne Warwick’s “Walk On By,” Stevie Wonder’s “Visions”), Yonnet displayed the swagger and come-get-me attitude of the Rolling Stones, but also the lyricism that evokes the vocalists he’s saluting.

Which is a good thing, since the band was cheese. They were all more than proficient, mind you, but it was smooth-jazz: repetitive, groove-based, and bland. Not until their funky take on Al Jarreau’s “Use Me (’Til You Use Me Up)” (with singer Brandon Combs sitting in) did they show any teeth. But it didn’t matter: Yonnet was the show, and he delivered.