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Towards festival’s end, Dee Dee Bridgewater performed her easier-does-it
charts with the fine Tivoli Big Band and Orchestra, outdoors in the
Gardens, disseminating musical goodness into many corners of the
sprawling compound.
But the most culturally and indigenously significant concert this year, if
not the greatest musical success, involved a certain historic Danish-
American connection. Danish trumpeter Palle Mikkelborg, who wrote the
moody and memorable work AURA for Miles Davis 25 years ago
(released as a two-disc album by Columbia in 1989), was commissioned
to revisit the extended composition with a fresh conceptual attitude. The
result, realized by a large and multi-limbed ensemble, was a strangely
uneven but ultimately intriguing suite. Many of the meeker passages were
laid out in the first half, including a goofy disco take on “What’s New,”
which brought to mind Herb Alpert more than late-era Davis. But the writing
got tougher, more complex and more evocative as the program progressed
and the sundry facets of the chamber ensemble-meets-big band
group were put to good use.
In that more muscular and enigmatic finale, we could, in fact, easily
imagine Davis’ sonic voice doing its artistic bidding. —Josef Woodard
Saxophonist Allen Slyly
Stretches Out at Vanguard
J.D. Allen
J.D. Allen sings on his tenor
saxophone. No hijinks, mind
games, bravado—just song,
lyrically intact and rhythmically
invigorating. In a nutshell,
that’s what Allen triumphantly
showcased on Aug. 12, the
second night of his weeklong
debut at New York’s Village
Vanguard with simpatico band
mates Gregg August on bass
and Rudy Royston on drums.
In an alluring 70-minute set,
Allen fluidly weaved through
14 tunes—all short, but pleasing
takes devoid of lengthy
wandering. This was in keeping
with his most recent trio
CD, Shine!, where the numbers
range from two minutes to just longer than five.
On the gleefully lopsided swing “Id,” introduced with a sly bow of
respect to Sigmund Freud, Allen bellowed with a fresh, danceable sensibility.
Throughout the set, he rarely overblew, even on the cooking “East
Boogie,” where he extended his solo, and on the upbeat “Titus” where he
sped through a torrent of tenor notes. Allen also avoided getting caught up
in a whirlwind of improvisation that would’ve lost bearing to the song.
Cases in point: the lyrical meditation “Se’Lah” and the reflective, hushed
cover of the standard “Stardust,” which was a showstopper in its quiet
beauty.
When Allen slipped out of the spotlight, he crouched in the shadows at
the back of the stage near the velvet curtains and comped for August’s
closely imagined solos. Royston was spotlighted on “Conjuration Of
Angels” (composed by Butch Morris) where his spanked and rolling
rhythms drove the proceedings.
Mainstream jazz sometimes cloaks itself with esotericism, but Allen
steered clear of that at the Vanguard. He chose an organic path where he
became engaged, had his say—stretching economically and to the point—
then slid out. It wasn’t that he didn’t have much to express; it’s more that
Allen spread his expression across the set in a multitude of songs versus an
immature—or insecure—saxist blowing his wad on boring multiple-chorus
exhibitionism.
—Dan Ouellette
JOHN ROGERS/WGBO
November 2009 DOWNBEAT 21