Jazz concert preview: Five years after Katrina, Los Hombres Calientes to reunite at Orchestra Hall

Originally published at MinnPost.com, Friday, Aug. 20, 2010

Irvin Mayfield (L) and Bill Summers

Los Hombres Calientes was living up to its name — the Hot Men — in 2005. A spicy gumbo of rhythms and sounds from New Orleans and Africa, the Caribbean and Brazil, the band had released its fifth CD, “Carnival,” in a series that combines infectious party tunes with ethnomusicology. It had toured and recorded around the world, won a Billboard Latin Music Award and earned a Grammy nomination. It was a huge hit each year at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, where it usually had the top-selling CD.

Co-led by trumpeter Irvin Mayfield and master percussionist Bill Summers, Los Hombres was a band with a future.

Then came Hurricane Katrina. Mayfield lost his father, Irvin Mayfield Sr. And Summers lost everything but his computer’s hard drive. Priorities changed.

On Saturday at Orchestra Hall, Los Hombres Calientes will perform for the first time since the storm. A concert earlier this year at the House of Blues New Orleans, a benefit for Haitian relief, was billed as a Los Hombres reunion. But as Mayfield told me earlier this week by phone from New Orleans, that was really “more Bill and I getting together. The one in Minneapolis is the first time the actual band is getting together.”

And, who knows, it may be the last. Since the storm, Summers and Mayfield have gone their separate ways. Summers, who began his career as one of Herbie Hancock’s Headhunters and went on to record and appear with a very long list of luminaries, is playing with his new band, Jazalsa, and running the Summers Multi Ethnic Institute of Arts. Mayfield is everywhere doing everything: leading his New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, running his own jazz club on Bourbon Street, heading the New Orleans Jazz Institute at the University of New Orleans, serving as the Minnesota Orchestra’s first artistic director of jazz.

A large fan base here

The Saturday concert is highly anticipated and nearly sold out. Over a series of appearances starting in 2000, just two years after the group was formed, Los Hombres built a large and enthusiastic fan base here, making annual treks to the old Dakota (in Bandana Square in St. Paul) and its current home on Nicollet Mall in Minneapolis. Mayfield credits the Twin Cities with breaking the group nationally.
Whose idea was the reunion? “I don’t know if I would say it was any one person’s idea,” Mayfield says. “It was the fans’ idea.” (Last year Mayfield told the New Orleans Times-Picayune, “Although I’ve done a lot, [Los Hombres Calientes] is the thing I am most known for. Around the world, wherever I am, people love that band.”)

Lilly Schwartz, the orchestra’s director of pops and special projects, “pushed to make it happen,” Mayfield says. “She put it on the schedule before we got it all together. So Bill and I decided we’d come back and do this one date. Outside of New Orleans, there’s no better place to do this music than Minneapolis.”

What was it like to play with Summers in February, after more than four years apart? “It set the stage for Bill and I to regain a mutual respect for what each of us brought to the table,” Mayfield says. “Bill is in that period of his career where he’s looking back. That’s typically not where I look at things from. Not that Bill isn’t still looking forward, but there’s 30 years difference between us. When we were co-leading a band, that’s where a lot of challenge came from. That’s also what created some of the magic.

“It’s one of those relationships where when we have agreements it’s beautiful, and when we have disagreements it’s crazy. All that was continuous through the years we were together as a band.”

Five CDs released from 1998 to 2005

We won’t hear anything brand-new on Saturday, but it won’t matter. The five CDs Los Hombres released from 1998-2005 comprise a wealth of exciting, polyrhythmic music. (Side note: All came out on Basin Street Records, which was hit hard by Katrina but survived.)

The first two, the eponymous debut (1998) and Volume 2 (1999), are full of reimagined standards and original compositions by Summers, Mayfield, and the group’s third founder and drummer at the time, Jason Marsalis. For Volumes 3-5, “New Congo Square” (2000), “Vodou Dance” (2003), and “Carnival” (2005), the band traveled to Brazil, the Dominican Republic, Jamaica, Cuba, Trinidad, and Haiti, learning from, playing with, and recording local musicians, connecting the sonic dots between the African diaspora and New Orleans. So there’s no shortage of material to draw from.

“Consider it a compilation performance,” Mayfield suggests. “All that music, all those islands, New Orleans, Brazil, Jamaica — so much music. We’ll play until it feels like time to stop.”

Over the years, Los Hombres was more a fluid project than a fixed band. Mayfield and Summers were the core, but other members came and went. Marsalis left in 2000 and was replaced by Horacio “El Negro” Hernandez, then Ricky Sebastian and Jamal Batiste. David Pulphus was the original bass player, followed by Edwin Livingston. Pianists included Victor Atkins and Ronald Markham. Plus, on the CDs, there were guests (Kermit Ruffins, Delfeayo Marsalis, John Boutte, Rebirth Brass Band, Mardi Gras Indians, members of Burning Spear) and field recordings of indigenous music.

The Minneapolis incarnation of Los Hombres Calientes will be almost all musicians who have played with the band in the past: Mayfield, Summers, and fellow Crescent City residents Aaron Fletcher on saxophone, Leon Brown on trumpet, Michael Watson on trombone, Ronald Markham on piano, and Jamal Batiste on drums. The exception: New York salsa star Ruben Rodriguez on bass.

The forecast: Hot.

Here’s “Fofori Fo Firi” from a live performance. And here’s a music video of “Vodou Hoodoo Babalu” from Basin Street.

Los Hombres Calientes, 8 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 21, Orchestra Hall,  ($22-$60 VIP). Tickets online or call 612-371-5656.

The night Elvis Costello met Minnesota Nasty

Considering we Minnesotans have a reputation for being over-the-top polite and accommodating (it's "Minnesota Nice," not "Iowa Nice" or "New Jersey Nice" or "Nevada Nice"), this true story from my friend Lilly Schwartz, director of pops and special projects for the Minnesota Orchestra, will raise a few eyebrows.

***
On Friday evening (July 3rd), I went with my colleague (and one of the Minnesota Orchestra’s conductors) Sarah Hicks to Origami for dinner. We were sitting at the sushi bar reminiscing about the time we had dinner at Origami with Elvis Costello a couple of years ago, after he had performed with the orchestra.

That occasion had been particularly fun, as we (Elvis and his band and a few Minnesota Orchestra folks) were the only ones in the otherwise closed restaurant. We ate lots of sushi, took photos, drank sake, and at some point during the evening Elvis signed a plaque for the Origami staff, which they have since hung with the many other famous signatures on their walls.

About twenty minutes after our Elvis conversation, I turned around, and to my amazement, there was Elvis. I said to Sarah, “Either I’m hallucinating, or Elvis Costello is standing at the door.” (When I lived in the tropics, we would have believed that we conjured Elvis up by talking about him, but here I knew it was pure coincidence. He would perform the next night at Taste of Minnesota, but I wasn't expecting to see him so soon.) Sarah turned, looked, and said, “Yep, that’s Elvis. Let’s go say hello.”

As we approached them and exchanged greetings, we realized that the staff was refusing to seat Costello and his four band members. The reason? "No room."

“But we called a half-hour ago and asked if we needed reservations, and you told us to come right in,” Elvis’ road manager, Robbie McCloud, was saying.

“Yea, well, obviously, we filled up,” answered the restaurant's general manager.

We could see a four-top open directly behind the host stand, which could easily have accommodated five. Also, Origami had closed its upstairs dining room not ten minutes prior to Elvis's party walking through the door.

Both Sarah and I were incensed.

"Do you know who this is?" we asked.

"We don't give preferential treatment to anyone," the manager said.

"But they called ahead to let you know they were coming, and you just closed your upstairs--couldn't you turn on a light and seat them? You clearly have the wait staff."

"No," said the manager.

“Well, guess that answers it,” Elvis said as he walked out the door.

"You are an idiot," I told the manager, "and I am embarrassed to be a resident of Minneapolis at this moment."

The sushi chefs were also mortified and insisted on paying for the sushi Sarah and I had eaten, which was very kind. Then the hostess gave us our check for our sake and appetizers, saying "This is your lucky day." Uh, not really. Witnessing rude behavior toward a musical icon is not what I call a lucky day.

Soon after, Elvis and his party were able to find a more hospitable spot for dinner, McCormick & Schmick's on Nicollet Mall. The next evening, after Elvis had performed at Taste of Minnesota in St. Paul, we were riding back to Minneapolis when I asked, “So, what’s the plan for dinner this evening?”

Elvis grinned and said, “Anybody up for Origami?”

Jazz jam, with Wynton

When: Saturday, March 7 • Where: Dakota

The Dakota jazz club and Orchestra Hall, home of the Minnesota Orchestra, have been in close geographical proximity since the Dakota moved from St. Paul to Minneapolis in late 2003, but they never had a relationship until Lilly Schwartz became the Orchestra’s director of pops and special projects. Ever since, artists performing at Orchestra Hall have made their way to the Dakota after shows to dine in the club’s restaurant and sometimes perform on its stage. So when the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra came to town, it was a given that at least some of the band members would stop by on Friday or Saturday, maybe both. And it was hoped that some of them would jam with the excellent trio hired for the late-night shows: pianist Bryan Nichols, bassist Adam Linz, drummer J.T. Bates.

We weren’t able to go to the late-night on Friday but heard later that trumpeter Sean Jones and other JLCO members performed—and that a local musician had engaged Jones in a cutting contest. As they say, poor bastard, and I don’t mean Jones.

We were there on Saturday and it was one for the jazz history books. We knew when Wynton Marsalis came into the club—everyone knew—but didn’t expect him to play. Then he stepped on stage and joined Nichols, Linz, and Bates for the first tune. When he stepped down, we thought that was all we would hear from him. More JLCO members played—bassist Carlos Henriquez, drummer Ali Jackson, trumpeters Freddie Hendrix and Ryan Kisor. Then the trio took a break, after which Marsalis returned with his own trio: pianist Dan Nimmer, Henriquez, Jackson.



For the next 20 minutes or so, the Dakota was the Village Vanguard, Blues Alley, and the House of Tribes. By now it was SRO—word had gotten out—and it was thrilling to be there. The last time Marsalis played a small club in the Twin Cities was October 2003, at the now-defunct Brilliant Corners in St. Paul. Tickets were $45. The Dakota charges $5 for its late-night sets. People who walked in off the street on Saturday out of curiosity, or because they had heard the Dakota had a late-night scene and wanted to check it out, got more than a bargain. They got a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

When the quartet finished, the jam didn’t end. Saxophonist Michael Lewis, home on break from his tour with Andrew Bird, came through the curtain and played a tune; so did saxophonist Chris Thomson. Drummer Kevin Washington took over for J.T. toward the end and filled the air with thunder. Marsalis stood by the side of the stage, nodding and smiling.



See also my Arts Arena post on MinnPost.com.
Photos by John Whiting. Top to bottom: Wynton Marsalis; Nimmer, Henriquez, Marsalis, Jackson; Nichols, Linz, Lewis, Washington, Thomson.

P.S. I asked Jeremy Walker, former proprietor of Brilliant Corners, what Marsalis and his group played during their set. His answer: "I believe it is a suite of tunes called 'The Magic Hour.' I know he played some of the material at Brilliant Corners way back when. If I remember right, it is a suite about getting the kids to bed so you can have quiet time with the special person in your life."

Sean Jones and DownBeat's Rising Stars

When: Thursday, June 26, 2008 • Where: Orchestra Hall • Who: Sean Jones, curator and trumpet; Jason Koransky, host; Jeremy Pelt, trumpet and flugelhorn; Greg Osby, saxophone; Marcus Strickland, saxophone, Wycliffe Gordon, trombone; Dave Stryker, guitar; Dan Nimmer, piano; Luques Curtis, bass; Obed Calvaire, drums



Koransky, editor of DownBeat magazine, introduces an all-star line-up with a five-horn frontline. I’m happy even before the music starts. Jones takes the first solo, Osby the second, Pelt the third while the rest of the musicians lay down a bed of sound for the soloists to jump up and down on.

Stryker’s “24 for Elvin” leads into an arrangement by Pelt of “Mack the Knife” that’s smooth as steel. A tune by Strickland (twin brother to Ravi Coltrane’s drummer E.J.) called “Sesame Street” is not the familiar Toots version. Strickland’s arrangement of “Over the Rainbow” makes an old song sound fresh. Everything we are hearing tonight, Jones tells us, was composed or arranged by one of the musicians on stage.



The music is wonderful, the musicians are stellar (these are all guys I would go to see in NYC), but the sound is murky and indistinct. At times I can’t even hear the rhythm section (piano, bass, drums). Is it the hall? I hope not, given the quantity (and quality) of jazz coming to Orchestra Hall within the next year. But this isn’t the first time I’ve felt the sound in the big box left something to be desired.

The second set kicks things up a notch. On Osby’s “Next Time Not,” Gordon’s trombone is double-muted and has a conversation with itself. The ballad of the evening, Ellington’s “In a Sentimental Mood,” is a knockout. It begins with a lovely solo of improvised thoughts by Jones, whose horn then climbs the six short steps to the high note:



The rhythm section comes in on the start of the second measure to set the beat, Pelt steps up with his flugelhorn, and suddenly I can hear every note each musician plays. Have we stumbled on the perfect jazz configuration for this hall—the quintet? Toward the end, during his closing solo, Pelt leans back and points his horn up and sends the sound into the farthest corners, like golden ribbons. Calvaire adds a roll with his mallets and they’re done. Perfection.



A final tune by Stryker is fast and tight; the drums are fierce and the horns ride up and down together. In the time-honored jazz tradition, the drummer takes a solo and the band goes out with a bang.

Earlier Jones took a moment to thank Lilly Schwartz, Orchestra Hall’s director of pops and presentations, for “having the vision to bring a group like this into a hall like this. It happens a lot in Europe but not here, and it’s about time, don’t you think?”

Photos by John Whiting. He was there as the official (if unpaid) Orchestra Hall photographer, and one of his photos was published in the September issue of DownBeat magazine. Yay John!