Ramsey Lewis at Orchestra Hall: Concert review

When: Thursday, Aug. 13, 2009 • Where: Orchestra Hall • Who: Ramsey Lewis, piano; Larry Gray, bass; Leon Joyce Jr., drums. Opening set: Bruce Henry, vocals; Peter Vircks, saxophone; Bryan Nichols, piano; Chris Bates, bass; Daryl Boudreaux, percussion; Kevin Washington, drums. Host Irvin Mayfield.

Last night’s program at Orchestra Hall was billed as being all about the blues. It wasn’t, but nobody cared. Instead, the audience was treated to a sublime set of music by the Ramsey Lewis Trio.

Anyone who thinks this group is about resting on laurels, delivering hits, and playing it safe is mistaken. The music was as rich and sophisticated, melodic and complex, inside and out there as any I’ve heard in a long time.

The opener, “Wade in the Water,” became a sweet samba, with Joyce stroking his drums with his hands. The crowd applauded wildly and Lewis joked, “Shall we quit while we’re ahead?”

At 74, Lewis has embarked on what is almost a new career, or at least a new passion: composing. A series of commissions for the Joffrey Ballet and the Ravinia Festival, where Lewis serves as artistic director for jazz, has made him feel “like a kid on Christmas morning.” His new CD, Songs from the Heart, due out on Concord on Sept. 29, is his first-ever (out of 80 to date) to include all original compositions.

We heard “To Know Her Is to Love Her” (from the Joffrey work) and “Conversation,” written for Ravinia and performed there in 2008 by the Turtle Island String Quartet. The latter made me hold my breath, it was so beautiful—and much like a conversation, perhaps between lovers, with changes in mood and tempo. Another original, “Exhilaration,” showcased Gray on the bass, bowing like a classical master, plucking and tapping like an avant-garder. We heard a lot of arco (bowed) bass during the evening; Gray used his bow almost as much as he used his fingers.

Throughout, Lewis made occasional references to the blues, inviting us to “find where it is” in the music he was playing, reminding us that jazz was born in the blues. For the centerpiece of the set, he took us back to before the blues with a medley of gospel tunes and spirituals. Not the usual play-a-few-notes, awkward-pause, switch-tunes medley, but a lengthy, elegantly constructed series of phrases, whole songs, and variations within songs, linked together by improvisation, like pearls on a string. Between selections, as Lewis moved his fingers over the keys, you could almost hear him thinking “What next?”

I recognized “Just a Closer Walk with Thee,” “Precious Lord,” Ellington’s “Come Sunday,” “How Great Thou Art,” and (I think) “Lift Ev’ry Voice.” Lewis and Joyce traded melodic phrases (Joyce played notes on his drums, with help from his elbows) on the way to Joyce’s big solo of the night, a breathtaking display of speed, invention, and precision.

Except for the originals, much of this was music many of us had heard before, made new by surprising changes and phrases, rhythms and transitions. People talked afterward about how modern it was, how “outside,” and how it wasn’t what they expected.

We got the encore everyone wanted: “The ‘In’ Crowd.” A soft and lovely solo piano introduction worked its way there, the familiar chords burst forth, and the audience loved it. Joyce’s whistle midway through signaled a detour into an Afro-Cuban tempo.

If you’re going to have a huge hit, make it a good one, like “The ‘In’ Crowd” or “Take Five” or "Poinciana," and don’t get stuck singing “Muskrat Love” for the rest of your life.

For the last song of the night, Lewis finally gave us a classic blues tune: Jimmy Reed’s “Baby What You Want Me to Do.” (Hat tip to Dan Emerson for the title.) Which, as it happens, appears on Lewis's first-ever live album, Ramsey Lewis Live at the Savoy (1982).

A note on where we sat: We moved during intermission from a row midway down the main floor to empty seats on Tier B looking down at the stage. With help from my handy binocs, I could see everything: how Leon Joyce reached casually over his right shoulder to tap the inverted cymbal to his right, Larry Gray pressing the strings of his bass, the red felt lightning bolts inside the Steinway, Lewis’s hands on the keys. I thought the sound was better, too—it rose up to us from the monitors and the instruments themselves, rather than passing over and between hundreds of people

And I have to say that Lewis, Gray, and Joyce looked good. I mean really good All three were impeccably attired. Their posture was perfect, their stage presence professional. Handsome men. Lewis, the legend, great statesman of jazz, is 74? Don’t believe it. Skin like a baby.

Ramsey Lewis Trio Setlist
"Wade in the Water"
"To Know Her Is to Love Her"
"Conversation"
"Exhilaration"
"Spiritual Medley"
"The 'In' Crowd"
"Baby What You Want Me to Do"

Starting what I hope will be a regular thing at OH jazz shows, the evening began with an opening set by area musicians, led by soulful vocalist Bruce Henry, who now lives in Chicago but was here long enough to become part of our music scene (plus we’re not willing to let him go).

He and his band brought out the big crowd-pleasers: “Statesboro Blues” (“Wake up, mama, turn your lamp down low”), a lovely “Embraceable You” (nice solo, Chris), Henry’s composition “Jump That Broom,” and “House of the Rising Sun,” which Henry said he was inspired to sing by Nina Simone.

They were given half an hour—not long enough, even though Lewis and his trio were up next.

After last night’s “Broom,” Boudreaux needs a new washboard; he broke a leg on the one he had.

Thursday's musical feast

It is not decadent or greedy to see two or more live jazz performances on the same night. Jazz fans did it all the time on NYC's 52nd street back in the day, and musicians ran from gig to gig to play, sit in, or listen. Some nights it's possible to do it in downtown Minneapolis or St. Paul, and you can also go from city to city if you start early enough or stay out late enough.

Last night began at Orchestra Hall's outdoor Peavey Plaza with a free concert by Fat Kid Wednesdays: Michael Lewis on saxophones (tenor and alto), Adam Linz on bass, JT Bates on drums. The crowd was sizable, the beer cold, the music as intriguing and unpredictable as always with this trio. Looking worldly from his recent tour with Andrew Bird, during which he's been playing electric bass and singing, Lewis wore a new tattoo. FKW is (are?) at Cafe Maude tonight, at the Clown Lounge in the basement of the Turf Club on Monday.

At 7:30 we were inside Orchestra Hall for a concert by the Minnesota Orchestra and the Irvin Mayfield Quintet. With the charismatic Andrew Litton conducting (which tonight included jumping up and down, suit jacket flapping), we heard Gershwin's An American in Paris (which HH said sounds like music from The Simpsons--it does). We rarely hear the orchestra (so much jazz, so little time) and I had forgotten how delicious one can be--all those musicians and dynamics, that big instrumental voice. It was fun to see both Pete Whitman (who played last weekend at the AQ and returns there soon with his X-tet) and Dave Milne in the saxophone section.

Then the symphonic arrangement of Duke Ellington's Black, Brown and Beige, which Ellington called a "tonal parallel to the history of the American Negro." Dismissed by critics in 1943, now beloved, it includes the gorgeous and wistful "Come Sunday." The original is over 40 min. long; this shorter (18 min.) version is the one most often performed.

With the orchestra still on stage, Maestro Litton sat down at the piano to play Oscar Peterson's arrangement of "'Round Midnight." Litton told us how much he loves Peterson, that he probably owns 140 Peterson CDs, and that when asked "What's on your iPod?" he'll likely answer "All jazz and the occasional Ring Cycle." He was a classical musican playing a jazz arrangement, with great affection and skill. Afterward he joked, "It's so much easier when nobody's listening." (He played with a dislocated finger, injured in the Bahamas during a fall from a scooter and scheduled to be splinted for months.)

For the final piece before the intermission, trumpeter Irvin Mayfield, bass player Neal Caine, and drummer Adonis Rose joined the orchestra in an arrangement of "Over the Rainbow" that Litton commissioned during his tenure with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. (In Dallas, the trumpet part was played by Texas-born Roy Hargrove.)

After intermission, the focus of the concert: the world premiere of Mayfield's The Art of Passion, commissioned by the Minnesota Orchestra. Mayfield introduced it by talking about passion, how important it is, and how when passion is absent, resentment takes its place. He praised the orchestra as "the best distillment of love we do as humans." His quintet—which also included John Chin on piano and Ronald Westray on trombone—stood at front center stage with Maestro Litton behind them on his podium and the orchestra wrapped around them, like an embrace.

Through his music, Mayfield dealt with topics he cares about deeply: love, passion, truth, adventure. Sometimes the orchestra and the quintet played together, sometimes just the quintet, with lots of room for solos by individual members. The first part began and ended with a bass solo; the final part ended in a blaze of trumpet glory. The music was by turns thoughtful, beautiful, and lively. This was the first time it had been performed in public and the audience loved it.

We went from OH to the Dakota to see the final hour of the Jazz is NOW! NOWnet, the composer's forum led by Jeremy Walker. Bonus: it was Jeremy and Marsha's fourth anniversary--a good feeling in the room, with friends all around. I've seen the NOWnet several times and like this group very much. It's more-or-less the same six musicians, with the occasional variation due to someone being out of town or otherwise engaged. This time was Walker at the piano, Chris Thomson on tenor sax, Scott Fultz on alto sax, Kelly Rossum on trumpet, Jeff Brueske on bass, Kevin Washington on drums.

They sounded great, their music new and modern yet very approachable--it approaches you. I spent a few moments talking with Larry Englund (KFAI host and the man who books the Hat Trick Lounge), who said, "What I like about their music is there's so much space in it." He's right. Walker doesn't play a single extraneous or disposable note. No one in the NOWnet does. Another reason to like them, and to pay attention to what they have to say. Some of what we heard: "Summer Sunday Afternoon," "So Long New York," Walker's arrangement of Ellington's "New York City Blues," something brand-new, and the lovely, romantic "Dorothy and Robert," Fultz's homage to his grandparents.

As the NOWnet wrapped up, people began arriving from OH: Mayfield and his quintet, Maestro Litton and his wife, Lilly Schwartz (the reason Mayfield is artistic director of jazz at Orchestra Hall, a position that was recently renewed), audience members who had heard that Mayfield might perform at the Dakota, as has become his tradition when he plays OH. After the NOWnet left the stage, once the quintet had dined and relaxed, they gave us what we wanted: an impromptu late-night jam. Mayfield played and sang and laughed and joked. We heard more of the marvelous Chin. Rose, still wearing his OH stage clothes, kept his jacket buttoned. Caine and Westray let loose. It was glorious.

And it was all one night and into the morning.

Photos: Fat Kid Wednesdays; Michael Lewis.
NOWnet; Neal Caine and Irvin Mayfield; Mayfield Quintet by John Whiting.

Bobby McFerrin and Cantus: Bliss

When: Friday, Jan. 30, 2009 • Where: Orchestra Hall • Who: Bobby McFerrin and the singers of Cantus: Dashon Burton, Chris Foss, Eric Hopkins, Aaron Humble, Adam Reinwald, Paul Rudoi, Gary Ruschman, Shahzore Shah, Timothy C. Takach

Nine men in somber suits with the voices of angels; one man in jeans and a T-shirt, graying dreads knotted behind his head, his slight body holding a chorus, an orchestra, and the entire cast of The Wizard of Oz.

Playing to a capacity house (Orchestra Hall holds more than 2,000 people, and the concert was sold out—Tickets Wanted pleas were posted on Craigslist), Cantus, a full-time professional vocal ensemble (one of the few in the world), opened with a program of folk songs, pop songs, gospel, and McFerrin’s arrangement of the Twenty-third Psalm, dedicated to his mother, paraphrased, and with the pronouns changed: “The Lord is my shepherd, I have all that I need. She makes me to lie down in green meadows…She restores my soul.” Beautiful. Cantus is now on my list of go-see-agains, and if tenor Gary Ruschman wants to come to my house before then and sing a few songs I’m good with that.

Here’s Cantus performing the Twenty-third.



Then Cantus took chairs on either side of the stage and McFerrin came out like a child sauntering onto his own personal playground, which every stage in the world must be to him. He sat on a chair and performed several songs solo—if by solo you mean using his body and mouth as percussion instruments, singing multiple parts (melody, harmony, rhythm) at once, leaping (and landing) octaves and intervals, and roaming everywhere across his limitless vocal range. If you have never heard him, go to this page on his website and do what it says.

Audience participation is a big part of McFerrin’s shows. He had us singing along to silly stuff (the “Beverly Hillbillies” and “Peter Gunn” TV themes), serious stuff (Bach-Gounod’s “Ave Maria,” which a surprising number of people in the audience knew, over McFerrin’s own vocalese of Bach’s first Two-Part Invention), and improvised-in-the-moment stuff (he taught us to sing a particular note when he jumped up and down, then jumped sideways to lead us along the musical scale—think Tom Hanks in the movie Big—and before long we were singing a tune). He brought Judi Donaghy, a member of his interactive choral group Voicestra, up from the audience for a lovely version of “I Can See Clearly Now.” (See the P.S. below.) Then he asked Cantus to join him and played them like the instruments they are.

McFerrin didn’t sing his mega-hit “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” but he did sing Charles Chaplin’s “Smile.” He ended with his famous condensed version of The Wizard of Oz, which starts as a straightforward (for Bobby) version of “Over the Rainbow” (with audience participation), then segues into a 100-yard dash down the Yellow Brick Road through the whole movie, with McFerrin playing all the characters and sound effects. Watch a version here from the late 1980s. It’s hilarious, it’s virtuosic, it’s otherworldly.



They left the stage, we wanted McFerrin back, and he obliged—with the Mickey Mouse Club’s “Now It’s Time to Say Goodbye.” A perfect ending to a perfect night. Kudos to Orchestra Hall’s visionary Lilly Schwartz for pulling it together.

P.S. (added 2/5/09): Earlier that same day, McFerrin performed at McNally Smith College of Music. As he would at Orchestra Hall later that night, he called Judi Donaghy (the school's vocal chair) on stage. Here's something similar, not identical, to what we saw, within hours of when we saw it. You can also read the McNally Smith blog entry on McFerrin's visit and watch a student perform with him. (Thanks to Sydney Michaels for sending the link to the YouTube video.)

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!

The Dave Brubeck Quartet

When: 5/25/08
Where: Orchestra Hall
Who: Dave Brubeck (piano), Bobby Militello (alto saxophone and flute), Michael Moore (bass), Randy Jones (drums)

All day, the weather has been threatening; I've gotten frequent MyCast emails about tornado warnings and watches. About an hour before we leave home for Orchestra Hall, the town of Hugo northeast of the Twin Cities will be pounded.

I'm reminded of the last time I saw Brubeck in Minneapolis, on June 24, 2003. As we listened to the music, sirens wailed. On the way home we had to drive up an entrance ramp to the freeway (the wrong way) because an underpass ahead was flooded. Trees were down and power was out all around us.

Because of the weather today, and perhaps reminded of the weather five years ago, Brubeck dedicates the first part of his concert to...the weather. We hear "Gone with the Wind," "Stormy Weather," "On the Sunny Side of the Street," and "Over the Rainbow." Given Brubeck's many years of playing and his incalculably huge inner library of songs, he could probably play weather-related tunes for a week without repeating himself.



I recently listened to Time Out, so whenever Militello plays the sax, I can't help thinking of Paul Desmond. But when he plays the flute I'm here and now. I'm not normally a big fan of jazz flute but "Over the Rainbow" is an elegant arrangement of an old familiar tune and I like it very much.

Orchestra Hall seems packed to the rafters—sold out? It seems that everyone who didn't leave town for Memorial Day weekend is here. Why wouldn't they come to see an 88-year-old legend who's still composing, still performing, still influential? Being in his presence is a privilege and a pleasure.



I'm glad to be sitting in row 8 but I'm disappointed in the sound. Orchestra Hall hasn't yet figured out how to mike jazz performances. The Minnesota Orchestra sounds fantastic in this big, long box, but anything smaller is hit or miss. Tonight the piano is murky, the drums too loud, the saxophone too brassy, the bass very hard to hear unless Moore solos and even then it's faint.

Post-intermission: "Margie." A song I haven't heard for years. ("Margie, you've been my inspiration....") Such sweet swing. "My Fats," dedicated to Fats Waller. Brubeck smiles broadly during Militello's solo. On "Yesterdays," Brubeck's fingers fly across the keys on his solo opener; Militello plays like a 30-year-old.



Next, because it's Memorial Day weekend, the quartet plays a tune called "Weep No More," written by Brubeck in 1945 after the Battle of the Bulge ("I was there," he tells the crowd). It's solemn and beautiful, measured and deliberate, classical...are they also playing Bach? Jones uses mallets and his drums sound like distant thunder, or heavy fire.

No segue, no introduction, just a sudden rapturous lift-off into "Take Five," a song I could hear every day for the rest of my life and still enjoy. Militello has been part of Brubeck's quartet since 1982—26 years—so I guess I should get over Desmond. He tosses in a quote from "Blue Rondo a la Turk."

Two rows ahead of us, a young boy, maybe six or seven, bounces up and down in his seat in time to the music.

A single encore: a brief version of Brahms's Lullabye. Time to go. If we hurry, we can catch Gordy Johnson's final set at the Dakota.

Tribute to Louis Armstrong

When: 4/17/08
Where: Orchestra Hall
Who: Delfeayo Marsalis (trombone), Nicholas Payton (trumpet), Kermit Ruffins (trumpet and voice), Victor Goines (saxophone), Bill Charlap (piano), Reginald Veal (bass), Herlin Riley (drums); guest vocalist Charmin Michelle; narrator Phil Schaap

Go to a concert by a visiting jazz group or artist at Orchestra Hall these days and you're likely to see local musicians, even students, on the stage.

Before Marsalis and his band began to play, jazz historian and NYC deejay Phil Schaap introduced the High School of Performing Arts Jazz Band. Teen trumpeter Caleb Lockwood slicked down his pink Mohawk for the occasion and they all sounded great on "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" and "Savoy." A terrific opportunity for kids from an area charter school to play before a large crowd and meet an all-star band.



Maybe because this was my second narrated show within the same week (Beyond Category was the first), the Louis Armstrong tribute never quite clicked for me. Normally I enjoy hearing Schaap talk about jazz, but putting him to one side of the stage beside a big "Dr. Phil" sign and having him introduce each tune while pretending that Ruffins was Armstrong got old fast. (Ruffins didn't want to play along and eventually wandered off stage.) I understand that Ruffins was part of the show because he's a New Orleans legend and blows and sings Armstrong-style, but the band already had a great trumpeter, Nicholas Payton, and I wanted to see and hear more of him.



No complaints about the music—"Dippermouth Blues," "West End Blues," "The Sunny Side of the Street," Fats Waller's "Black and Blue," "Mack the Knife." Charmin Michelle did very well with "A Kiss to Build a Dream On," "That's My Desire," and "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans." She looked and sounded beautiful. (Marsalis called "Do You Know" the group's theme song.)



Throughout, the piano sounded muddy, which was too bad; I haven't heard Charlap play this style of music before and now I still haven't. People have said the Orchestra Hall Steinway is not a particularly good one. Dave Brubeck comes to play in May.

The high point of the evening arrived late in the second half, when Marsalis and Charlap played "What a Wonderful World" as a duo. Like "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," this song borders on the hackneyed. It seemed as though I was hearing it for the first time. Both musicians approached it with tenderness and affection.

The final tune was a Kermit Ruffins standard, "Skokiaan." There was an encore but we didn't stay for it.

High School of Performing Arts photo by John Whiting.

Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra: Do You Know What It Means Tour

When: 2/22/08
Where: Orchestra Hall and the Dakota
Who: Irvin Mayfield (artistic director, trumpet), Evan Christopher (alto saxophone, clarinet), Aaron Fletcher (alto saxophone), Ed Petersen (tenor saxophone), Derek Douget (tenor saxophone), Dan Oestriecher (baritone saxophone), Vince Gardner (trombone), Ron Westrey (trombone), Terrance Taplin (trombone), Barney Floyd (trumpet), Leon Brown (trumpet), Eric Lucero (trumpet), Maurice Brown (trumpet), Victor Atkins (piano), David Pulphus (bass), Adonis Rose (drums)

Irvin Mayfield is a man on a mission: making sure we don’t forget about New Orleans. His concert at Orchestra Hall with his New Orleans Jazz Orchestra begins with a short film about the birth of jazz in NOLA and ends with another about Hurricane Katrina and its devastating effects. In between, the music is wonderful.

Comparisons are inevitable between the jazz orchestra based in the Big Easy and another jazz orchestra based in the Big Apple, especially since both are led by trumpeters from New Orleans. But their music is different, as is the experience of hearing and seeing them live.

The first tune begins as a call-and-response; for a few measures, the whole band just breathes. They quote “Wade in the Water.” Mayfield plays the tambourine; Victor Atkins solos (it’s good to see Atkins again, and the deliciously named drummer Adonis Rose); Aaron Fletcher solos on his alto saxophone. All chant “Hold That Water,” a plea to the levee it did not hear.

Mayfield tells us how glad he is to be back in Minneapolis, “one of the best places in the world for jazz, with the exception of the weather.” He hasn’t been here since November 2004, the last time his former group Los Hombres Calientes (The Hot Guys) came to town.

The next tune is based on a phone conversation Mayfield heard with a 911 operator: “People in the city/Better get to higher ground.” It features a solo by bassist David Pulphus, and it’s great to hear a bass all by itself in this 2,500-seat hall. Vince Gardner takes a trombone solo. Everybody sings. Rose’s drums seem overmiked.

“Beat” is NOJO’s love letter to Cuba. “New Orleans and Cuba have a special connection,” Mayfield explains. “We consider ourselves our own third-world country, the tip of the Caribbean.” Atkins plays a Latin beat and all the horns either solo or duet; this tune brings forth some serious blowing. In terms of hotness and guyness, NOJO is doing fine.

Mayfield plays more to the audience than Marsalis does, and he wants more from us: our attention, our emotions, and our understanding that New Orleans is our national shame.

He dedicates the next song, “The Prayer,” to “the start of all great music in America: the church.” Atkins gives it that gospel feeling. Ed “Sweetheart” Peterson plays his tenor saxophone, Evan “The Ambassador” Christopher his clarinet. This far north, we don’t hear much clarinet. Mayfield reminds us that New Orleans takes it very seriously. For a tune I think is called “It’s a Creole Thing,” Christopher plays a big, sexy solo that closes by rising up and up.

For “All of Me,” Mayfield features Minneapolis native Leon “Chocolate” Brown, who sings and also plays trumpet in the band. Mayfield takes a moment to tell us about his own instrument, the spectacular Elysian Trumpet. Created in memory of Mayfield’s father, who died in Katrina, the hand-built, elaborately decorated horn is set with precious stones and finished with 24K gold.

The final tune, “May His Soul Rest in Peace,” is dedicated to all of the victims of the storm. The band plays while the screen behind them shows indelible images. Mayfield quotes “When the Saints Go Marching In” to close.

But it’s not quite over. One more tune, more upbeat—something by Ellington?—ends the evening. A young woman comes out of the wings and starts to play her saxophone. It’s Amber Woodhouse, a former member of the Dakota Combo, now a student at Berklee. I learn later that her family knows the Mayfields, and when Irvin found out Amber was in town, he invited her to join them on stage. It’s a thrill for everyone.

Mayfield has announced from the stage that he’ll head to the Dakota after the show to play the late night set. It’s worth the nearly two-hour wait to see them again. For part of the time, we’re treated to the sounds of fiery Cuban pianist Nachito Herrera and his group. When they pack up, their drummer, Kevin Washington, stays on—a good thing, because Adonis Rose skips the Dakota and NOJO needs a drummer.

The rest of the night (into the morning) is magical: loose, easy, joyful music, with band members entering and exiting the stage, standing around, sharing jokes, laughing. When it finally must end, Mayfield sings “Shoo Fly,” leads a dancing second line through the club, and chants “Do what you wanna! Stand on the corner!”

The NOJO Web site

Read Andrea Canter's profile of Amber Woodhouse on JazzInk. Scroll over Youth/Jazz Ed to the left, then down to Profiles of Young Artists.

Photos, top to bottom: Amber Woodhouse on stage with NOJO. Photo by John Whiting. NOJO at the Dakota with Kevin Washington on drums. Irvin Mayfield, Leon "Chocolate" Brown, and Evan Christopher.

Battleship Potemkin with the Minnesota Orchestra

When: 1/26/08
Where: Orchestra Hall
Who: Esa Heikkilä and the Minnesota Orchestra

Because I prefer my music on a smaller scale—jazz trios, chamber music recitals (exceptions: Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, Maria Schneider Orchestra, Dave Holland Big Band)—I mostly ignore the Minnesota Orchestra. Although I know the occasional Beethoven symphony would do me good, and everyone says Osmo Vänskä is an amazing conductor, it's not on my radar. And since the sound at Orchestra Hall is hit-or-miss for almost anything but the orchestra, I rarely go to the big box with the giant sugar-cube ceiling.

But lately interesting things are happening there. Jazz is heard more frequently, with more to come; starting in April, there's a mini-series called "Jazz at Orchestra Hall" and it's not Doc Severinsen. Another small series, "Sounds of Cinema," began last week with a screening of Charlie Chaplin's City Lights, with Vänskä and the orchestra performing Chaplin's original score. I didn't go but a friend did and she loved it.

"Sounds of Cinema" continued tonight with Sergei Eisenstein's The Battleship Potemkin (1925) and a score compiled from portions of Shostakovich's symphonies. The movie was projected onto a large screen at the back of the stage, the orchestra filled the stage (I forget how large orchestras are), and we were in the second row, where we couldn't read the subtitles without craning a bit but we could see every move the bass players made. Conductor Esa Heikkilä is a protégé of Vänskä; this was his first appearance here.

I had never seen the film Roger Ebert calls "one of the fundamental landmarks of cinema" (my bad) but I recognized iconic scenes, like the baby carriage careering down the Odessa steps. The music—parts of Shostakovich's Symphonies Nos. 4, 5, 8, 10, and 11, pieced together by Soviet musicologists in 1976—fit the film like 10-year-old Anastasia's white opera gloves. The performance was 90 minutes without an intermission, and the time raced by. It was entirely thrilling. It made me want to catch up on classic films (does that mean I have to stop watching Project Runway?) and buy season tickets to the orchestra.

The third and final "Sounds of Cinema" performance is called "To Boldly Go....," and it's hosted by George Takei, Star Trek's Dr. Sulu. Music from Star Wars, Close Encounters, Star Trek, and Holst's The Planets. That one I'll skip.

Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis

When: 1/21/08
Where: Orchestra Hall, Minneapolis
Who: Wynton Marsalis (music director, trumpet), Sean Jones, Ryan Kisor, Marcus Printup (trumpet), Vincent R. Gardner, Christopher Crenshaw, Elliot Maxon (trombone), Walter Blanding (tenor and soprano saxophones, clarinet), Victor Goines (tenor and soprano saxophones, clarinet and bass clarinet), Sherman Irby (saxophones), Ted Nash (alto and soprano saxophones, clarinet), Joe Temperley (baritone and soprano saxophones, bass clarinet), Dan Nimmer (piano), Carlos Henriquez) bass), Ali Jackson (drums)

They came, we saw, they conquered. On a snowy night of bad roads and big traffic delays, it seemed that almost every ticket holder in the sold-out house made it to Orchestra Hall to see the world-famous Wynton and his amazing ensemble: 15 musicians, each capable of leading his own group (which some already do).

The program, "Love Songs of Duke Ellington," began with a solo by Marsalis that slid smooth as silk into the whole band playing "Mood Indigo," which Marsalis dedicated to Manny Laureano, principal trumpet for the Minnesota Orchestra. From there, we were carried on a satisfying ride through Ellington's work, interspersed with anecdotes and banter from Marsalis.

We heard "Satin Doll" and "Lady Mac" from Such Sweet Thunder, Ellington's 12-part suite based on the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare ("Lady Mac" being Lady MacBeth). The Marsalis brothers are fond of both the Duke and the Bard. In June of last year, Delfeayo brought his octet to Orchestra Hall and performed Such Sweet Thunder in its entirety, the first time that had happened since 1956, when Ellington did it himself.

From there: "Prelude to a Kiss," "Moon Over Cuba," "In My Solitude," "Old Man Blues" ("a piece written for a movie called Check and Doublecheck," Marsalis explained. "It's a terrible movie, don't see it"), "Creole Love Call," "Dance in Love" from Ellington's Perfume Suite (performed on piano and bass, with the horn players snapping their fingers), "Warm Valley" and "Flaming Sword" (two sides of an Ellington 78 written about "the greatest duet, a man and a woman going steady," Marsalis said, and everyone laughed). The trombones used derby mutes, and it looked like choreography, a doo-wop group fancy-stepping.

The program was generous and easy on the ears: familiar melodies, rhythms you could tap your feet to, lots of opportunities for individual members of this great band to show off. (Sean Jones didn't solo much but when he did, it was blistering.) We heard "Self Portrait of the Bean," a song Ellington wrote for Coleman Hawkins; Marsalis asked Goines if he would "put some of his feeling on this tune," and Goines responded "I will, sir!" then gave us a sultry solo. Ted Nash took the spotlight on "I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart." They gave us a movement of the Queen's Suite, "The Single Petal of a Rose," with haunting bass clarinet, then ended with "Rockin' in Rhythm."

Some people left but the rest of us wouldn't so the band returned for a "C-Jam Blues" that was a concert in itself. The rhythm section took their places and everyone else lined up loosely along the front of the stage, passing solos like talking sticks. The music was so fine and the band looked so stylish and elegant that I wished everyone who doesn't like jazz or only likes smooth jazz or thinks jazz is dead could have been there. Marsalis has been accused of being too traditional, too strict about what he will and won't play, too bent on building a jazz repertoire, but he's bringing real jazz to a wider audience than anyone has since the days of swing.

Jazz at Lincoln Center

Photo by John Whiting.

Global Drum Project

10/27/07, Orchestra Hall: In his book Drumming at the Edge of Magic, Mickey Hart writes of meeting the 18-year-old son of legendary Indian tabla player Ustad Alla Rakha. "You and my son are of the same generation," Alla Rakha told Hart. "I know you will get along. You can play with each other, teach each other, become brothers of the drum."

That was in the late 1960s. Last night, the two brothers—Hart, former drummer with the Grateful Dead, and Zakir Hussain, now arguably the most famous tabla player in the world, a national treasure in his native India, and a prodigious artist who has worked with George Harrison, Ravi Shankar, Van Morrison, John McLaughlin and Shakti, as well as with Hart (their co-created, co-produced Planet Drum CD won the first Grammy award for world music, in 1992)—joined Nigeria's Sikiru Adepoju and Puerto Rico's Giovanni Hidalgo onstage at Orchestra Hall for an evening of what Hart calls "deep drumming." Adepoju and Hidalgo were also part of Planet Drum, so the Global Drum Project (the tour and the new CD of the same name) is a reunion.

Not everyone loved it; some people left almost immediately after the music began (were they expecting Osmo?), but the rest of us were richly rewarded with an ecstatic trance of rhythm and noise that lasted nearly two hours. The stage was filled with percussion instruments. At stage right, Hidalgo the conguero danced among congas, bongos, djembe, cymbals, bells, and gourds, playing most with his hands. Wearing a Golden Gophers T-shirt, Hart took center stage with his version of the trap set and beyond: something that looked like a xylophone, something that looked like a zither (and was played with a metal bar), and countless more objects he would pick up to beat, rub, stroke, shake, or sometimes just contemplate; percussionists seem to spend a lot of time considering what sound they want to make next, even during live performance. Hussain and Adepoju were at stage left, Hussain surrounded by his many tablas and other Indian instruments (including what looked like metal beaver tails), Adepoju holding his talking drum in his armpit. To Hart's left, behind Hussain and Adepoju, was a fifth man, Jonah Sharp, whose job, in Hart's words, was "computer enhancement and spectral processing." Both the CD and the live performance use digital technology and ambient electronics, looping and amplifying and manipulating the sounds of traditional acoustic instruments into something new and transformative.

The concert began with Hart and Hussain playing old-growth redwood roots Hart introduced as the Squid and the Double Dolphin. It ended with the two old friends playing side-by-side African balofons—xylophones with gourd resonators. In between was music made with sticks, brushes, hands, fists, skins, strings, wood, bamboo, metal, beads, rainsticks, hammers, mallets, broom, voice, and breath; Hussain's singing (tikatikatika) was another percussion instrument. It's hard to understand why some people left. Percussion is easy. After the voice, percussion must have been the first music, and the human body the first instrument. Denying the power of percussion seems like denying the power of one's own heartbeat.

Photos, top to bottom: Mickey Hart; Giovanni Hidalgo; Zakir Hussain, Sikiru Adepoju, and Jonah Sharp.