Maud Hixson at Cue

When: Friday, July 25 • Where: Cue at the Guthrie • Who: Maud Hixson, voice; Rick Carlson, piano; Steve Pikal, bass; Nathan Norman, drums

I write about Cue at the Guthrie for MinnPost and decide to experience it as anyone else might—eat dinner, drink wine, hear the music, not take notes. So I can’t tell you what Maud sang or her band played, just that the whole Cue thing is genuinely delightful. It’s a beautiful place that treats its guests well and also its performers, according to Maud and Arne Fogel, who are both regulars there.

Later I learn that Melissa Gilbert was sitting behind us; she’s starring in the Guthrie’s Little House on the Prairie musical, not as Laura Ingalls Wilder (the role she played in the TV series) but as Caroline “Ma” Ingalls. Advance ticket sales for Little House broke all previous records at the Guthrie and the run has been extended. I’m glad for them but you couldn’t drag me to that show in chains.

At Cue, we enjoy a Maud Hixson wine flight (we choose the “classic, soft, and sultry reds") and delicious food. Manager Jeffrey Fisher and sommelier Jessica Nielsen stop by to say hi. Maud and her band sound great and look wonderful against the backdrop of the floor-to-ceiling windows and darkening city sky.



Arne has since told me that jazz at Cue has been extended through December of this year. Long may it continue.
Photos by John Whiting.

Carei Thomas Gift Shop After Party

When: Thursday, July 24, 2008 • Where: Dakota • Who: Carei Thomas, composer/pianist, and many friends

We miss Carei Thomas’s 70th birthday tribute at the Walker but stick around the Dakota for the after party.

The Walker performance was called “Gift Shop,” a concept Thomas developed during his recovery from Guillain-Barre syndrome, when he began to reflect on the gifts of professionals and ordinary people. He told the Walker: “I see Gift Shops serving as energizing entities in the community whenever there is a need to reinforce the human spirit.”

Not everyone from the Walker comes to the Dakota, but we hear several performers in a series of configurations: Thomas, Brock Thorson, Steve Goldstein, Jimmy Thorson, John Devine, J. Otis Powell!, Tim DuRoche, George Cartwright, and many more.



First up, three saxes, just three saxes, and their strong, steady blowing clears the air for what is to come. J. Otis Powell! reads a poem about music accompanied by Carei Thomas on piano, Cartwright on sax, and drums. (Saxophonist Cartwright opens by saying “I would just like to say a couple things—there was a concern I might say too much,” then backing away from the mike. You can always count on Cartwright for a bit of dada.) J. Otis’s poem; in part:

music music music all is music
music music music all is life
music music music all is love

Thomas reminds us collectively that “We are not as bad as we think we are, nor as good as we sometimes boast.”

Then DuRoche on drums, Brock Thorson on bass, Steve Goldstein on laptop computer. Members of the poetry/jazz ensemble Ancestor Energy. (There's a group that needs a Web site or at least a MySpace page.) Someone plays the bassoon as if it were a bazooka. Sister Mary Harris plays and sings a song she wrote, “Where I Am Today.” Someone plays a midi saxophone (EWI?). The music is outside, free, improvised, sometimes melodic, sometimes in your face, not ever dull.

Toward the end of the night, oddly, a heckler arrives. “Back in my day, we played real instruments!” he shouts at Goldstein. And “Xbox! Whatever! I’ll get up there and show you some music! Whoa! Whee! Get the hook out!” Everyone ignores him.

Read Thomas’s description of his own career on Minnewiki.
Photos by John Whiting. (It’s still the first night of the Dakota’s new neon sign. My eyes! My eyes!) Top: Three saxes and more. Next: George Cartwright.

Robert Everest Expedition

When: Thursday, July 24 • Where: Dakota • Who: Robert Everest, guitars and voice; Mary Louise Knutson, piano; Gus Lindquist, trumpet; Dan Arlig, bass; Andy Arts, drums; Michael Bissonnette, percussion

We last saw Everest in June and return with friends who drive down from Harris for a night at the Dakota. Mary Louise was a special guest with the band last time and that worked so well she’s here for the whole show tonight.

Some songs are repeats of what we heard in June, some aren’t: “Corcovado” ("Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars"), a Neapolitan song titled “If You Love Me,” a fresh and swinging arrangement of “On the Street Where You Live,” the Oscar-winning song from the film Motorcycle Diaries (written by a Uruguayan composer), a merengue from the Dominican Republic called “Bubbles of Love,” and several originals. Mary Louise performs a lovely improvisation during “La Mer” that starts slowly and picks up fire and steam.

It’s a solid show that might benefit from a little less saxophone in the future.

P.S. If you have seen photos of the Dakota before, you might notice something new: the big, blue, blindingly bright neon sign at the back of the stage. Point a digital camera at it and your LCD screen starts pulsing. Look directly at it and the word "Dakota" glows yellow behind your eyelids. We're told a dimmer is being made. Hurry, little dimmer!

Photo by John Whiting.

Kevin Mahogany Sings Big Joe Turner

When: Wednesday, July 22, 2008 • Where: Dakota • Who: Kevin Mahogany, voice; the Godfathers of Groove (Reuben Wilson, Hammond B-3; Grant Green Jr., guitar; J.T. Lewis, drums); Kathy Kosins, guest vocals

We try to see Kevin Mahogany whenever he comes to town. There aren’t many male vocalists and his velvety baritone is delicious to hear.

The Joe Turner gig seems to be his thing right now; his main website hasn’t been updated since July 2007 and he has a newer Kansas City Revue site. In the Robert Altman film Kansas City, Mahogany plays a character based on Turner.

Tonight’s set, the last of four in their two-night Dakota stay, begins with the Godfathers (formerly the Masters of Groove) on their own. They make it sound and look so easy. (Throughout the evening, Grant Green Jr. is especially fun to watch, his face joyful and expressive.) Mahogany comes through the curtain and starts with “Times Getting’ Tougher than Tough” (“Things are getting rougher than rough/You know I make a lot of money but I keep on spendin’ the stuff”). He swings, he scats, he’s relaxed and easy and fine.

On “I Want a Little Girl to Call My Own,” the crooner becomes a belter, singing in his higher register with more of an edge. The velvet is back on “Teach Me Tonight.” Wilson’s B-3 makes that wonderful popping sound.



“I’d Rather Drink Muddy Water” turns into a scat-and-drums dialogue; Mahogany becomes a drum set, singing sticks and brushes, snare and cymbals. Lewis takes a long solo and the song transitions into “Every Day I’ve Got the Blues,” during which Kosins comes on stage. She scats, too. I enjoy hearing the two of them together. Mahogany exits and heads for the bar, leaving Kosins on stage to carry two or three tunes.

Mahogany returns for the close, praises his band (on Wilson and the B-3: “Taming that beast is not easy”), and gives us “Route 66” and “Since I Fell for You.” The first set ended with a rousing encore, but there’s no encore for the final set. Frankly, this crowd doesn’t deserve one.

There has been a weird vibe in the room for most of the set. It’s far from a full house and people have chosen to sit away from the stage; there’s no one up front, which Mahogany comments on and clearly doesn’t like. He tries to engage the crowd with patter and gets nowhere.

I’ve seen him before larger audiences, most recently with the JazzMN Big Band. Those were high-energy, generous, exciting shows. Some performers ignore their audience, some soldier on despite crowd noise or indifference, but some—including Mahogany—seem to need what an audience can give: respect, attention, enthusiasm, love. Hand him that and you’ll get a lot in return. Tonight’s crowd is flat, unresponsive, and lazy. Too bad for everyone.

Photos by John Whiting.

Anthony Cox, Chris Lomheim, Phil Hey

When: Saturday, July 19, 2008 • Where: Artists' Quarter • Who: Anthony Cox, bass; Chris Lomheim, piano; Phil Hey, drums

They begin with an upbeat melody that segues into something slow, dreamy, almost classical, a showcase for the bass with Cox bowing. Now Lomheim takes a solo and it’s sad and beautiful, like something out of an old movie, think Rebecca. It becomes more beautiful with each measure, then the bass walks, the tempo picks up and suddenly it’s “Caravan.”



Was the first part an introduction to the Ellington standard or is the trio just flowing from one tune to another? A brilliant solo from Hey, a few squeaks on a cymbal’s rim, and Cox takes the lead again, transitioning into maybe “Smile,” maybe “Laura,” maybe something else equally luscious and tender. Brushes on drums. It’s a jazz concerto. Nobody talks or calls out the tunes, it’s all melody and emotion.

Now "Squatty Roo" wrapped around “Rhythm-a-ning.” You can tell what a pleasure it is for them to play together, and how much they enjoy playing for us. “The Joint Is Jumping?” No, something else. Then “Alone Together.” Then "Marse," an original by Hey. (Thanks to Andrea Canter for tracking that one down, and "Squatty Roo," too.)



Afterward it's all a tuneful, cinematic blur. I don’t know what I have heard tonight and ask Don Berryman, a friend with a far greater knowledge of jazz than mine. He thinks it has mostly been standards in interesting arrangements. “Interesting” is an understatement. What a pleasure to see these musicians in this room, and how lucky for us they live in our midst.

Photos by John Whiting.

Chris Morrissey Quartet

When: Friday, July 18 • Where: Café Maude • Who: Chris Morrissey, bass; Bryan Nichols, piano; Chris Thomson, saxes; Dave King, drums

Dave King is playing at Maude? With Nichols and Thomson? Let’s go.

Who’s Chris Morrissey?

Turns out Morrissey wrote all the music the band plays tonight. I learn more from talking to his mom, who’s sitting with her good friend Mike Lewis’s mom, that he’s 27 years old, went to West Tonka High, played pop with people like Mason Jennings and Haley Bonar, has made the switch to jazz, and is recording a CD at Pachyderm in the woods of Cannon Falls (where the Bad Plus just finished their latest), after which he will move to NYC.

The crowd is yabbidy, the norm here, but a significant number of people are listening hard to the music, which is a bit Bad Plussy but with sax. Not much swing but lots of melody and energy, with big solos for everyone (including an especially nice one by Nichols at the start of the second set). Scott Fultz is in the house, as is Eric Fratzke of Happy Apple, celebrating his birthday.

The room fills with music. While performers at Maude usually end up playing background music for at least part of the evening, you never get the sense that’s what they’re here to do. They’re playing how they would normally play, not holding back, and when and if you decide to listen or the crowd thins, you’ll be rewarded.



The tunes are all originals so I haven’t heard them before but I like them. One is called “The Subprimes Claim Another.” The last is called “The Skinny Part of Idaho.”

Nichols tells us later that “Chris Morrissey is writing some of the hardest music in the Twin Cities.” I'm hoping there’s a CD release in the near future and it’s somewhere like the AQ or the Dakota.

• Morrissey has a MySpace page with no music. What's up with that? He’s letting a “guest blogger” called the Jazz Salamander write his MySpace blog. Meanwhile you can read some of his own older writings here. Nice.
• Photos by John Whiting. Like all photos taken at Maude without flash, they’re a bit…impressionistic. There was someone at Maude taking photos with flash and a tripod. He probably got some good ones, since he was going flashflashflashflashflashflash for much of the evening. We thought he was with the band but he wasn’t. In that case, what a jerk.

Robben Ford

When: Sunday, June 13, 2008 • Where: Dakota • Who: Robben Ford, voice and lead guitar; Travis Carlton, bass; Toss Panos, drums

Ford and Charlie Musselwhite share the billing tonight at the Dakota but never the stage (though early promos said they would do a set together, and they have performed together in the past). For the 7:00 show, we hear that Ford came on first, then Musselwhite. The 9:30 started with Musselwhite. Now it’s Ford.

Someone calls out “Rockin’ Robin!” and he says “Oh, please, not tonight.” The same boneheads keep requesting “Talk to Your Daughter” over and over throughout the evening. People, get a clue. He does not want to play that song.

The music is painfully and unnecessarily loud (thanks, Deborah, for the ear plugs, which will help to prevent me from becoming a stone-deaf old lady) but definitely rockin’. We hear “Lateral Climb,” about the problems of credit-card debt and the struggle to get ahead (“Try to make a little progress in what’s looking like a lateral climb/Put behind me my spendthrift ways”), “Don’t Deny Your Love,” “Prison of Love,” and “Riley B. King,” a tribute to “a king without a castle or a crown” and “a life sincerely lived,” written with Keb’ Mo’, someone I’m dying to hear live.

Ford tells us that his bassist is the son of Larry Carlton and “plays his ass off.” So does Panos in an impressive and thundering drum solo. So does Ford, switching guitars and giving us what I swear is a piece of “Smoke in the Water.”



It’s so loud! Arena rock loud! Even with the ear plugs! Dear Dakota, you have hosted the tender piano-key caresses of Gonzalo Rubalcaba and the soft-spoken ruminations of Patricia Barber. Can’t someone on the sound board notice the size of the room and keep it down just a bit? Bring on the blues, the fusion, even the rock, but stop trying to make my ears bleed.

Ford turns political with “Peace on My Mind.” “The call to war is blind man leading blind/Every day more and more I’ve got peace on my mind…. When fire meets fire, we burn away the common ground.” And ends with “Supernatural,” a beautiful song about being beautiful.

Photos by John Whiting.

Charlie Musselwhite

When: Sunday, July 13, 2008 • Where: Dakota • Who: Charlie Musselwhite, voice and harmonica; Matt Stubbs, lead guitar; Mike Phillips, electric bass; June Corr, drums

Rangy and seamed, looking older than his 64 years (something about a long battle with alcohol), Charlie Musselwhite steps through the curtain and turns the Dakota jazz club into a roadhouse.

Lanky girl, man, she’s long and tall
Sleeps in the kitchen with her feet out in the hall

The Dakota is booking more blues lately, which draws a different crowd but doesn’t sit well with some jazz fans. After the revelation that was Eric Bibb, I’m fine with it, and it helps keep the doors open.

Blues, why you worry me
Why you stay so long?
I used to drink to keep from worrying
Now I ride from town to town

Musselwhite has a metal briefcase full of harps. When he’s not playing he’s singing the blues through a big happy smile.

You know it ain’t right when you stay out all night long
I ain’t got nobody to carry my business on

With jazz, especially experimental jazz, you never know what will happen next. The blues has a form that’s as familiar as a sofa—line, repeat, new line. Because it’s repetitive, it can get a little trancey. So you listen differently, nod your head differently, tap your feet differently, and get into the story, most often a tale of heartache. Even in Brazil, where Musselwhite went to hear the blues and, he tells us, brought a little back, “they’re singing in Portuguese but if you translate they’re all singing ‘My baby left me.’ It’s a worldwide situation.”

Work hard in Chicago
Me and my boss couldn’t get along
All I got to show is muscle in my arm



“If I Should Have Bad Luck” hits me; it’s one of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard. The melody is bouncy but the lyrics are killer. Will love save him? What do you think?

If I should have bad luck a long long way from home
Honey I know your love will keep me going
Passing people’s houses on a dark and lonesome road
Look so cozy, places I can’t go…
I can see everybody’s people but I can’t see mine

Musselwhite's voice is low and rumbly, weary and knowing and conversational, and I love how he plays the harmonica, which speaks its own wild and expressive language. Thank you, Charlie, and John Hammond Jr., and Howard Levy, and dearest Toots Theilemans, for helping me to hear the harmonica, which I dismissed as a child’s instrument for years because I had one as a child.

Is “The Blues Overtook Me” a song about childhood depression, or about learning early what your path in life will be?

When I was a kid, early on my own
I took the highway to be my home
But the blues overtook me when I was a little child
You know fast women and whiskey made this lonesome boy wild

Later I read that Musselwhite has won a metal briefcase full of W.C. Handy awards and Grammy nominations. He went off the sauce in 1987 and he’s proud of that. “I’ve had people who’ve had problems with alcohol talk to me about quitting,” he says on his website, “and tell me that I inspired them to quit.”

The set ends with a slow and achey ballad, “a tune I recorded in 1966, still a good tune.” It begins with a harp solo and turns into a wordless story. I head into the lobby after to buy a CD and have it signed. There aren’t as many people out there as I expected, or as there should be.

Photos by John Whiting