But I almost didn't make it. In a weekend that was filled with notable blunders such as my remembering that I forgot my house keys back in Modesto just as I was exiting the freeway in Downtown Oakland, and neglecting to print out the tickets for the show until 15 minutes before the show after searching for 30 minutes for a FedEx Kinko's, it was nice to be able to relax and enjoy the experience. Sure, I had definitely had my fill of jazz for the weekend with 2 trips to the Fillmore Jazz Festival in San Francisco, but this was different. Seeing Wynton after being at the festival was like sitting court side as Jordan dropped a double nickel on the Knicks at the Garden back in '95 after earlier in the day watching some 12 and Under AAU game at the local community college. You don't get the title of virtuoso by accident. Wynton is the real deal.
Initially, I thought it might be a letdown when the venue changed from the Mountain Winery in Saratoga to the Flint Center on the campus of De Anza College in Cupertino. Not only is the Mountain Winery one of the most wonderfully intimate outdoor venues known to man, with acoustics that are surprisingly second to none, but it's also the place that essentially was the birthplace of my love for jazz. It was in August of 1988 that I had the good fortune to see Miles Davis perform there and I've been hooked ever since. I got an email regarding the change about a week before the show and half thought about pursuing a refund. The message mentioned that "comparable" seats would be distributed upon your arrival at the Flint Center's box office. What's comparable to bleacher seats (i got the cheapest ones, so shoot me! Times are hard right now...) in a very expansive indoor theater? I thought for sure they'd seat me on the moon or something. Somehow, I ended up in the front row! I could literally hear the toe tapping of each of the musicians during each number. In fact, I could see their facial expressions and even queue in to the subtle gestures they made to one another during their sets.
Wynton was very understated, bringing out the best in all of his band mates much like his homeboy Chris Paul of the New Orleans Hornets might do. You knew that he could totally show out at any moment, but he did just enough to insure success. When necessary, he would embark on an impressive run, however brief, that would remind me that he indeed was the unnamed cornetist that displayed incredible skills behind the scenes in my favorite movie, as chronicled in my Destinations post awhile back. He assembled quite a collection of players for this tour. It would be more akin to Mr. Paul playing alongside the West All-Stars as there were some serious heavy hitters in each chair on that stage. I don't want to name them all, but Sherman Irby on the sax, Elliot Mason and Chris Crenshaw on the trombone (oh, you should've seen how he made it "wa-wa" with the mute on a tune called Holy Ghost!), Chris Enriquez on the bass were amazing all throughout the show. So talented in his own right was Shawn Jackson on the trumpet, that a couple times you could've closed your eyes and swore you were listening to Miles. Saxophonist Victor Goins took a solo on their cover of Coltrane's Giant Steps that made you wonder if the 'Trane had made a stop in the building.
Speaking of 'Trane, one of the most enjoyable things about the show were Wynton's musings between each number. If you've never had a chance to hear Wynton reflect on jazz, I implore you to check him out on the Ken Burns series or on the Jazz at Lincoln Center broadcasts on many jazz and Public Radio stations around the country.
He's a true historian of the craft and tells a wonderful story. Before the Giant Steps cover, he launched into this story about how when he was about 12 years old, he remembers a picture of John Coltrane (with Wynton's father Ellis and some other musicians) featured prominently in the living room of the self-described "old-country house in Kenner, LA" that he grew up in. "I didn't really know who he was, but I could tell by how the others were gathered around him in the picture that he was kind of important," he said from his seat on the stage, looking every bit as comfortable as your grandfather settling into his easy chair for a long story about days gone by."He was looking just as country as he wanted to in that picture, and so was everybody else," he said with a slight chuckle. "This [Giant Steps] was the first jazz song that I actually liked. I was always around a lot of jazz to that point, but I wasn't really 'listening', or really liking any of it."
The WOW factor here reminded me of my childhood, growing up with the Martin Luther King Jr. painting in my living room (yes, perhaps this was obligatory for the 1970's black household). Also there, however, was a painting of Tommy Smith (of '68 Olympics 200 Meter Gold Medal black glove fame) thrusting his black fist defiantly into the sky in Mexico City. Additionally, there were some photos of Smith in my backyard with my dad and my uncles, all classmates at San Jose State during that time. Thumbing through photo albums you might also catch a much younger and thinner Dr. Harry Edwards, once a Spartan power forward from East St. Louis. That was my childhood. But I digress. This was John William Coltrane. Love Supreme Coltrane. In a Sentimental Mood Coltrane. Yes, THAT guy.
I could go on and on about how amazing it was to be seated in the front row as Mr. Marsalis and friends played fast and furious and to hear his recollections as the rest of them caught their breath. It's getting late though, so I'll leave you with this parting thought. One of the last numbers they played before leaving the stage (all acknowledging and bowing in the direction of Bellson as they exited stage right...and, of course, eventually returning for an encore after we cheered on our feet for 2 minutes after they left) was a 1938 Duke Ellington tune called Braggin' in Brass. According to Wynton you'll be hard pressed to find this one on wax unless you've got an old 78rpm because it was rarely ever played and there are almost no known recordings of it available. They saved the best for last here, playing at a break neck pace that allowed each and every band member to show his metal (er...brass) at one point or another. Ali Jackson rapped at the drums like he was mad at them, while Dan the Piano Man was one part Bill Evans, 2 parts Wynton Kelly, a splash of Ahmad Jamal and everywhere in between. Marsalis, with rubber plunger mute in his left hand (even playing hurt! the middle finger on his left hand was heavily bandaged) made a startling Horton the Elephant sound at the appropriate intervals during one stretch of the song, adding to its intensity. The whole thing reminded me of one of those old cartoons as I could picture a jazz orchestra made up of various animals scrambling to get the notes out as fast as they could. A big grizzly bear in a pork pie hat strummed the bass while a big, bad wolf in a trench coat and shades played the coolest sax you ever saw. Some dapper aardvarks wearing bow-ties blurted out the horns with snouts extended, but then snatched them back just in time so as not to get caught in the trombones coming across from the side. All the while, a rather large eared beagle with cuff links slammed his paws on a piano whose keys would shift way to the right like an old typewriter and he'd have to reach way down to bring the register back at the end of each measure. What? You forgot who was writing this? I can get a little carried away sometimes and I watched alot of cartoons back in my day, back before there were talking sponges and underwater squirrels, but that's a story for another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment