Brubeck Quartet smokes at Tanglewood Jazz

by Seth Rogovoy

LENOX, Mass., Sept. 1, 1996 -- Acknowledging a warm relationship with the area dating back to the early days of Music Inn in the 1950s, Dave Brubeck -- like James Taylor, another Music Inn veteran -- has now become an unofficial Tanglewood institution, performing at the jazz festival seemingly every other year. Judging from his concert on Saturday night at Seiji Ozawa Hall, it is not a relationship he takes for granted, since Brubeck and his quartet invested a selection of standards, favorites and originals with some surprising twists and turns. By the end, they had performed their most lively and daring show in years, proving that even at this late date the Dave Brubeck Quartet still has a lot to say.

Backed by Randy Jones on drums, Jack Six on bass and Bobby Militello on saxophone and flute, Brubeck kicked things off with "Blues For Newport," a jaunty, swinging piece featuring some heavy rhythms by Six and Jones and some stride-style playing by Brubeck, who though pencil-thin was a commanding, authoritative presence.

Brubeck began another tune by himself, playing some lush lines and chords that turned out to be "Georgia On My Mind." When the band kicked in, Militello took the lead on some bluesy, fluid soloing hovering atop a feathery bed of brushwork laid down by Jones and climbing scaffolding constructed by Six.

The ensemble followed with a perky rendition of Gershwin's "I Got Rhythm," with Brubeck's right hand dancing over a pedal point before Militello took off with some double-time arpeggios on sax. Brubeck then played one of his most abstracted solos of the night, with his right hand biting off phrases and seemingly looking for something he couldn't quite find while his left-hand was all staccato energy.

Brubeck turned more personal in his song selections with a tribute to his brother, Howard, playing his "Dialogues for Jazz Combo and Symphony Orchestra." It gave Brubeck the opportunity to strut his stuff on some more stately, romantic material, before the band joined in and improvised on the classical theme.

He then introduced a piece written for a grandaughter that was written so recently it was seemingly new to his band as well, which made it all the more exciting to hear them improvise on the rhythm and cadences of the name "Sarah Bateson Brubeck." The piece was a light and airy dance, and you could genuinely hear the name being referred to throughout Militello's totally improvised solo, which clearly impressed a visibly beaming Brubeck.

The quartet closed its first set with its classic "Blue Rondo a la Turk," which with its changing tempos, time signatures and styles anticipated so much of contemporary jazz by almost 40 years. Militello used his turn in the spotlight to play some honking R&B licks, and in his solo bassist Six apparently found a way to surprise a visibly astonished bandleader.

Returning after intermission, Brubeck offered an excerpt from his new mass, "To Hope," a responsorial section which quotes part of a psalm. Again, Brubeck generously offered a window on his compositional and improvisational method, and the phrase "The peace of Jerusalem" could be heard in everything from Jones' drumming to Six's bass.

On "Koto Song," Japan met the blues, with a shimmering intro by Brubeck. But the number was a showcase for Militello's flute, featuring bent notes, overtones and some virtuoso scatting while playing. Quite a feat.

"Unsquare Dance" was another of Brubeck's explorations of unconventional time signatures -- this one 7/4. The crew closed its set with Paul Desmond's "Take Five," given a robust treatment that saw Brubeck hammering two-handed, block chords against the rhythm and Jones taking a solo he seemingly didn't want to give back. A standing ovation brought the group back for a brief run through "Take the `A' Train." No jazz festival is complete without it.

Earlier in the day, singer/guitarist John Pizzarelli hosted an enchanting program featuring some cool, hip standards and a few originals. Pizzarelli, who models himself somewhat after Nat King Cole, was a charming, witty, irreverent performer. He makes the most of his small, reedy, slightly nasal voice, and he is an impressive guitarist, equally at ease playing staccato, single- note runs and block chording his way through a number.

Joined by his brother, Martin, on bass, and Ray Kennedy on piano, Pizzarelli began his set with a smoothly swinging "Avalon." He had a soft, childlike quality on his own, "Better Run Before It's Spring," and he was a groovy cat on "They Can't Take That Away From Me."

Pizzarelli injected plenty of comic material into his set, both verbally and musically -- he even offered a few measures of Peter Frampton's "Show Me the Way." But the highlight of his program was the gentle interplay between him and his father, guitarist Bucky Pizzarelli, who sat in with the group for about half the show. Pizzarelli pere's fat, buttery tone was in marked contrast to his son's sharp, angular attack, but they worked well together in a set that eschewed innovation in favor of nostalgia and sentimentality for a bygone era.

This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on Sept. 2, 1996.
Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1996. All rights reserved.


Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
music news, interviews, reviews, et al.

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