Larry Coryell (5/12/01)
By Seth Rogovoy

(GREAT BARRINGTON, Mass., May 13, 2001) - Sometimes, and not often, a musician reaches a point in his career when he merges with his instrument, or even transcends it, when the point is not the instrument he is playing, but the music he is making, as directly as if he were singing it.

On the basis of his performance at Searles Castle on Saturday night, Larry Coryell has reached that point. While he is nominally a guitarist, and while he played electric guitar all night, that was besides the point. Instead, what the audience heard was Coryell "singing" through his instrument, direct and unmediated, in this month's installment of the unfortunately-named Rave Review music series.

While primarily known for his groundbreaking work in jazz-rock fusion and pop-jazz, Coryell and the band assembled for the occasion by musical director/pianist Robert Kelly played things straight-ahead, interpreting standards and classics by Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk and Milt Jackson, among others.

Coryell kicked things off with a relaxed, playful version of Jackson's "Bags' Groove." Picking strings with his thumb, Coryell dropped quarter and eighth notes with seemingly effortless aplomb. For the most part he left the band behind and went into his own space, except for an occasional acknowledgment of a cymbal blast by drummer Pete Putnam or a particularly funky run by bassist Dave Daddario.

Coryell ratcheted up the stakes with a giddy, hyper arrangement of "Autumn Leaves," which bore little resemblance to typically schmaltzy renditions of this tune. Instead, he allowed his rock inclinations free reign, and he introduced the tune with a flurry of notes that seemingly had nothing to do with the melody. He was playing on the chord changes, but his "Autumn Leaves" owed as much to surf guitar as anything. He threw arpeggios and other phrases against the solid beat, and at one point played a gorgeous sequence of triads up and down the neck of the guitar.

Coryell dedicated the ballad "Love Is Here to Stay" to the late Billy Higgins. He made extensive use of plucked triads on the tune, as well as ringing harmonics with an angelic, harp-like effect. Joe Henderson's "Inner Urge" was more complex, with modulations and key changes that challenged the band but not Coryell, who punched through the changes with single-note lines of blistering 16th notes.

His version of Thelonious Monk's "Trinkle Tinkle" showed that great music is as much about what isn't played as what is played, and that a well-placed pause or rest is as valuable as a great note. Kelly's solo on this piece, as on several others, clashed stylistically with what Coryell had stated, and lacked the guitarist's dynamic punch. It was noteworthy that when Coryell came out after intermission, it was minus the piano player, and the trio suddenly seemed lighter and more springy. Daddario's solo on this tune had more pop to it and Putnam's swing had more punch. But Kelly returned, and when Coryell went minimalist in a spare version of Ellington's "In a Sentimental Mood," Kelly sabotaged the number with one of his typical, overly effusive solos.

Coryell, however, was a literate, witty improviser, throwing a little "West Side Story" into "Bags' Groove," some "Flight of the Bumblebee" into the Monk, and some "Fool on the Hill" into a lush solo rendition of George Harrison's "Something." In the end, it was his recital, and a memorable one at that.

[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on May 16, 2001. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 2001. All rights reserved.]