The summer of ‘98
by Seth Rogovoy

(WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass. Sept . 17, 1998) -- Before the summer of ’98 vanishes into hazy memory, we should take a moment to relive the highlights and bury the low-lights.

Jazz fans were unusually blessed this summer, not only with a relative surfeit of jazz shows but with some truly memorable ones. Looking back to the season opener at the National Music Center, the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra predicted the shape of things to come, jazz-wise, with a rousing, brilliant performance of classic Duke Ellington and contemporary Wynton Marsalis compositions. Whereas in the past this group has been respectfully staid, it seems to have grown into a genuine touring outfit -- a real band. You had the feeling that these guys really enjoyed playing together (and from the looks of it, goofing off together), but more than that, that the musicians are comfortable expressing themselves within the confines of the ensemble.

Nowhere was this more evident on the several Marsalis numbers the group assayed, especially the excerpt from his new suite, “Big Train,” a joyous, evocative romp through jazz styles and history. And Marsalis himself has never seemed so playful. We already knew he was smart, but he’s even smarter to allow his gleeful wit to take over when he’s performing.

Several performances at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Becket incorporated live or recorded jazz into the dance, notably the collaboration between Dianne McIntyre and Lester Bowie. The latter’s Brass Fantasy ensemble wove a mini-concert of its own into solo and ensemble pieces by McIntyre’s troupe, and the sight of the musicians improvising their own dance moves alongside McIntyre’s dancers was a breathtaking celebration of jazz freedom. And Bowie’s own playing was electrifying as always.

Back at the music center, August brought the David Grisman Quintet and Sonny Rollins to Lenox, the former with its signature blend of string-band, jazz-bluegrass fusion, and the latter with his architectural improvisations, muscular calpysos and sensual balladry.

While this year’s Tanglewood Jazz Festival was heavily weighted toward vocalists, that didn’t get in the way of one of the best displays of instrumental improvisation at Tanglewood in years. The Joe Lovano Quartet was on fire, playing with such emotional finesse and intellectual acuity that the musicians seemed to merge, as did singer Cassandra Wilson and her band, which weaved sultry, amber tones in and out of each other’s mix.

Country fans were also well-served this summer, if not quite with as nutritious a menu as jazz fans were offered. The music center’s ample country menu included country-pop singer Deana Carter, who seemed torn between her rootsy lineage and the demands of the Nashville marketplace for generic balladry. Retro honky-tonkers The Mavericks were likewise torn between their neo-hillbilly roots and their current noir-lounge experiments, which work well on record but fell flat in concert.

Zydeco performer Terrence Simien reportedly laissez le bon temps rouler at the foundation’s newly renovated small theater -- this reviewer took that night off seeking solace in the woods of Vermont -- and in his concert at the new venue, Michael Peterson was quite the fashion plate with his tight black jeans and T-shirt and hunky cowboy hat. Ride ‘em, pardner! Look out, Garth!

Seriously, for rootsy, country-based music, you couldn’t beat the lineup at this summer’s Noppet Hill Bluegrass Festival, which featured the Nashville Bluegrass Band, the Warrior River Boys, and the Del McCoury Band, easily one of the greatest bluegrass outfits in history boasting the man who is perhaps the music’s greatest singer ever. Indeed, any music’s greatest singer.

The summer got an early start in the Berkshires with the first of what hopefully will be an annual event at Noppet Hill Farm. The mid-June Berkshire Mountain Music Festival was supposed to present three days’ worth of the best in contemporary, groove-oriented music, as well as other performers in related genres including Los Lobos, Loudon Wainwright and Jennifer Kimball. Unfortunately, the festival coincided with a weekend’s worth of rains that matched a 60-year record according to some reports, turning the farm into a big pile of mud. Not that that seemed to dampen the spirits of those in attendance, but it did impinge on the promoter’s ability to present the sort of wide-ranging, all-encompassing family festival that was planned for the weekend.

Outside of the Labor Day weekend jazz festival, Tanglewood didn’t offer much in the way of popular music this summer, but what little there was was memorable. Ray Charles entertained over 16,000 fans on the Fourth of July, and he showed momentary glimpses of his soulful genius of yore. Perhaps spurred on by the presence of her old pal Jackson Browne (who actually contributed little excitement of his own), her new album or her stripped-down, four-piece band -- or because she’d just been freed from the shackles of Lilith Fair -- Bonnie Raitt put on the show of a lifetime in late August, at times rocking harder than perhaps anyone has rocked the shed since The Who’s legendary show in the ‘70s.

A couple of early-summer shows at the Saratoga (N.Y.) Performing Arts Center shouldn’t be forgotten. Post-modern popster Beck staged an intriguing if ultimately frustrating show, which perhaps relied too heavily on material he is set to release this fall. But Chrissie Hynde showed that there’s still life left in The Pretenders, and that her group’s rich catalog of material wears well with age, as does Hynde herself, who rocked and rolled with dignity befitting an elder stateswoman of her genre. Put her in the pantheon right next to Keith Richards in terms of the essence of rock cool.

And finally, a few dozen lucky souls experienced a transcendent, nearly magical night at the Dream Away Lodge in Becket in early August when the Milagro Saints came up from North Carolina and took over the joint for a night, bringing some ragged, beautiful and strange, Rolling Thunder-style energy and soul to the historic venue.

Which is but a long way of saying, what a great summer!

[This column originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on Sept. 17, 1998. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1998. All rights reserved.