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Newport Report

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Parent Issue
Day
12
Month
August
Year
1976
Copyright
Creative Commons (Attribution, Non-Commercial, Share-alike)
OCR Text

Newport Report

Two acts too man were jammed into the "Blues at Midnight" bill- the first musically compelling concert of the 30-event Newport in New York extravaganza- but from the moment Bobby Bland appeared, sauntering as though the stage were a boudoir, you knew something special was in the air. Looking 20 pounds trimmer than his last New York appearance, his mod suit and natural traded back for a pink shirt and processed voice, he was in magnificent voice. He was loose, witty, and liberated, exchanging light patter, conducting a hand-clapping routine, and singing with a luster he hasn't displayed in this city in years. Even in the '60s, Bland frequently performed as rigidly as a mannequin, every phrase and gesture in its proper place. Last week, he seemed renewed- l've never heard better performances of "l'll Take Care of You" and "Driftin'" His tempos were perfect, the band was a tightly rehearsed jump unit, and the set much too short. If his next record reflects what appeared to be a profound determinaron, rather than the machinations of ABC's hack arrangers, he may peak again. What a shame that white audiences still don't know who he is.

Fats Domino, too long absent from this area, crammed as many of his hits into half an hour as possible, and although he was practically gone before he started, his vitality and spirit- not to mention songs like "l'm Walkin'," "Let the Four Winds Blow," and "l'm Gonna Be a Wheel'-were as exhilarating as ever. Muddy Waters was energetic, although his band was uneven. His basically typical set was highlighted by a richly voiced "Sail On."

The more ambitious jazz programs began well with "Mingus Flamenco." Mingus's current quintet, with Danny Mixon on piano, and Ricky Ford on tenor, was augmented by alumnus Jimmy Knepper on trombone. Their set included "For Harry Carney," by Sy Johnson; Mingus's "Remember Rockefeller at Attica," a  lusty, jubilant piece that belies its title; and the mercurial "Sue's Changes." The climax of the concert was the union of dancers and musicians for "Ysabel's Table Dance," an excerpt from Mingus's epochal "Tia Juana Moods." It was a fascinating performance, during which the dancers gave the illusion of improvising- Sy Johnson assures me it was an illusion -and Mingus, Mixon, and Danny Richmond cut a few steps themselves.

The other special productions were less successful. Cannonball Adderley's "Big Man" was a mess; although Joe Williams tried to breathe life into John Henry, the appalling sound mix and open-rehearsal ambience defeated whatever potential the work may have. The "Tribute to Trane" was basically a repeat of a New York Jazz Repertory Company program of two years back. Elvin Jones's quartet played an invigorating set, highlighted by a Ryo Kowasaki guitar solo on Coltrane's "Acknowledgement," followed by a somnambulant meditation from McCoy Tyner's group. Both leaders joined the Repertory Company as Andrew White conducted his transcriptions of Coltrane solos. It was an impressive, even exciting feat, with a virtuosic White alto solo that seemed to terrify the other saxophonists on stage, but cohesion was intermittent and Jones and Tyner, who played nicely on "Giant Steps," seemed at sea.

The most exciting moment at Keith Jarrett's recital  was the temper tantrum he threw because of late arrivals at intermission. It had that certain emotional je ne sais quoi lacking in his music. Charlie Haden and saxophonist Jan Garbarek joined him, and a string ensemble plodded through a pretty melody so satisfied with its prettiness it had no place to go for the hour or so it lasted.

Certainly the most ambitious concerts were the four devoted to music composed and recorded by Duke Ellington between 1927 and 1943. Five orchestras appeared under the aegis of the New York Jazz Repertory Company- the EIlington Orchestra, directed by Mercer Ellington, two NYJRC units conducted by Dick Hyman, and one each conducted by Bob Wilber and Joe Newman. The most cogent criticism of the Repertory Company approach possible was provided at the first concert by Cootie Williams, who guested on a few of the '20s classics associated with trumpeters Bubber Miley, Jabo Smith, and himself. He played with such exquisite fire, finesse, and urgency that the rest of the band receded into the ether.

Cootie's magnificent performance reminded us that on the original recordings, every musician was an individualist, a vital contributor. Only when the NY] RC is able to operate like a symphony orchestra, with stable personnel performing regularly, will it be possible for it to produce musicians capable of mastering not merely the outer garments of styles created by Williams, Hodges, Nanton, Bigard, and the rest, but the strength and conviction that lay at the core of their conceptions.

Herbie Hancock led three bands: the Miles Davis quintet of the '60s, with Freddie Hubbard, who had played on most of Hancock's Blue Note recordings, replacing Miles; his first sextet; and the Headhunters, which made him a star. For the quintet, Tony Williams and Ron Carter electrified the band, as they did a decade ago, while Hubbard and a less extroverted Wayne Shorter coursed seamlessly through "Maiden Voyage," "Eye of the Hurricane," "Nefertiti,"and "Red Clay." I don't think it's much of an exaggeration to say that for some of us it was as exciting a reunion as a Beatles get-together would be for rock fans. It is a sad irony, one that has been repeated throughout jazz history, that this band is so much more enthralling than any of the bands its members are currently leading.

Hubbard performed later the same evening in a superbly invigorating set by Art Blakey, who can damn near shake the heavens. Hubbard played with vibrancy in every range of the horn, climaxing his solos with long stratospheric flights, every note articulated, every idea melodically transfigured: After several years of being bored by his CTI and Columbia recordings, it was like discovering anew that there is indeed a great trumpeter among us, a player with faultless technique and the taste to match. He also played brilliantly at the Midnight Jam- a benefit for John Gensel's Duke Ellington Center at St. Peter's, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk, who recently recovered from a crippling stroke- but everyone played well at the jam: It was the highlight of the festival.

Musicians who played typical or tinguished sets at other events surpassed themselves here. Even Sarah Vaughan, whose solo concert merited- despite the entirely unnecessary string section-all the superlatives l've used in the past three years, transcended herself, achieving a height that defied any logical response but gooseflesh. When Dizzy Gillespie joined her for a scintillating, ribald "Lover Man," Radio City froze with the tense expectancy of a maternity ward. The opening band included Illinois Jacquet and Harry Edison, piloted by the unexpected Count Basie, with improvised blues singing from Joe Williams; Bill Evans found a strength that has eluded him for years in the drumming of Elvin Jones, and they were joined by the always fascinating Lee Konitz and Wame Marsh. Finally, there was a loose limbed jam including both Blakey and Williams on drums- it was Blakey who propelled the band; Hinton and Duvivier on basses; Hancock on a genuine acoustic piano; plus Gillespie, Eddie Davis, Anthony Braxton, Sonny Stitt, Hubbard, and Jon Faddis, who played a good crazy-quilt solo made of Gillespie snippets. Rahsaan joined them on tenor, using an attachment that made it possible for him to overcome the partial paralysis and play the horn with one hand- but you wouldn't have known that just from listening. He responded to a 10-minute ovation- reminiscent of Newport's Newport days- with an unaccompanied solo.

There were other bright moments: Base's reunion band shouted and punched, and Jimmy Forrest's "Body and Soul" solo is always a delight; Frank Foster, an undependable player at times, was consistently on target at several events, including an after-hours jam at Storyville with Hubbard, Rahsaan, and Ron Carter; Benny Goodman conducted a sunny set, with creative contributions from Teddy Wilson and blistering work by Buddy Tate; Ted Curson provided a rousing climax at a concert that also included a halting, sinuous chamber piece by Anthony Braxton; Monk was in good, though somewhat retiring form-he need no longer apologize for using his son on drums, not that he ever did; Tal Farlow's return revealed why an older generation of guitar freaks holds him in awe; and a Roseland Dance and 52nd Street Fair have yet to take place as this is written.

It was a satisfying festival and its success should provide the basis for improving it next year. Here's my suggestion: The absence of any representatives of new jazz vitiated its impact; if these musicians can 't fill Carnegie Hall, then Wein should consider other rooms- City Center, Town Hall, Cami Hall, the Top of the Gate. Contemporary musicians must be brought under the Newport wing, if the event is to retain its integrity and a viable reputation as an annual summa for creative music.

1976 The Village Voice (New York City). Edited and reprinted with permission.