THE ODD COUPLE

I’m glad you decided to stick around. It’s passed 2:00am. My blog is usually closed for the night, but it’s not often I get the opportunity to chat face to face with a living icon. Mr. Nelson the next round is on the house. By the way, who convinced you to collaboration with trumpeter Wynton Marsalis? Kudos to the individual or committee who felt this collaboration would fly.

You have to admit, it was a risky venture. You and Wynton are from different corners of the music world. You’re a Country and Western legend, and Wynton is a polished jazz traditionalist.

I was hesitant about purchasing Two Men with the Blues. I’m familiar with Wynton track record, but I’m unfamiliar with yours. That’s wasn’t the reason I was reluctant. I didn’t think you guys would click. I was wrong.

Yesterday, I gave Two Men with the Blues my undivided attention. This album could be classified as a Blues oriented jam session led by two uninhibited pros. It was recorded live at the Lincoln Center, but it could’ve taken place in an after hours dive. You showed up with your acoustic guitar in tow, and Wynton with his trumpet. Before you guys began the session, Wynton removed his suit jacket and loosened his necktie. You hung up your cowboy hat, and slipped off your boots.

Wynton kicked things off, doodling with the melody to Bright Lights Big City, altering some chords here and there. You chimed right in. Barefooted you sort of strolled through Stardust and Ain’t Nobody’s Business. On Night Life and Georgia on My Mind you spilled your guts.

Throughout this album you guys reminisced. Mr. Nelson Isn’t the Blues about unburdening yourself? Two Men with the Blues wasn’t just a bunch of bellyaching. Overall, the album worked. You look as if you’re really to leave. Before you split, have another round on the house.

'HEY, MOM LOOK AT ME!'

Keyboardist Gerard Gibbs It was supposed to be Christian McBride’s official introduction to Detroit’s jazz community, a two set performance held at the legendary jazz club Baker’s Keyboard Lounge, but the bassist was upstage by keyboardist Gerard Gibbs. Gibbs' trio accompanied McBride. Someone should've had a pep talk with Gibbs for the gig began, informing the keyboardist that McBride was the star. And it would be appreciated if he refrained from his customary antics.

The keyboardist, a notorious show-boater, spent the greater part of the first set acting a fool and man-handling his instrument. On the opening selection, Gibbs went straight into his usual hey-mom-look-at-me act. This was pretty much his attitude during the first set.

McBride, a seasoned bandleader, couldn’t humble Gibbs. McBride spent most of the set trying to reel Gibbs back on track. McBride couldn’t contain the annoying ball-hog. McBride gave up and went with the flow.

When McBride found the space, he solos were short and sweet. At one point, the band cleared the stage so McBride could play alone. The ballad he played was so heartfelt it could’ve made the devil cry. The capacity crowd finally got the chance for a brief moment to experience the wonderful bassist uninterrupted. As the guys returned to the stage, Gibbs yelled to the audience: “Aw that was pretty”. Again he averted the attention to himself.

Gibbs is so selfish he didn’t allow the bassist to enjoy the spotlight. Gibbs returned to whipping the piano as if he was mad at it. Even his drummer, Jabari, (he doesn’t use his surname) wearing a suede cowboy hat and matching cowboy boots on one of the humid nights of the year, ventured into show-boat mode, banging away like he was auditioning for a heavy metal band.

The only member of Gibbs’ trio who bonded with McBride was guitarist Perry Hughes. With his black cap turned backward, Hughes set on a stool and cruised through the set. For some reason, he didn’t a take solo.

Thanks to Gibbs antics the audience didn’t get a chance to experience all McBride has to offer, and to give him the welcome he so deserves.

BREAKING THE BAND

Trombonist Vincent Chandler Dear Vincent,

I’m writing this blog to express the hurt I felt when I heard Urban Transport broke up. I know it’s been nearly one year now, and that’s a long time to keep my feelings about the band’s separation bottled up, but I could never find the right combination of words to express my hurt. I wondered why you, alto saxophonist Dean Moore, drummer Sean Dobbins, and bassist Yusef Deas decided to stop performing together. You guys were so compatible.

Urban Transport was my favorite Detroit based jazz band. I thought the group would stay together forever. You guys put in a lot of man hours perfecting the quintet’s sound. I can’t think of one jazz band from Detroit that only performed original music.

You always wanted Urban Transport to be taken seriously. I still think about the reception the quintet got at the 2005 Detroit International Jazz Festival. Of the performances at that fest, Urban Transport received one of the few standing ovation. You blushed when the audience stood up and begged for an encore.

Backstage a fellow from out of town told me he never imagined an ensemble of twenty-something musicians could be so poised and play so soulfully. Man that was a memorable afternoon.But you weren’t satisfied. You wanted the band to be a featured act on the main stage. In an interview for a story I wrote about Urban Transport published in the Metrotimes you told me the group rehearsed religiously because you didn’t want the group to be perceived as a jam session band.

Vincent, I never told you I’ve been a big fan since you were one of the late tenor saxophonist Donald Walden’s pupils. I watched you grow into to an exception trombonist and bandleader.

As the leader of Urban Transport, you treated Moore, Dobbins and Deas like equal partners. You encouraged them to write, and you never hogged the spotlight. I respect you for that.

I found out about the break up last year. I noticed Urban Transport wasn’t on the lineup for the 2007 Detroit International Jazz Festival. I talked to Bill Higgins, the drummer for Bop Culture, at the fest. I asked him why you guys weren’t performing. He said you moved to New York to be with your wife. Initially, I thought the group had irreconcilable issues.

A few months ago I went to Bert’s Marketplace to hear Moore’s new band, the Dean Moore Quartet. Moore and I chatted after the first set. He said the split was consensual. The guys knew you wanted to be in New York with your wife. And you encouraged them to pursue other endeavors. Moore said you’re doing great in New York.

Your ex-band mates are succeeding. Several months ago Dobbins released his first album as the leader of Sean Dobbins and the New Jazz Messengers. Moore is composing for his band the Dean Moore Quartet, and Deas is gigging steadily. Vincent, I really miss Urban Transport. I hope you guys reunite soon.

SWEET SIXTEEN

Listening to your second album Gracefullee, I had this vision of you locked up in your bedroom testing some tricky chord changes to a composition you've working on. Tacked to the walls are posters of your favorite jazz musicians. You’re positioned in front of your mirror blowing your alto sax. There’s photo of you wearing a black leather cap clutching your horn. You’re smiling. Next to the nightstand is an old fashion record player your mom purchased at Targets.

Atop your unmade twin size bed are albums by Stan Getz and Paul Desmond (the albums belong to your mom--there’re her favorite), and several pages of sheet music paper you’ve used to transcribe some of Getz’s and Desmond’s solos. The window in your bedroom is open halfway to allow fresh air in. You can hear the neighborhood kid’s frolicking outside. In front of the mirror, you’ve labored for hours trying to master Desmond’s licks.

The teens in your Wellesley, Massachusetts neighborhood think you’re asocial because you prefer to practice instead of going to the movies, hanging out at the Mall, and obsessing about boys. If Charlie Parker was alive you probably invite him to senior prom.. Instead of roaming with your classmates, you’d spend the evening picking Parker's brain. Insisting he teach you the chord changes to Parker's Mood.

Grace at, 16, you’re what mystics brand an old soul. I didn’t think it was feasible for a teenager to play with such maturity and authority. When I received Gracefullee last month and saw you on the cover with your mentor alto saxophonist Lee Konitz, I was a bit skeptical. Who in their right mind would give a recording deal to a teenager I mused?

Standing next to Konitz you looked so shy and out of place. I figured Konitz carried you through the session, and your sidemen guitarist Russell Malone, bassist Rufus Reid and drummer Mat Wilson would handled you, pardon the pun, with kid gloves. Grace, I was dead wrong.

On this nearly flawless offering you’re in absolute control from start to finish. I should have known you’re unarguably special because the great saxophonist Phil Woods raved about you. Plus, this year alone you received some impressive accolades: Best Jazz Act in Boston, ASCAP Foundation 2008 Young Jazz Composer Award, and 2008 Downbeat Magazine Student Music Awards just to list three.

On the duets with Konitz I couldn’t tell who was who because you both have identical melodic temperaments. You played the ballads You Don’t Know What Love Is and There Is Not Greater Love with a puppy love sort of innocence and naivete.

The duet with Malone on Just Friends and with Konitz on Alone Together are the most striking selections. You kidded around on Buzzing Around, having Konitz chase you through the chord changes. I bet he had to take breather afterward.

On Call of The Spirits and NY At Noon, nifty free jazz based compositions you let loose your aggressive size. Gracefullee is your sophomore album, but it should be taken as your official coming out party.

STANDARD TIME

Cassandra, I overheard a few months back someone say it seems almost impossible nowadays for musicians and bands to produce a quality album. I agreed with that outlook before I heard your new album for Blue Note Loverly,

I took to this album immediately. It is the first new album l've listened to this year that excited me. You transformed the standards Caravan, The Very Thought of You, and Sleepin’ Bee into grown up lullabies.

I was sold on Loverly after listening to Black Orpheus. Like your foremothers vocalists Abbey Lincoln and the late Betty Carter.

However, I must say it would've nearly impossible to make a bad album with pianist Jason Moran, bassist Lonnie Plaxico, and drummer Reginald Veal backing you. Cassandra you are a vocalist hypnotist.

The next time I overhear someone saying musicians and band are in a slump. I will suggest they listen to Loverly.

NOT IN CARTERIAN FASHION

I have to be honest with you, James. I really dislike your new album for Emarcy Present Tense. This is a tough blog for me to write because just several months back, I wrote a blog expressing how much your music has impacted me over the years, and how you’re responsible for some of my most cherished musical experiences. The one I think about often is the night you recorded live at Baker Keyboard Lounge.

You had saxophonists David Murray, Johnny Griffin, and Detroiters such as the late drummer Pistol Allen and alto saxophonist Larry Smith. I was sitting across from Kid Rock and his lady Pamela Anderson. I would have never figured them to be fans of your, but they were transfixed like the others in the audience. At least monthly, I think about that night.

That was along time ago, James. For what it’s worth, I always left your concerts confident you could do no wrong. Before I get into my take on your new offering I should tell you about a promise I made when I decided to start this blog page. I promised myself I would be forthright in my assessment of the albums, concerts, and people I blogged about. That meant at times I would have to write some unfavorable reviews about musicians I genuinely admire.

That said, James, for people to understand what a magnificent musician you are they have to hear you live. I would encourage them to purchase your albums Live at Baker Keyboard Lounge and Out of Nowhere, live recordings where you were uninhibited. I cant’ recall how many people I recommended those albums to. I loved those albums because they were straight up blowing sessions.

This new album Present Tense sounds like you started out on a journey with no particular destination in mind. And throughout it sounds as though someone forced you to modify yourself. Gone were those fancy catchy nuances you'd add at the very end of certain tunes. That was a recognizable trademark that distinguished you from other saxophonists.

Also, missing from Present Tense are those glorious ballads where it appeared you're engaged in an intimate dialog with your horn. There’s nothing particularly interesting about Tenderly and Song of Pour Que Ma Vie Demeure, ballads you performed on Present Tense. Even your homage to Eric Dolphy was flat. This entire album come across like outtakes from your previous offerings. Of the albums in your discography, this is the most disappointing.

You staffed your previous albums with mostly Detroiters. When you played with those guys there’s chemistry. That’s the sort of connection that’s missing with the sidemen on Present Tense guitarist Rodney Jones, bassist James Genus, drummer Victor Lewis, and pianist DD Jackson. The lack of chemistry is so noticeable it sounds like you guys were confined to separate rooms while recording this album. That might explain the cut and spliced together feel Present Tense has.

The only Detroiter on the album is trumpeter Dwight Adams. Surprisingly, Adams is not at the top of his game. It appeared as if he tried to forge a bond with these musicians who he’s obviously not comfortable playing with. The biggest eyesore is pianist DD Jackson. On Rapid Shave, he bangs and hammers the piano like he’s mad at it, or like he’s unleashing some pinned up aggression.

As I mentioned earlier, this is a difficult blog for me to write. I have to admit James, that I feel like a fair-weather friend, but this is the first time you put out a product that doesn’t measure up to you considerable talent.

Dream Chasers

trombonist Vincent Chandler Recently, a friend asked me who were my favorite jazz musicians I’ve interviewed over the years. Without giving the question much consideration, I blurted out Sonny Rollins and Wayne Shorter, but I couldn’t tell my friend why. It was a basic question that caught me off guard, and I gave a knee jerk answer.

I reread some of the articles I wrote over the span of my career as jazz journalist. I thought about my friend’s question again, and now I have a more thought out answer. My favorites were Detroiters organist Gerard Gibbs, vocalist Penny Wells, and trombonist Vincent Chandler. I admired their determination. They controlled their careers. It would’ve been more practical if they got good jobs instead of chasing their dream, but they understood the obstacles they faced.

Gerard Gibbs, for example, worked as an architect, and he earned good money. Yet he felt empty. He felt fulfilled making music. He quit his job to play full-time. He immediately landed steady work at popular jazz clubs such as Floods and Baker’s Keyboard Lounge. He produced two well received albums To Be or Not to B-3 and Livin’ & Learnin’, and he toured with saxophonist James Carter’s organ trio.

Vincent Chandler could have made a name for himself, playing standard compositions exclusively, but the trombonist started Urban Transport, a jazz quintet which dared to be unique by performing only original material. Chandler challenged his band-mates. Under his leadership, Urban Transport flourished. I heard the quintet on numerous occasions at Baker’s, and twice at Detroit International Jazz Festival. They never disappointed.

Of the three Detroiters, vocalist Penny Wells was the most tenacious. Wells proved her worth. When she was a teen, Wells’ music teacher tried to discourage her. The teacher said Wells couldn’t sing, and suggested Wells learn to play the violin.

Wells was infuriated, but she continued on. In 2004, she released an unforgettable debut album titled Shine. The vocalist showed such versatility the album could’ve been classified as a jazz, R&B, and Neo-Soul albums. Plus, she wrote and co-produced the songs. Wells and I became friends. She kept me updated on her career. I never told her I played Shine more than any other album I own.

Gibbs, Chandler, and Wells created opportunities. They were memorable interviews. I’m fortunate because I witnessed them realize their dream.