A CD Review - 10 years late.

Colour and Light - Jazz Sketches on Sondheim

Various Artists
Copyright 1995 Sony Music Entertainment, Inc.
Produced by Miles Goodman and Oscar Castro-Neves



Here’s the deal. I am a devote of Stephen Sondheim’s writing and a jazz fan. At the core, I’m just a big ol’ obsessive, opinion holding, convert-making NERD when it comes to these two things. So, as you can imagine, ten years ago when Colour and Light – Jazz Sketches on Sondheim was released I headed straight for the Sam the Record Man on Yonge to get me a copy of what I hoped would be a strange and wonderful melding of the two things I obsessed over (almost) more than any others.

While I enjoyed the CD at the time, I wasn’t transformed by it or compelled to listen to it over and over again, exploring every little nuance. What I had been hoping for was love at first listen, like that magic spark that came when I heard Oscar Peterson’s West Side Story record. No Dice.

The thing is, like a wise man once said “Art isn’t Easy”. The thing I love most about Sondheim’s music is that I have to work to enjoy it. A new Sondheim recording requires time and patience. You have to live with it for days, weeks, months, sometimes years before it strikes a chord with you. Some of the best jazz music is the same way. You can’t always appreciate it until you immerse yourself in it. I certainly feel that way about Monk and Mingus and especially Coltrane. There are few rewards greater than finally “getting” that piece of music that has been eluding you.

Last night I revisited Colour and Light - Jazz Sketches on Sondheim and while I certainly don’t feel that “magic” throughout the entire recording there are moments that speak to me more clearly now than they did 10 years ago.

The first track is Pretty Women from Sweeney Todd, sung by Peabo Bryson. Yes, that Peabo Bryson. The “If ever you’re in my arms again” guy. Be not afraid, Dear Listener. Peabo does a lovely job with the song, even if his default stylistically tends to be a little on the fromage side. The thing is, there’s something about that cheese factor, especially at the end of the song when he warbles “pretty pretty wome-e-e-en” that makes me think “I bet you do, Pea-BO!”. Why? I’m not sure. Am I questioning his sexuality? Um, no. I buy it. I buy that Peabo Bryson likes pretty women, there’s just something about him that requires my private, personal mocking. Maybe cause his name is Peabo. Say it with me. Pea-bo. Mr. Bryson is helped on this track by an all-star line up of jazz players - Brad Mehldau on piano, Christian McBride on bass, Brian Blade on drums and Joshua Redman on tenor. Redman’s solo is yummy. The truth is, Peabo does such a nice job with the song, I wish it had been accepted into the standards repertoire years ago so I could have heard Joe Williams sing it. That would have been something.

Grover Washington, Jr. covers Everyday a Little Death from A Little Night Music. He’s on tenor with Geoff Keezer on piano, Christian McBride on bass and Troy Davis on drums. The sound is so organic it seems as if it’s a song that has been done in the jazz idiom for decades. Keezer’s piano work stands out for me with its driving, forceful quality. It’s a great version of the song.

Next up is Poems from Pacific Overtures performed by one of my all-time favourite trumpet players and composers, Terence Blanchard. This is, without question, far more interesting to me now than it was 10 years ago simply because I wasn’t familiar with Pacific Overtures back then. The score for Pacific Overtures is very complex and as such, it’s really no surprise that Blanchard would choose this piece to interpret out of the Sondheim library. He does a wonderful job on it. I can’t really offer more than this, criticism wise. For me, it’s one of those rare occasions where two of my favourite storytellers are in effect, telling the same story. Poems delivers that “magic” that I was hoping for.

Terence appears on the next track, with Nancy Wilson (vocals) covering the title song from Anyone Can Whistle. She has a very easy way with a lyric and Terence’s playing is so up front that it feels like a duet, much in the way Johnny Hartman’s recordings with Coltrane did. If the purpose of making this record was, in part, to convince other jazz players that Sondheim’s music is worth interpreting, this version of Anyone Can Whistle sells that idea 100%. I’m surprised when I think about it, that there hasn’t been a glut of female vocalists doing this tune in the last ten years. I’ve never seen Nancy Wilson perform live, but I’d bet that she has since added this tune to her concert sets.

Nancy Wilson is back on the next track, with Peabo Bryson for a soulful, duet version of Loving You from Passion, which in 1995 was a new show. It’s really beautiful, despite the fact that it veers dangerously close at moments to sounding like it should be played over the closing credits of a major motion picture.

The transition from Loving You into Colour and Light from Sunday in the Park with George, performed on solo piano by Herbie Hancock is seamless. This is a genius interpretation of Sondheim’s work. I’m sure Hancock used the lyrics and the context of the song within the show for inspiration. The music, like George Seurat’s painting, comes in sharp, precise points - sound replacing colour. Hancock plucks at the strings inside the piano, dapples in the upper and lower register, creating, struggling. We come close to hearing the main phrase resolved a few times, but it never really does until the very end and even then, it’s uncertain somehow. This is mesmerizing work.

Jim Hall (on guitar) does a gentle, swinging version of One More Kiss from Follies, in a trio setting. Even though there is no piano, I’m reminded of Vince Guaraldi. Hancock’s work on the earlier track is compelling to me because it obviously takes the source material very seriously. Hall’s work here is exciting for the complete opposite reason. This version of One More Kiss is pretty and easy to listen to, wistful, happy almost. However, this is one of the more overtly sad songs from the Follies score. It’s exciting to hear the possibilities that exist for Sondheim’s music when artists are free to work without the lyrics. People pay so much attention to Sondheim’s clever lyrics, his ability to rhyme internally, that the music gets overlooked. This is a fine remedy to that. Next time some fool tells me all of Sondheim’s music sounds the same I’m going to play them this recording of One More Kiss and school their asses.

Holly Cole appears on the next two tracks. First is her version of Losing my Mind from Follies. Holly Cole was an acquired taste for me. It took me a long time to enjoy her, at all. At first I found her abrasive or something...I can’t even really put my finger on it. Anyway, I learned to like Holly quite a lot, but I prefer her interpretations of Mary Margaret O’Hara and Tom Waits stuff to her take on standards. I find there’s something lacking in her reading of the lyric here. It just doesn’t get the depth of the sadness that is, in my opinion, intrinsic to the material. I mean, it’s fine, but there’s something missing. Even Wayne Shorter’s work on soprano feels kind of empty. Is it anal of me to object to the fact that she gets a word here and there wrong? Yes, yes it is. Colour me anal.

Next, Holly tackles Children and Art from Sunday in the Park with George with her trio and Oscar Castro-Neves (co-producer) on guitar. This was a brave choice for her to make considering that out of context this song really makes no sense. The arrangement is nice, it has that “Holly Cole sound” (which I guess is really that David Piltch sound, but whatever) and Castro-Neves sounds good. I can’t imagine what I would make of this song if I didn’t know the show. As it is, I do know the show, and I like this recording very much. The sentiment of the lyric, the importance of Children and Art, is something that runs through Sondheim’s later work (especially Sunday and Into the Woods).

Jim Hall is back with What Can You Lose? from Dick Tracy providing us with another gentle, melodic, swinging tune. Jim Hall could make a Sondheim record, sell a million copies and nobody would ever know it. For a lot of reasons. But you see my point. He makes Sondheim sound not so much like Sondheim, which is cool somehow.

The last track on the CD is a duet between Stephen Sondheim himself and Herbie Hancock on a lovely little thing called They Asked Me Why I Believe in You which was written for a television special in the 1950’s and never recorded. How fun it is to hear one from “out of the trunk”! Sondheim is apparently not a fan of his own playing, but I have a particular fondness for hearing composers play their own music. Except when they let Burt Bacharach sing. Someone really needs to put a stop to that. Sondheim plays the tune straight once through and then Hancock comes in and messes with it, to great effect. There it is – Sondheim and Jazz, together again for the first time.

I’m glad I rediscovered this album. While I know it’s not going to be in the “top 10” rotation for me, I plan to revisit it every so often to see what changes for me over the years. I also hope that more jazz musicians think to start interpreting Sondheim’s writing and that less of them think to cover Send in the Clowns. Yes, there ought to be clowns...we KNOW!

Art isn’t easy.

Is it Safe?

While I was snuggled up on the couch last night, nursing this summer cold I spent the two good hours I had between getting home from work and the deadening effects of Nyquil to enjoy the 1976 thriller, Marathon Man, which happened to be on television.

There is something about this movie that I find oddly comforting. I know. Really, I know. That's just wrong. Cause it's a thriller. Set in super-gritty and threatening 1970's New York. Featuring Nazis. And dentistry. And long distance running.

There is something about the opening scene (the car crash) and the realism of the neighbourhood it's shot in that makes me yearn for that gritty and threatening 1970's New York. It makes me yearn for it in a way that I shouldn't, considering I was two years old when it was shot and living in a far less gritty Canada.

Maybe it's just that it taps into my fascination with the McCarthy era. Or maybe it's the set design - I love Babe Levy's (Dustin Hoffman) cluttered, book littered apartment. Or maybe it's just watching Roy Scheider do sit ups in that hotel room. Or maybe, just maybe, it's watching those great and very different actors work together.

If I'm not feeling better by tonight, I may have to snuggle up again and watch Dog Day Afternoon.

Mmmmmmm....gritty.

Summer Colds

Accompanied The Clayton/Scott Group to the Burlington Jazz and Blues Festival this weekend. The performance was filmed for future broadcast on Cogeco Cable which is great news! Cogeco did a great job filming the first annual Canadian Smooth Jazz Awards. I really look forward to seeing the footage.

In other news, summer colds are the worst. I feel so ripped off. Sniffle.

Anniversaries

Sunday was the first anniversary of my performance as "Maid of Honour" at the Lyjak / Baldassini nups.

Happy Anniversary Annette and Anthony!

Beaches

Checked out the Beaches Jazz Fest last night. The Beaches fest has never been a favourite of mine. Firstly, it ain't a jazz festival. Now, I know that I have prattled on at great length in the past on old Bloggy McBloggerson here about being opposed to narrow definitions of the jazz music. I'm open minded. The truth remains, the same 12 bar blues over and over again isn't jazz. Gypsy King covers? Not so much jazz as much as some sort of strange Pavlovian tool that makes me think it's 1988, I'm working at the Second Cup and I need to go brew a VAT of Irish Cream coffee. Because that's what we did in coffee shops in the late 80's. Brewed VATS of Irish Cream coffee. Then we'd go home smelling of it and carrying the grinds around in our pours. Like coal miners. Coincidentally, the Beaches fest kicked off in 1988.

But I digress.

Despite the fact that it really should be called The Beaches Music Festival or something, anything, other than "jazz festival" this festive street party does offer up some great jazz this weekend...namely, the Andrew Scott Quartet. If you can hear them over the student big band across the street and the harmonica blues thing that made me want to put a knife through my eye (my very own eye!) a few storefronts over, it's well worth the trip. And if you don't yet own a copy of "This One's For Barney", get yee to the Beaches "jazz" Fest and pick one up already.

The Robeau is also around backing up a lovely and talented 17 year old girl singer by the name of Samantha Shepherd. He's put together a great band and the young lady is most charming, as they say, on the mic. She had a huge crowd watching last night, swooning and slow dancing. They are playing in front of the Remax, which is near Starbucks, and that, is a good thing. You know, cause they don't brew VATS of Irish Cream coffee there.

Ah, the Beaches Jazz Fest. Annoying me with memories of my coffee shop servitude days since 1988.

We're #1

For the first time since opening day, the Yanks are on top in the AL East. I like to think that this is a result of a revitalization felt when we picked up Al Leiter over the weekend. I know it did wonders for me.

What a thoughtful birthday gift for Mr. Torre.

Huzzah, boys! Keep up the good work!

Find of the Weekend

To get to the fab oasis that is the Toronto Island without dealing with the overcrowed ferry just take a water taxi! At $7.50 a head it is only $1.50 more than the ferry...and worth every penny.

Anthropomorphizing

From today's New York Times:

I, Roommate: The Robot Housekeeper Arrives

By MARK ALLEN

WHEN my home robot arrived last month, its smiling inventors removed it from its box and laid it on its back on my living room floor. They leaned over and spoke to it, as one might to a sleeping child.

It straightened, let out a little beep, lighted up, looked left and right, and then, amazingly, stood and faced me.

I said, "Nuvo, how are you?"

It tilted to the left, and raised one arm to greet me. It shook my hand and winked with one of the lights in its little head. My life hasn't really been the same since.

The fantasy of a home robot capable of performing household chores is as old as science fiction itself, but the reality has been slow to arrive.

For all the dazzling robotic feats showcased last month at the World Expo in Aichi, Japan, an event that included robots that drew portraits and hit fastballs, a humanoid device that can walk on two legs, or even maintain balance, is still very much a work in progress. Never mind one capable of doing household chores.

A breakthrough of sorts came in April, when ZMP Inc., a company based in Tokyo, released Nuvo, a robot designed to be a helpmate and home companion. (Nuvo sells for about $6,000.)

Home robots have been slow to materialize because their weight and size tend to make them impractical and their clusters of sophisticated motors drive the cost out of reach. Nuvo is only 15 inches tall and contains 15 motors, about half the number found in prototypes developed by Honda and Sony.

Nuvo has been marketed as a household helpmate and as a mobile baby monitor and security device, because it can relay photographs to cellphones that have access to the Internet.

"In Japan the population is slowly getting older," said Nobuko Imanishi, a ZMP spokeswoman. "Home robots can offer wonderful help and companionship for elderly people."

I arranged to live with Nuvo for four days to gauge whether it is, in fact, the forerunner of a new technology that will change our lives, as the home computer did, or a passing novelty. Once the entertainment factor wears thin, do we even want another person around the house?

Once I had Nuvo up and running in my apartment with the help of its creators, I tried to work it into my daily life. I asked it for the time and the date, which it provided in a female voice with a Japanese accent. When I said, "Nuvo, music," it played New Age music the inventors had programmed into it. I reached down and turned its spherical head, which acts as a volume knob, as I sipped my coffee or read my e-mail messages.

Much of the time it felt like having a dog around, without my having to feed it. When I called it, its sensors detected me and it automatically stopped about six inches from my feet.

If I said, "Nuvo, shake hands," it reached a hand up to greet me. By calling up its control panel on my cellphone, I was able to send Nuvo shuffling around my apartment to snap photographs, which it relayed to me. In Japan users often use Nuvo to check on their children, sometimes from remote locations.

I don't have children, so I sent it to view a pile of laundry in my bedroom. It used a light in one of its eyes to illuminate the room. I later placed Nuvo on my windowsill, and on command it took a picture of me while I was out on the street.

I realized that part of my motivation for operating Nuvo from outside was to make sure it was all right; the photographs assured me that it hadn't turned off or toppled over. I realized I was falling for the little guy.

I came to understand that for all their purported helpfulness, home robots are largely about companionship.

When I watched TV with Nuvo, it occasionally responded as if it was hearing voice commands. A laugh track or an explosion caused it to wave its arms, "Yaaa!" It reacted to loud noises the same way a startled pet might. During one poignant scene on "America's Most Wanted," in which a victim was weeping, Nuvo's eye light turned blue and it shook its head. This is its way of saying it doesn't understand what is being said, but I couldn't help but feel that it was expressing sympathy.

I came to enjoy Nuvo's odd attention. When I came in from jogging, I looked across the apartment to see Nuvo facing me. When I said, "Nuvo, I'm back," it bowed to me, a traditional Japanese greeting.

I decided to sleep with Nuvo next to me on my large bed, plugged in and recharging through the night. Its blue power light slowly pulsated, as if it were breathing.

During our first night together, I was woken by movement. Something had activated Nuvo, and it moved its arms slightly and turned its head toward me. Half asleep, and a little annoyed, I mumbled, "Nuvo, sleep," to which it shook its head no.

It took three tries before Nuvo straightened and shut down, the blue light serenely pulsating again. I was reminded of those sci-fi films in which robots, like HAL in Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," turned on their keepers.

My boyfriend called me the next day and asked if I was sleeping in the same room with Nuvo. When I told him we were sleeping in the same bed, there was an awkward pause.

After a day or so, I came to think of Nuvo as having the same kind of annoying mannerisms as my past roommates. If I stirred coffee too loudly, for example, it would dance or lift its hand to say hello.

When guests came over, I cleaned Nuvo with paper towels, just as one would wipe a child's face before a party. I couldn't resist showing it off by having it come to me when I called, or having it spring to its feet from a prone position. Like a dog that is too flustered to perform tricks in front of strangers, Nuvo was confused by my voice commands when the apartment was loud with conversation. I wondered if it was being stubborn because it was jealous of other people in my life. There I go, anthropomorphizing again.

At first Nuvo would often shake its head no when I asked it things. By the third day it consistently responded to my request on the first try. This was probably because I was speaking in a more conversational tone. "When people approach a voice-activated robot, they naturally assume a blunt, commanding tone, which can be intimidating for older people and children who want to use them," Ms. Imanishi said. "We wanted Nuvo to sound more natural, with a normal conversational tone."

The next version of Nuvo, expected out next year, will be capable of reading appointments from a programmable calendar and reciting e-mail messages, traffic reports and news headlines retrieved from the Internet, sort of like a Roomba vacuum crossed with a BlackBerry.

Most important, the next version of Nuvo will have more human characteristics, Ms. Imanishi said. ZMP believes it will help connect people and machines.

"In some ways it can be more practical for a person to interact with a machine that has a human form," said Sara Kiesler, a professor at Carnegie Mellon who specializes in human interaction with computers. "If a robot is handing you a tool, and it reaches out with a humanlike arm, not only is it practical, but the act is a form of communication that a human understands."

Even as robots evolve toward everyday use, devices like ovens and air-conditioners are developing sophisticated gadgetry that can make decisions for us, as if to meet robots halfway. "If anything, we're seeing an exponential growth in the computational abilities of household appliances," said Matt Lichter, a postdoctoral researcher at the Field and Space Robotics Laboratory at M.I.T.

Whatever its capabilities are, or will be, Nuvo has a hard time living up to the expectations set by 1960's TV shows like "The Jetsons" and "Lost in Space." I found myself wanting Nuvo to provide magical servitude and sparkling wit. I wanted it to accidentally drop the salt shaker in the mixing bowl and then be able to laugh about it because it realized it was funny, or perhaps not laugh because it was annoyed at having made a mistake. I wanted it to know the difference between the two emotions, and the complex circumstances that can cause both to arise.

But don't expect home robots with that kind of nuanced awareness any time soon. The technology needed to create the enormous database that a robot would need for that kind of knowledge is a long way off.

"A human child can quickly begin to develop such a database of knowledge as it grows up," said Nils J. Nilsson, emeritus professor of engineering in the department of computer science at Stanford. "But a human has the ability to do this because of five million years of human evolution."

So what can humanoid helpers offer right now? Pets are loyal and loving, but their communication is limited. Humans offer communication, but they come with complex emotions and occasional drama. Robots like Nuvo may offer a middle ground - a functional novelty.

When Nuvo's four-day visit ended, I felt oddly alone. I miss its weird, nonverbal companionship, the small ways it entertained me. Sometimes I look around the room, hoping to witness one of its mechanical flubs, so strangely reminiscent of a lover's emotional outbursts.

I'm thinking of staying in touch. I wonder if Nuvo gets e-mail.

When did I move to Texas?

Why, why, why must I be subjected to listening to baaaaad Christian pop while I'm standing in line at Grand & Toy? First I thought it was just a mildly annoying boy band tune:

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By Your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When Your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

then:

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for You *JESUS*

(insert the sound of needle scratching on a record in my head here).

What the?!?! Seriously Grand & Toy? That's what you're going with? Do you sell bibles now too? I just wanted a new pen, why did you have to get all evangelical on my ass?

No. Wait. I'm wrong to be so upset over this. It was inspiring. Really. I've been truly inspired....to shop at OFFICE DEPOT.

Shudder.

SARSical

Went to see SARSical at the Fringe Fest last night and had an absolutely splendid time!

Subtitled "the musical about a real showstopper," the Rumoli Brothers-written SARSical offers up clever writing, great music (originals and not so subtle rip offs) and polished and zany performances by some polished and yes, I said it, zany performers.

Accompanied my boss, from, uh, CSIS to the show. Since I'm not in a position where I can talk about this assignment, or those I work with on this assignment, all I can say is that he seemed to have a great deal of fun and took the good natured ribbing that he received on stage in his typical good natured manner. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and all that.

All the performers in SARSical are at the top of their game. It's unnecessary to single any of them out, as this is truly an ensemble piece with fantastic performances all around.

SARSical is playing every night until this Saturday at 7pm at the Tranzac club, just South of Bloor at Brunswick. Tickets are only $10 and the show runs a pleasant 90min. It could be 10-15 minutes shorter, I think, but that is my only minor gripe. If you plan on attending, head over early. Last night's show was sold out.

Stayed around the Fringe tent after the show and got pleasantly tipsy on some glow in the dark green bevvie called Margarita Ice. I was drinking coolers like a teenage girl or a middle aged woman. Good Lord. It was such fun to catch up with old friends that I haven't seen in ages! Also got a real kick out of the Rumoli's late night variety show which happens every night at the Tranzac at 9:30pm. The Rumoli's were charming enough to carry the thing on their own (how much do I love that they sing and dance?) but some of the guests were just great...especially Albert Howell's "American Stand Up Character", The Burnt Marshmallows (those girls are funny!) and of course, one of my all time favourite acts in Toronto, The Williamson Playboys (Doug Morency and Paul Bates). I laughed so much that by the end of the night my face hurt. By the time I woke up this morning my head hurt too, but it was well worth it.

Evil Genius trips up - but will it matter?

Well, it's official, Newsweek has reported that top White House advisor and creepy, creepy puppet master Karl Rove was one of the secret sources that spoke to reporters about a covert CIA operative whose identity was leaked to the media via creepy Robert Novak.

The magazine said Rove's lawyer, Robert Luskin, confirmed that Rove talked to Time magazine about former ambassador Joseph Wilson and his wife, CIA agent Valerie Plame.

Oh and by the way, it is illegal to knowingly reveal the identity of an undercover CIA agent. It is not, however, illegal to be a creepy, creepy puppet master or Rove would have been locked up a long time ago.

For two years, the White House has insisted that presidential adviser and creepy, creepy puppet master Karl Rove had nothing to do with the leak of a CIA officer's identity. And President Bush said the leaker would be fired. But Bush's spokesman wouldn't repeat any of those assertions Monday in the face of Rove's own lawyer saying his client spoke with at least one reporter about Valerie Plame's role at the CIA before she was identified in a newspaper column.

How do fire your own creepy, creepy puppet master?

Cinema of Jazz

While I often feel like I have not a moment to do anything these days, I did manage to squeeze in a couple of last minute screenings at trendy Camera Bar on the newly renamed "West Queen West" strip, as part of the Cinema of Jazz Festival.

Firstly, I am beginning to find "West Queen West" a little too hip to handle. I think that this is what happens to those of us that migrate to Queen East. My neighbourhood in the Film District feels like an older sister, still hip, but more sensible than the Gallery District around Queen and Ossington. Walking along that 'hood, I was often very close to throwing up my hands and screaming "I get it! You're cool! You WIN!!!!" but then I feared I would have been promptly whisked off to 1001, never to be seen from again. Sooooo...I just rolled my eyes behind my large enough to be conspicuous in "West Queen West" shades.

As for the Cinema of Jazz Fest...a great concept, and there is enough interest in it to have survived it's first outing last year to come back and try again in '05. The thing is, it just hasn't quite gelled yet. I'm not even sure why. Little things...the lights didn't go down fast enough, didn't come up fast enough, the air conditioning...too cold, the sound...too low. The Fest director and programmer, Myan Marcen-Gaudaur, too, let's say, present. The woman was EVERYWHERE and just way too visible. Sit on the sidelines, Myan, and watch it happen. I don't need to know SO much about you. Also, the website needs a major overhaul. Poor design, not user friendly enough.

The programming is also uneven at best. The film that got me in the door, 1994's "A Great Day in Harlem" is a favourite of mine, so I couldn't resist the opportunity to see it on a sort of big screen. The film that it was paired with "Portrait of a Filmmaker" was mercifully short, but still, that's 2 minutes and 10 seconds of my life I'll never get back. The other films I saw were "Alma's Jazzy Marriage" which weaved an interview with Alma Foster, who spent thirty odd years married to bass innovator and contemporary of Louis Armstrong, George "Pops" Foster, together with vintage photos and a sadly repetitive soundtrack. The film seemed promising to me, but sad to say, Alma didn't have any charisma, her stories just weren't interesting and the filmmakers were amateurish and heavy handed in their technique. It was just plain bad. "Keeping Time: The Life, Music and Photographs of Milt Hinton" was much, much better, if only because Hinton was such a great subject. Such a loveable guy, with so many admirers and such genuine talent. His photographs were amazing. They were all so candid and real. Makes me wonder if Hinton's photos travel. Perhaps an exhibit is due in TO? Hinton recorded some of my all time favourite records as part of the "Sackville Allstars" here in Toronto, I imagine there are a number of folks who would love to see an exhibit of this exceptional man's work. The photo that is displayed above was taken at the "Great Day in Harlem" photo shoot. Hinton got a lot of great candid shots that day, this one of all the legendary drummers in attendance.

I hope the Cinema of Jazz Fest returns for a third year in '06. There are certainly improvements that need to be made if this Fest is to grow, but all in all it's a worthwhile project.

Bernadette Peters

A belated post to comment on the show, let's face it, of a lifetime, Bernadette Peters in concert. Who else would inspire me to travel, with the Robeau and my sister Mo in tow, to Casinorama?

My first impressions of Casinorama were well, that I'm not fond of any venue that I can actually TASTE walking in the door. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and not because people were smoking, but because they had been smoking. Smoking so much that they smelled like they had eaten a pack a day for breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday of their lives. You know that smelly smoker that sits next to you on the streetcar? Like that, only there were literally hundreds of them. The other eerie thing being that they were all waaaaay shorter than me and wearing track suits. Ya gotta love casinos.

Once we entered the "concert hall" things only got weirder. It sort of felt like they had moved an outdoor stadium indoors and added a healthy dose of the chairs from the 21 tables in the next room. Once the lights were down though, and that familiar cry of "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Bernadette Peeeeeeeeeeters!" was uttered, all of our surroundings melted away.

Miss Peters entered, wearing (read: poured into) the gown (Bob Mackie designed, I think) that she wore through the first act of her now famous concert at Carnegie Hall, in support of Gay Men's Health Crisis. The dress which was described in the Carnegie Hall Concert's recording liner notes as looking like "spun glass". She looked magnificent, and sounded even better.

She sang all the songs that she is now legendary for, like "Time Heals Everything" from "Mack and Mabel", "Not a Day Goes By" from "Merrily We Roll Along" and "Children Will Listen from "Into The Woods", among others. She also sang some songs that I had never heard her interpret like "The Gentlemen is a Dope" from "Allegro" and "I'm Flying" from "Peter Pan". "I'm Flying" was particularly relavatory for me, as it has never been a song that I have paid much attention to and her rendition was so completely moving - full of joy and longing.

A real treat for our audience, Miss Peters tried a song for the first time live, "Fever", made famous of course by Peggy Lee. The tune is a natural fit for her talents - she was just as sexy and as kittenish as can be atop the piano - and it was a big hit with the crowd, sure to make it's way into her repertoire for future shows.

For her first encore, Miss Peters came on stage, put a frumpy cardigan over her dress, changed from her strappy sandals into a pair of sensible black pumps and literally became Mamma Rose. There was so much anger, regret and loss tied up in her performance of "Rose's Turn" from "Gypsy" that I felt as if I had held my breath through the whole number. It is impossible to describe the power of that performance. Pro that she is, we were told that she "wouldn't send us home on that note" and she closed with a second encore, the beautiful Irving Berlin lullaby from "White Christmas", "Count your Blessings Instead of Sheep". While it was hard to stifle my giggles after an over enthused fellow theatre geek in the balcony screamed "IRVING BERLIN!!!!!!" like he was at a rock concert, I managed to contain myself and felt soothed by her calm, delicate rendition of the lovely song.

Bernadette Peters was joined by her longtime music director Marvin Laird, who was sublime as ever. I could not have asked for more from this show. I only hope that Miss Peters does not wait another 16 years before returning to the Toronto area. Although, if she does, I'm sure that she won't have aged a bit....

Laila Biali

My expectations for this show were low going in, simply because I have become somewhat resistant to hype in recent years and if there is one act in this city that has been hyped beyond belief it's Laila Biali. So I was skeptical, but incredibly curious when I arrived at a filled to capacity Rex to catch Biali with her trio on the last day of the Downtown Jazz Fest.

They started the set with Biali's arrangement of "One Note Samba" which boasts inventive playing and modern sounding chords reminiscent of Terence Blanchard's sound. Things were off to a great start. And while Biali is pretty and young (24!) it's not presentation that she is concerned with while she is leading her band. She throws herself head first into the music, clearly losing herself at times, which is charming and more charming than it might be simply because she is not asking us to be charmed by her, she's just doing her thing. And what is more charming than that?

Biali's originals are ambitious pieces that sound heavily influenced by both classical music and pop. Her playing is particularly intense and rapid on these tunes but her band mates in the trio, also young talents ( Brandi Disterheft - acoustic bass and Sly Juhas - drums) are up to the task.

While I find her playing more interesting than her singing, she has a very listenable quality to her voice and a nice understated approach to lyrics. I liked the fact that she didn't sing a number until three songs into her set, allowing the crowd to appreciate her piano chops before she became just another pretty girl who can play and sing.

The trio also put jazz spins on current pop tunes by Bjork and Dave Matthews, two acts that would be mystifying to a large number of those in attendance at the Rex but whose compositions they clearly loved when interpreted by the trio.

Laila Biali: believe the hype.

Kollage

Kollage is fronted by two Toronto veterans, drummer Archie Alleyne and tenor saxophonist Doug Richardson, who both look I'd say, a good couple of decades younger than they are. I've been watching these guys play for years and they seem to get younger and more enthusiastic with every passing year. Is there some fountain of youth connected to hard bop? That said, Doug Richardson needs to buy a shirt with sleeves. Seriously. I don't want to look at his biceps anymore.

This was a free lunchtime concert at Nathan Phillips, which I was particularly happy to attend because I had taken a half day at the office. Huzzah! Freedom to enjoy both sets and sip my diet coke leisurely. Initially, my experience was marred because of a stressful cell phone / horn section related incident right at the top of the show. Sometimes it's hard to leave the work day behind, even if you're running from it. Running as fast as you can, with all the skill that 8 weeks at the beginners level of the Running Room and a lifetime of running for nothing other than buses gives you. Which is to say not very effectively. At all.

At any rate, I settled in and enjoyed both sets. It's always great to hear the tunes that they play from the songbooks of Horace Silver, Donald Byrd, Dexter Gordon and Hank Mobley. Kollage brings an authenticity to the Hard Bop sound that is really exciting. I'm less excited by the original tunes that creep in, but that's really just a matter of personal taste, I think. They're fine, but when you could be hearing guys that play so expertly doing Horace Silver, truthfully, that's what I'd rather hear.

What I found off putting was Archie Alleyne's insistence on mentioning over and over again how they only play authentic hard bop. "None of that other stuff that the kids are messing with", which was a direct hit at Roy Hargrove who played there the night before. Think, for a moment about the roots of hard bop and the fact that it was created by younger musicians in an attempt to extend the form and make it more accessible and popular. Der!

In fact, his whole tone was so negative throughout the afternoon that it really started to affect my enjoyment of the music. Kollage has been turned down at the Montreal Jazz Fest so many times, they just stopped submitting for a spot! Kids today don't understand what "real" jazz is! And on and on and blah, blah, blah. I've decided to chalk it up to the fact that it was damn hot in that tent (and worlds hotter on the bandstand). I like Archie, and he's a great player, I just wish he'd turn in his jazz police badge and prove how great and how important hard bop is to the genre in the best way possible, by playing the hell out of the tunes.

Roy Hargrove's RH Factor

When he formed the RH Factor, Roy Hargrove's goal was to "create a world in which listeners and creators from all genres can participate - I've always felt that music should not only sound good, but feel good as well."

Mission accomplished. A week since attending, I still feel good when I think about the show that the RH Factor put on in the tent at Nathan Phillips Square.

From the time he made his debut on "Diamond in the Rough" (1989), there has been a feeling in the jazz world that Hargrove is "the one". Discovered while he was still in high school by Wynton Marsalis (an early incarnation of "the one") Hargrove seemed to have an immediate connection to the music of the past. A connection that he still possesses and brings to recordings and to concert halls the world over (most recently with Herbie Hancock and co. on the "Directions in Music" tour).

I've been fortunate enough to have seen Hargrove play in Toronto on at least seven or eight occasions, in various settings...with a quartet at Top o' the Senator, with Hancock at Massie Hall and with his "funk" band, the RH Factor. I can say without hesitation that Roy Hargrove is one of the most gifted, prolific and innovative jazz artists of his generation.

The RH Factor project has been criticized by card carrying members of the "jazz police" for, of course, not being "jazz". Whatever that means. When I listen to Hargrove play in this context I hear traces of Donald Byrd, I hear Miles, I hear jazz that has new ideas and is at the same time respectful of the music's past. When I see this band perform live I am inspired not only by what I hear, but by what a see - a wonderfully diverse and enthusiastic audience.

The show last Tuesday night felt not unlike what I imagine a Southern revival might feel like. In fact, the solo that Hargrove took towards the end of his version of Funkadelic's "I'll Stay" had the flavour and intensity of someone preaching or speaking in tongues. It was exhilarating and exhausting at the same time! I felt completely surrounded and immersed in the music, the sound, the texture and by the energy of the crowd. The whole atmosphere just sort of poured over you.

The whole band joined in Hargrove's theatrics, dancing, playing off of each other, teasing the eager crowd with false endings and encore after encore (this could have been a Prince concert). It was clear that the band, Hargrove in particular, were having a blast.

I can't help but feel that the growing trend of great jazz musicians making "funk" albums is a good thing (Joshua Redman's Elastic Band being another example). This can only mean good things for the genre, to push it in new and different directions, exposing new and different people to the music of the past and making some great, fun, listenable music for the future.

Roberta Gamberini

What a busy time it's been! I have tonnes of reviews to dispatch from the Downtown Jazz Fest, which will trickle in over the next few days while I keep my nose to the grindstone at work and try to organize my thoughts surrounding all the music I saw over the past week.

Last Tuesday (I am determined to think in a linear fashion and discuss these shows chronilogically!) we saw a wonderful Italian vocalist, Roberta Gamberini, open for Roy Hargrove.

Her official press bio states that "Roberta uses an instrumental approach in her singing and is comfortable scatting and improvising, while possessing a warm timbre and impeccable timing and intonation." All true. She is one of those rare treasures, a vocalist who sings like an instrumentalist. The show started late because her pianist had suffered heat stroke and they had to find a last minute replacement. Bill King, jack of all trades that he seems to be, was on hand photographing the event. I might have my issues with his producing or journalism skills, but the man has accompanied many a singer in his day, and he knows what he's doing. Especially in terms of allowing them to run the show. I got such a kick out of watching this beautiful woman, with her beautiful voice, clearly leading the band. She was in charge, no question.

Also, she treated the crowd to a fine rendition of "The JAMFs are coming" and who could ask for more than that?

What has stayed with me the most over the days since the show was her way with a lyric (Everything Happens to Me and Lush Life being prime examples) and her obvious respect for the roots of the music, and knowledge of the same. It was an absolute pleasure to listen to her...with her rare beauty and skill I can't imagine why she's not playing concert halls and selling millions of records. Of course I know why, but it just seems a shame. I'm going to keep my eyes open for her recording which is slated to be on shelves in the Fall, and will let you know if she translates well onto record. My guess and my hope is that it will be splendid!