Babatunde Lea wastes no time as he takes his music back to the motherland. Hurling himself into action with his left hand on the congas and his right at the drum kit, he creates a rich carpet for Richard Howell’s streetwise yet spiritual tenor sax…
Surprisingly, the motel’s “VACANCY” sign remained lit, and only three cars were present in the parking lot. It looked like just another sleepy off-season day. At precisely 4:00, everything changed…
John Scofield is the Showcase Artist at the Monterey Jazz Festival this year, which means that each evening he appears on stage with a different band. For tonight’s Arena capper, a tribute to the late Ray Charles, the guitarist is working with electric bass, drums, and the festival’s seemingly ubiquitous Hammond B3 organ.
There’s barely a free seat in the house when the Andy Bey Quartet takes the stage. The master vocal stylist gently insinuates himself into his set with “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,” the Depression-era lament given a modern treatment as Bey twists the phrasing, scats, and toys with the melody on piano. His extended coda fades gently as Bey repeats and varies the title line again and again.
I make it across the Fairgrounds in time to catch the last few numbers from the Lounge Art Ensemble, an inviting modern-jazz trio led by drummer Peter Erskine. A steaming post-bop brew is bubbling here, and the room is about two-thirds full despite the large crowds gathered elsewhere for singers Tony Bennett, Sheila Jordan, and Ledisi…
Commissioned works have become a central part of the Monterey tradition. For this year’s festival, the unpredictable Carla Bley has cooked up a beautifully conceived suite entitled “Appearing Nightly at the Black Orchid.” Before premiering it, however, Bley puts her 17-piece Big Band (featuring many fine Northern California musicians) through their paces in two preliminary numbers…
Branford Marsalis is midway through an on-stage conversation with journalist Yoshi Kato, and he’s talking about roaches. In response to a question about the future development of jazz, Marsalis argues that today is a great time to be a jazz musician, precisely because the music is so unpopular now. When something is trendy, he explains, the “roaches” come out of the woodwork, jumping on the bandwagon for all the wrong reasons…
Straw hats run neck-and-neck with baseball caps as the headwear of choice in the Arena, where the huge, milling crowd resembles nothing so much as a massive block party. But it all becomes orderly in time for Larry Carlton’s set with the Sapphire Blues Band.
Matthew Bourne is attacking his piano — literally — going straight for its musical jugular. Arms flailing, body rocking in a sort of St. Vitus dance, Bourne creates abstractions of startling density and violence, at one point leaving the keys entirely to bang on the piano’s body.
It is time to bring the funk. Sharon Jones’ band, the mighty Dap-Kings, announces this in no uncertain terms as tenor saxophonist Neal Sugarman strides to the front of the Jimmy Lyons Stage and lets loose a blistering attack punctuated by the acid sting of David Guy’s trumpet…
On the Garden Stage, Jay Collins is tearing it up. Collins is the kind of glorious musician who gives writers fits. With his rough voice, explosive chops on saxophones and flutes, and a killer band behind him, Collins gleefully evades categorization. At any given moment, the Collins band might evoke a vintage Stax soul record, Dr. John’s voodoo-tinged funk, or the blues-rock band at your neighborhood bar.
Forty years ago, John Handy’s quintet took Monterey by storm with a fiery, innovative set that helped to cement the alto saxophonist’s career as a leader. To commemorate the milestone, Handy is opening this year’s Arena program with a nearly identical group…
