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Tag: Josh Evans trumpet

Strong Tunesmithing and Bristling Energy on Saxophonist Asaf Yuria’s New Album

There’s nothing sinister or macabre about tenor saxophonist Asaf Yuria‘s new album Exorcisms, streaming at Spotify. More likely, it could be about shaking off the rust and the demons of the most hideous year on record with an inspired, energetic sextet. Yuria plays with a slightly smoky tone and writes translucent, purist tunes whose darkness is understated more often than not. He also has a welcome sense of humor.

He kicks off the album with The Bell Ringers, a catchy, swinging, modally-tinged early 60s Prestige-style number. Yuria takes a cheerily energetic solo; trumpeter Josh Evans descends from the clouds and spirals his way up again; drummer Jason Brown has fun chewing the scenery for a bit. It’s a strong opener.

Lotus Moon is a clave tune with bright horn harmonies that hint at New Orleans, with Evans flurrying while pianist Jeremy Manasia shifts toward a more latin attack, the bandleader pulling hard away from the center up to a wry false ending.

The band follow a resonantly harmonized series of waves as they gather steam in Wise Eyes. Yuria’s bluesiness gives way to bassist Ben Meigners’ spare incisions. Manasia ripples around with allusive disquiet; Brown’s surreal textures behind Yuria’s pensive solo are an imaginative touch.

Although there’s some growl and crush to kick off the album’s title track, it’s more McCoy Tyner than Mike Oldfield, with pulsing horns and perambulating solos from Yuria and trombonist Jonathan Voltzok before Manasia’s allusively fanged attack caps it off.

A percolating clave introduces lustrous horn interchanges which grow livelier as Out of the Mist motors along. Yuria prowls and choose his spots while the band edge further toward Brazil, Voltzok and Evans taking their time, Manasia again seizing the moment to hit the high-beams.

The energy bristles intensely with modal piano and suspenseful horn harmonies as the band launch into Bright Night Light Flight, Voltzok’s bustle receding for Yuria’s rise from carefree to gritty, Manasia bringing a sense of calm this time over Brown’s colorful accents.

The closing number is Mindful Breath, which with its hard-charging, conversational drive is far removed from meditative contemplation, although the band have a great time with it..

Muhal Richard Abrams Leaves Us With a Knowing Wink

Muhal Richard Abrams knew as much about writing for large improvising ensembles as anyone who ever lived. So it’s no surprise that one of his late largescale works, Soundpath, would be as erudite as it is playful and fun. The seventeen-piece Warriors of the Wonderful Sound’s new recording – streaming at Bandcamp – is creative jazz as entertainment, a lively, dynamic uninterrupted, roughly forty-minute suite.

The group are a mix of big names, up-and-coming players and familiar faces from the free jazz demimonde. They unfold this brighty, brassy theme and variations symphonically, with plenty accommodation for individual contributions. Abrams uses every trick in the book to his advantage: false endings, suspenseful foreshadowing with varying numbers of voices, and conversations everywhere. The full ensemble is only engaged all at once in maybe twenty percent of the piece, if that. Otherwise, it’s remarkably spacious, with lots of pairings and moments where the whole orchestra emphatically punches in and out.

The genial, brassy floating swing behind the opening theme recurs throughout the performance, but there are plenty of airy interludes where the rhythm drops out. Pianist Tom Lawton excels in the bad-cop role: he’s the only one who gets anything in the way of disquieting modes. Bassist Michael Formanek is as much rhythmic center, maybe more than drummer Chad Taylor, the latter of whom gets to lead the shenanigans as the coda, with its innumerable moments of amusement, gathers steam.

While there are interludes where this could be any reasonably inspired chordless trio kicking into an energetic solo from the horn player, this is more about interplay, whether via jousting, or the whole ensemble in contrast to a soloist. Bass trombonist Jose Davila’s wryly gruff solo gets a very subtle but no less amusing reality check from Taylor, on his rims. After walking the changes for much of the time, Formanek finally gets to carry a thematic variation by himself amid the orchestra’s densely hovering atmosphere.

There’s a vastly dynamic, duotone-spiced tenor solo – sounds like that’s Hafez Modirzadeh – which cues Taylor that it’s time to introduce a steady clave; the way the polyrhythms shift from there is artful to the extreme. The ending is pure Beethoven: try listening all the way through without smiling. Impossible. At a time when in most parts of the world, music like this is not only illegal to invite an audience to, but also illegal to play, we need recordings like this more than ever to remind us how desperately we need to return to normal. A triumph from a cast that also includes ringleader and alto saxophonists Bobby Zankel, Marty Ehrlich and Julian Pressley; Mark Allen on baritone sax; Robert Debellis on tenor sax;, Steve Swell, Michael Dessen and Al Patterson on trombones; Duane Eubanks, Josh Evans and Dave Ballou on trumpets; and Graham Haynes on cornet.

Endea Owens Brings Her Jazz Party to Lincoln Center

Last night at Lincoln Center, bassist Endea Owens emerged from behind the audience and earned a spontantous clapalong from the crowd on a brisk version of Stevie Wonder’s Higher Ground, getting a growly, funky tone out of her shiny beige Fender Jazz model. The band simmered behind her: Jonathan Thomas on Rhodes, Shenel Johns and Jay Ward on vocals, and a three-piece horn section of Jeffrey Miller on trombone, Irwin Hall on tenor sax and Josh Evans on trumpet. What was coolest was how Owens stuck with tightly coiling riffs and steady walks instead of the slaphappy garbage some four-string people fall into when they plug in.

“The next song is an original composition called Feel Good. Before we get started, I just want to tell you why I wrote it.” The suspense was killing. “I wrote it because I wanted to feel good!” So much for awkward confessions in front of an audience.

Switching to upright, Owens gave her tune the same kind of spring-loaded, riff-driven groove, even during a long crescendoing solo, Evans choosing his spots to blast out of drummer EJ Strickland’s pummeling swing. Owens’ debut album Feel Good Music is due out later this month: truth in advertising.

Johns returned to ease her way airily into Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, the horns slowly rising to a jaunty series of dixieland-tinged licks. Hall matched the cheer of the original in an extended break; Miller chose his spots with a bluesy gravitas. When Johns got to “War is not the answer,” that’s where she really picked it up.

Owens is doing the same thing with soul music that the golden age jazz artists did with showtunes. “Feel good music means thinking about going back home – you’re going to hear a lot of Motown tonight,” the native Detroiter grinned. She likes Donny Hathaway: inspired by a good soundcheck, she scrapped her arrangement of Someday We’ll All Be Free for a simple, summery piano/vocal duet by Thomas and Ward.

Owens wrote For the Brothers in the wake of the murder of Trayvon Martin, but now she sees her resolutely bouncy triplet funk number as something for everybody. “A lot of my friends went through troubles with police brutality…and just being slighted in life, It takes all of us, it doesn’t just take a song, it takes effort from all of us,” she reminded. Triggered by Thomas’ gospel solo, the crowd engaged themselves again.

Owens sent the whole band away for a solo piece, Yesterdays, in D minor, her favorite key as a budding bassist. It was a knockout: gritty and spacious to begin, then a defiant strut spiced with clenched-teeth eighth-notes and an unexpectedly somber ending. The band came back up for a bluesy ba-BUMP take of Can’t Get Next to You, echoed by a Johns/Owens duet of Quincy Jones’ Celie’s Blues.

A percolating minor jump blues also sizzled with Thomas’ sabretoothed modalities and Owens’ jubilantly striding lines. Owens and Johns tried teaching the audience the electric slide, without much luck. Then she and the band ran off to Dizzy’s Club a few blocks south to play a late-night set, where she’ll be through this Saturday night, Feb 15 at 11:30 PM for a measly $10. The mostly-weekly Thursday night free concert series at the Lincoln Center atrium space on Broadway just north of 62nd St. continues on Feb 20 at 7:30 PM with a high-voltage oldschool salsa dura dance party featuring longtime Tito Puente sideman John “Dandy” Rodriguez’s Dream Team band. Get there early if you’re going.

Kelly Green Brings Her Vintage Jazz Voice and Sophisticated Postbop Compositions to Smalls Next Month

The sound of a siren in passing traffic opens pianist/singer Kelly Green’s new album Life Rearranged, streaming at Spotify. In addition to a mix of standards, some striking originals with flashes of greatness pervade this urbane, classy, purist album: Green is someone to keep your eye on. The material is typically on the melancholy side but with occasional wistful humor. Vocally, Sarah Vaughan seems to be an obvious influence; on the keys, Green plays with a strong sense for space and a flair for the unexpected. She and her group are playing the album release show on Dec 13 at 10:30 PM at Smalls; cover is $20 and includes a drink.

The spaciously forlorn opening track is just piano and vocals, a jazz tone poem of sorts until Jonathan Barber’s rustling drums finally come in at the very end before a coda that’s too pricelessly apt and instantly identifiably New York to give away. It’s a good start.

Green’s voice takes on a knowing, resolutely insistent Sarah Vaughan-esque tone in Never Will I Marry, Josh Evans’ trumpet and Green’s judicious piano punctuating this swing shuffle. That similarly emphatic vocal delivery contrasts with her pointillistically striking piano in I’ll Know, Christian McBride’s subtle bass slipping in at the end.

Vibraphonist Steve Nelson adds sunburst and then dapple to Little Daffodil as Green and the band artfully shift meters. A strikingly acerbic, rainy-day chart – Evans and Mike Troy on alto sax  – shade the instrumental ballad If You Thought to Ask Me before Green’s spare, poignant piano enters the picture, followed by a moody muted trumpet solo and a vividly cautious bass solo.

Likewise, the horns fuel the harried, noirish bustle of Culture Shock, Green’s emphatic swipes anchoring a balloon-in-the-wind alto solo. The album’s most epic track, the band descends into dissociative Sketches of Spain allusions and flutter loosely to a tightly wound drums solo before jumping back into the rat race again. Evans’ haggard, frenetic modes and ripples bring the intensity upward as the melody grows more Middle Eastern.

Green’s take of I Should Care plays up the lyrics’ resolute irony, matched by McBride’s playfully dancing bass solo and Green’s carefree ornamentation on the 88s. In the same vein, Sunday in New York becomes a vehicle for both Green’s jaunty, irrepressible vocals and hard-hitting piano, McBride again capping everything off on a high note.

Simple Feelings/The Truth is a darkly lustrous, distantly latin-tinged midtempo postbop number, building from austere and ambered to a lively sax/trumpet interweave. Green brings the lights down for a dreamy piano/vibes/vocals take of If I’m Lucky, followed by the scrambling All of You, Troy’s alto scampering through the storm. Green reprises the title track at the album’s end as a full-scale instrumental theme with solos all around and a wry trumpet quote or two. On one hand, it’s great that she has her vocal side: there are unlimited gigs for that. What’s most auspicious is her own compositions, and the outside-the-box sensibility that pervades them. Champian Fulton did an all-instrumental album: maybe Green should be next.

A Darkly Brilliant New Album and a Release Show Tomorrow Night at Smalls by Saul “Zeb” Rubin

When he’s not running a loft – where for a couple of years he backed just about every A-list jazz singer on this continent – this cat is the great unsung hero of jazz guitar in New York City. An economy of notes and laser-like purpose define Saul “Zeb” Rubin, sideman to the stars. While there’s no hip bebop voicing that’s off-limits in his book, where he excels with such consistency and understated power is when he goes deep into the dark, grittier side of his own picturesque, shadowy compositions, bristling with suspense and implied menace. In that sense, he’s the missing link between Gene Bertoncini and Bill Frisell. He gets props for writing charts and playing guitar in the Roy Hargrove Big Band, and he’s a regular Sonny Rollins sideman. But his best material ultimately might be his own. His new album, his third, is titled Zeb’s Place, a shout-out to the second-floor Chelsea studio space where he held court and brought in a parade of talented singers to rival the Vanguard. He’s playing the album release show tomorrow night, Nov 6 at 7:30 at Smalls with his “Zebtet” – trumpeter Josh Evans, alto saxophonist Lummie Spann, tenor saxophonist Stacy Dillard, trombonist Frank Lacy, bassist Jonathan Michel and drummer Brandon Lewis.

It’s a mix of both originals and standards with pretty much the same band plus some special guests. Rubin distinguishes himself as a multi-instrumentalist, playing both electric bass, piano and keyboards on several of the numbers here. The bandstand-burner Android opens the album with a bright four-horn frontline, purposefully brief solos all around, Rubin’s own terse, boisterously witty cascades at the center. Those same horns give a lowlit lustre to the slowly swinging, funk-tinged Oh God Show Me the Way, Dillard’s enigmatically strolling lines building a lattice before Rubin himself delivers a pensive three-way conversation, on guitar, bass guitar and string synth.

The first of four standards here, Billy Reid’s The Gypsy is a rapturous duet with Hargrove, Rubin’s judiciously voicing his chords and the spaces around them in tandem with his longtime collaborator’s airy flugelhorn melody. Rubin opens the eerily cinematic diptych Mean Old Joe/Darkness on piano, building to a brooding crescendo spiced with Lewis’ spare cymbals; then the arrangement expands with moody, noir horns, up to a harrowing Evans trumpet cadenza. Dillard shifts to brighter terrain over angst-fueled flurries as the piano carries the theme to its darkly latin-tinged conclusion.

The group does Thomas Chapin’s Who? as a briskly resonant bossa, Dillard and Evans each following a a tenderly melismatic trajectory up to Rubin’s understatedly impactful, fluttering tremolo chords and hammer-on lines. Rubin’s own slinky stroll Cobi Narita gives tenorist Ned Goold a platform for spaciously lowdown prowling matched by the guitarist’s pensive, low-key chordal attack and shadowy solo.

Rubin goes to the well for a couple of standards, making an epically furtive, haunting bossa and then shadowy swing out of All or Nothing at All in a trio setting with Neal Caine on bass and Charles Goold on drums. Rubin’s starkly direct, solo take of Autumn in New York draws a straight line back to Joe Pass and Jim Hall, a rapt kaleidoscope of shifting harmonies. The final number is Rubin’s own coy Halal Falafel, a funny, surreal, hip-hop flavored tribute to New York Middle Eastern street food. There will no doubt be plenty of uneasy urban tableaux, purist sophistication and babaganoush-fueled wit onstage at Smalls tomorrow night.

A Wild Night at Smalls with Trombone Legend Frank Lacy

Trombonist/singer Frank Lacy is the extrovert star of the Mingus bands. He also leads his own groups. His latest album, Live at Smalls captures him with an inspired, straight-ahead postbop band – Josh Evans on trumpet, Stacy Dillard on tenor sax, Theo Hill on piano, Rashaan Carter on bass and Kush Abadey, this unit’s not-so-secret weapon, on drums – on parts of two hot nights in mid-October, 2012 on their home turf. Lacy can be much more avant garde than he is here: this is a showcase for lively interplay, pitch-and-follow and blazing gutbucket jazz-lounge entertainment. You can feel the heat: Ben Rubin’s engineering on this record puts you right there in the room. They celebrate the album’s release at the club on May 6 at 10:30 PM; cover is $20 which includes a beverage.

For Lacy, this is more of a showcase for leading a band than it is for blazing solos (after all, he can do that anytime he wants). And he’s a generous leader: the two most electrifying solos on the album belong to Evans – choosing his spots up to a series of wickedly rapidfire spirals on a steady, briskly strolling take of Charles Fambrough’s Alicia – and Dillard, soaring and sliding and throwing in some shivery doublestops on soprano sax on Lacy’s own gospel-infleced Spirit Monitor. Lacy also gives a characteristically witty clinic in how to pull the band out of a lull a little earlier during that tune.

Lacy’s also a distinctive singer, with a gritty falsetto that’s just as powerful as his lower register. It’s too bad that there’s only one vocal number here, Carolyn’s Dance, a series of long crescendos for the band members as Abadey rides the traps with all sorts of neat, unexpected jabs and crashes.

Dilllard’s boisterous bluesiness contrasts with Lacy’s more judicious attack on the summery, funky sway of Joe Bonner’s Sunbath. Lacy’s opening track, Stranded, works a catchy, chromatically-charged altered latin groove up to a tireless swing, a launching pad for everybody in the band. They follow that with a lustrous take of George Cables’ bossa-tinged Think on Me. They wind up the album with a good choice of closer, Freddie Hubbard’s The Intrepid Fox where Evans predictably gets called on to deliver the firepower and makes it look easy as the band swings it breathlessly. It’s surprising that more venues don’t do what Smalls does, recording all their shows (they have a subscription service for that) and releasing the creme de la creme on their Smalls Live label. Then again, Smalls takes the idea of community more seriously than most venues.