[Dixielandjazz] The Big Bands - "For Listening Only"

[Steve barbone]

>From the Kenton Chat List. Written by Doug Ramsey for "Rifftides".  While
lengthy it is an interesting article. Contrast this story about a "for
listening" band with those swing bands "for dancing" that preceded it. In
their hey day, big bands (and Dixieland Bands) played popular music mostly
for dancing. Now they don't. Hmmmmmmm.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

Maria Schneider At Jazz Alley
There was a time when big jazz bands were so numerous and held in such
esteem that the best of them might show up virtually anywhere in the United
States, no matter how small the town: Duke Ellington in Fargo, North Dakota;
Artie Shaw in Palacios, Texas; Woody Herman in Eugene, Oregon; Stan Kenton
in Redlands, California; Count Basie in a succession of one-nighters across
the upper Midwest. It was an era in which good music and popular music were
often one and the same. The swing era thrived for only a decade or so. The
bonanza of big bands began to fade in the late forties. By the end of the
1950s, it had pretty much played out. Now, most of the big bands that tour
are attached to the names of dead leaders. They tend to play country clubs,
corporate functions and-now and then-private parties of the wealthy.

There are, of course, innovative large jazz ensembles, among them The
Vanguard Orchestra, the Bill Holman Band, the Mingus Big Band, Bob
Brookmeyer's New Arts Orchestra, the Jon Faddis New York Band, The Seattle
Repertory Jazz Orchestra, the Blue Wisp Big Band, the Columbus Jazz
Orchestra, the Mike Vax band, Holland's amazing Metropole Orchestra,
Germany's powerhouse WDR Big Band and, perhaps most discussed these days,
the Maria Schneider Orchestra. Chains of one-nighters used to draw bands
across the country, providing music for millions and, at the swing era's
peak, employment and experience for thousands of young musicians. The supply
of jazz players today is large, the demand for them small. The primary law
of economics dictates that the few big bands mostly stay put, rehearsing
regularly and working rarely-once a week when they're lucky, and usually for
little money. When they do travel, it is often to big European festivals,
seldom to those in the U.S.

It is unusual, nearly unheard of, for a big band based on the east coast to
tour in the west, so when the Maria Schneider Orchestra played Seattle's
Jazz Alley for two nights this week, the club was packed. Whether that
indicates hunger for the music or response to all the publicity she has been
getting lately is beside the point. The evening I was there, 350 people
listened with concentration and appreciation to a cross-section of
Schneider's compositions from her five albums. She also unveiled two new
pieces.

"Some nights are better than others," the band's baritone saxophonist, Scott
Robinson, said afterward at the bar. "This was a good one." Good for the
band and for Robinson. His solo over the langorous subtleties of Schneider's
suspended ensemble backgrounds in "Sea of Tranquility" displayed his
technical control and emotional range from the big horn's deep bottom to its
altissimo top, where most baritone players do not or cannot go. Robinson's
judiciously applied throat sounds and split tones contributed to the logic
and beauty of the solo. In its creativity it was miles beyond what he did
with the piece in Schneider's 2000 CD Allegresse. Robinson has played it
dozens of times since. Familiarity breeds insights.

It is a writer's band, and the writer populates it with musicians who play
her demanding compositions with virtuoso skill and provide ensemble
cohesiveness that can come only from long, close association. Most of the
band's members have been with Schneider as long as Robinson has. They are
from the cream of New York players and include some of the music's most
individual improvisers in a period of jazz not overflowing with
individuality. Among the memorable soloists at Jazz Alley was Steve Wilson
on "Sky Blue," a new composition. Schneider told the audience that she wrote
it after a friend died. It is a hymn, not a dirge. Wilson's soprano
saxophone tone has breadth and depth rather than the pinched snake-charmer
sound favored by many who play the horn. His solo was a marvel of structural
unity and passionate delivery. "He took my breath away," said the woman on
the next bar stool, "he's beautiful." (The bar is the best place in Jazz
Alley for sight lines and balanced sound. Don't tell anyone; I want to be
able to get a seat there the next time.)

A new Schneider piece,"The Pretty Road," is yet to be recorded, something to
anticipate. It has to do with her memories of growing up in Windom,
Minnesota, "the environment of my past," she said. She has layered into it
little references to things she recalls-church music, childhood songs, a
meadowlark, the sight of the town from a hilltop at night. It is program
music of a high order. She featured on flugelhorn and trumpet Ingrid Jensen,
who soloed with the self-editing of increased maturity that leavens her
spirited virtuosity. The dynamics of Schneider's ensembles in the piece were
meticulously shaped-almost micro-managed-by her graceful but definite
conducting. 

As the band was about to launch into its final number, a woman in the
audience cried out, "Why don't you sing, Maria?" Ah, of course, a pretty
woman on a bandstand must be a singer. Every female jazz musician has dealt
with the stereotyping a hundred times. Schneider responded with good humor,
"Some night I'm going to do that. I'll sing 'My Ideal,' and you'll go
running."

Through the evening, there were fine solo moments from trombonist Rock
Ciccarone, alto saxophonist Charles Pillow, Greg Gisbert on trumpet and
flugelhorn, pianist Frank Kimbrough, tenor saxophonist Rich Perry and, in
the flamenco surge of "Buleria, Soleá Y Rumba," a wild few moments from
tenor saxophonist Donny McCaslin. McCaslin's ardor was so appropriate to the
spirit of the music, his solo so entwined with Schneider's ensemble passages
that when a man at the bar was moved to give a loud whoop, dagger stares
from those around him discouraged further interference. It was a listening
crowd. John Wikan on cajon and Peruvian percussionist Hugo Alcaraz swelled
the band to twenty members for this three-part Spanish extravaganza.
Following Gisbert's memorable flugelhorn solo, the interaction among Wikan,
Alcaraz and drummer Clarence Penn, punctuated hilariously by Penn's cowbell
triplets, concluded in a feat of rhythmic precision that brought the piece
to an abrupt halt, setting off a joyous roar from the audience. Now it was
okay to whoop. 

Maria Schneider does not sing. She writes music. Her band sings it for her.