Gil Evans Centennial Celebration! Village Voice Article
Live: Paul Shaffer And Others Pay Tribute To Gil Evans At Highline Ballroom
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K. Leander Williams/tru2blupix |
Gil Evans Centennial Celebration
Highline Ballroom
Monday, May 21
Better than: Never witnessing a world-class band in action.
I'm actually fortunate enough to have caught the Gil Evans Orchestra
in the '80s, before it became a ghost band. Back then, when the slew of
clubs lining Seventh Avenue South below West 11th made that stretch
prime jazz real estate, Evans was the genius you could still get within
handshaking distance of every Monday night at Sweet Basil. By that time
the Miles Davis collaborations that had made the arranger's reputation
were decades in the past, and Evans, then in his seventies, seemed
content to leave them there—much like Miles had. Anyone who came to
Sweet Basil looking to hear silky bits from Birth Of The Cool, Sketches Of Spain or Miles Ahead
was often in for a shock; the graceful French horns, tubas and flutes
were on hand, but the arrangements were spiked with raucous grooves and
guitar (borrowed from Jimi Hendrix and punk) as well as the noise of the
avant-garde. Evans, born Ian Ernest Gilmore Green in Toronto, would
flash a wide-eyed grin and make subtle gestures as his weekly groupings
of the scene's most vibrant young sessioneers came together—and on many
occasions fell apart.
David Letterman's longtime sidekick/bandleader Paul Shaffer hinted at
this ferment last night while hosting the final show of last week's Gil
Evans Centennial. (A different orchestra, led by trombonist-arranger
Ryan Truesdell, had spent much of the week revisiting some of Evans's
earlier music at the Jazz Standard.) In his introduction, Shaffer
contrasted the polish of the iconic music with the "living organism" the
audience was about to experience. Any ominousness in that statement was
leavened to some degree by the fact that this was also an all-star
reunion; nearly every chair in the 17-piece outfit was filled by someone
who'd come of age under Evans's baton, and Evans's son Noah was quick
to point out that percussionist Airto Moreira had traveled from the West
Coast, while guitarist Ryo Kawasaki made it here from his current home
in Estonia. The sax section included Billy Harper, Brit transplant Chris
Hunter, Howard Johnson and the Saturday Night Live band's Alex
Foster; the trumpets, Jon Faddis and Evans stalwart Lew Soloff. It was a
reminder that even though Evans maintained the bearing of a humble
wizard with a baton, his bands had a strategy: He chose band members who
were equally capable of wizardry. Merely playing the notes in his
charts wasn't enough.
Perhaps fittingly, for the first 55 minutes of the celebration's
two-plus hours, it was the orchestra of a perennial futurist's dreams.
The opener harked back to bebop era but was clearly not of it, and the
version of "Goodbye Porkpie Hat" that followed kicked off with a Hunter
alto solo that telegraphed the orchestra's muscularity. (Gil Goldstein's
keyboard textures gave off an immersive, rattling buzz.) Although
Shaffer stayed out of the way for much of the evening, he gave Hendrix's
"Little Wing" the appropriate minute detail with a toy glockenspiel
while his Letterman show sideman Will Lee sang and trumpeter Lew Soloff
got off a torrential solo, alternating long tones and sputters. On any
other bandstand that might have been hard to top, but then the next
piece, "Teen Town," did just that; Alex Foster's extended soprano solo
unleashed a funky breakdown that brought the house down.
But then, unfortunately, things fell apart kinda like a point guard
losing the dribble on fast break. It was a combination of an arbitrarily
conceived video tribute to other jazz greats (I'd have preferred a live
version of Evans's classic "La Nevada" rather than a backing track);
the need to get the numerous special guests queued up in the wings
onstage for cameos; and other vocal showcases which left that brilliant
one-night-only horn section sitting idle for perilously long stretches.
By then, neither the evening's only Miles Davis nod ("Summertime") nor
homages to Jimi ("Stone Free", "Voodoo Chile") could get things back on
track.
Critical bias: I miss being able to hear a variety of orchestras weekly.
Overheard: "I wonder if any of these kids know who Jaco Pastorius was."
Set list:
Bud & Bird
Goodbye Porkpie Hat
Little Wing
Teen Town
There Comes A Time
Lost
Stone Free
Summertime
Voodoo Chile
Moonstruck