Miles Davis stopped by Chicago last week, and not a moment too soon.
“I don’t want to be called a ‘legend.’ … A legend is an old man with a cane known for what he used to do,” a disembodied Davis rasped over the Symphony Center speakers. “I don’t like to be labeled as anything but a musician.”
Hear, hear. “Legends” aren’t just aged — they’re unassailable. But when we venerate, too often, we flatten. The most revelatory jazz is mortal, not divine; it shimmies out on a limb and stays there till it snaps.
Nowhere was this clearer than at Symphony Center on Friday night, which paired bassist Ron Carter — his Golden Striker trio making its venue debut — with the newly minted Blue Note Quintet. Promoting Blue Note Records’ 85th anniversary through a staggering 35-date tour, the quintet is the tastemaking label’s latest supergroup: pianist Gerald Clayton, vibist Joel Ross, alto saxophonist Immanuel Wilkins, drummer Kendrick Scott and bassist Matt Brewer. Meanwhile, Carter, the most-recorded jazz bassist in history, is two years older than Blue Note itself, and still playing with the same spirited curiosity he has for decades. Two “legends,” back-to-back, with Carter and company first up and Blue Note after them.
Swap that order, for starters. Blue Note veneration aside, most attendees were there to catch Carter, as empty seats after intermission amply demonstrated.
Those seats only got emptier as the Quintet’s set crawled on. Operating a laptop along with his piano and synthesizer, Clayton interspersed an otherwise unbroken suite of music with vague, contextless soundbites from Davis (hence all that “legend” talk), Wayne Shorter and others. The originals themselves never left the neighborhood of jittery but safe post-bop.
The angular rhythms, open-ended structures and mostly tame progressions made for fine solo stages — especially by Scott, a drummer who balances smirking unpredictability with a fiercely loyal deference to ensemble balance. But back away from the trees to take in the forest, and this anniversary bash looked more like an exercise in practiced coolness than anything fresh or insightful.
Such is the supergroup’s dilemma. The Quintet features some of the most virtuosic musicians active on the global stage, as their own Blue Note discographies attest. Ross’ “nublues,” just released, has the busy brilliance of stained glass, and one could listen to Scott’s “Corridors” (2023) a hundred times and hear something new on each listen. Toss supernovas like these together, however, and they occasionally snuff each other out rather than reflecting one another’s brilliance. So it was on Friday, when these mighty lions more or less roared past one another.
A worthy salute to Blue Note — the daring, sporting Blue Note, not the one puffed by its own prestige — doesn’t need to be a history lesson, or a tribute carved from marble. But it had better have a pulse. Statues, famously, don’t.
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Carter and his Golden Striker partners gave the evening its much-needed heart. Their charming hour-plus set leaned on the repertoire the combo has recorded, and burnished, since the Mulgrew Miller days.
Donald Vega, also a bright spot in Carter’s Foursight quartet, has held down Miller’s spot on keys for years now. A serene, sensitive melodist, he was rightly lavished upon with a semi-starring role on Friday. Russell Malone brought the numbers sophisticated texture and depth — one moment he was a de facto percussionist, unpitched strums doing what a hi-hat might, the next a watercolorist, his guitar pealing with reverberant tones.
Ever a gentleman, Carter dedicated two numbers in the set to departed musicians: “Cedar Tree,” Malone’s tribute to Jazz Messengers pianist Cedar Walton, and his own “Candle Light,” honoring guitarist and former duet partner Jim Hall. Throughout the night, Carter took care to acknowledge applause in the terrace during solo bows and made earnest comments between numbers. Like how he challenges himself to learn a new word every day.
That night’s? “Giddy.”
“And I feel giddy, times 12,” he told Symphony Center.
Right back at you, Ron. The trio brought an uptempo, Latin flair to “A Nice Song,” another Carter original. Because the Golden Strikers “weren’t here on the 14th,” they worked in a gradually building rendition of “My Funny Valentine,” Vega’s intro ghostly and wistful.
Their set closed in the same genially swinging mode in which it began, with Fletcher Anderson’s “Soft Winds.” (At one point, a clever bass tendril by Carter briefly detoured into “So What?”) Formally closed, at least: the Strikers saved a caressing “There Will Never Be Another You” as an encore.
The honorary finale, though, was Carter’s signature extended solo, just before “Soft Winds.” Just as he did at last year’s Jazz Festival, he migrated from “You Are My Sunshine” to the prelude of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1.
Sure, Carter has done this live and on record a thousand times, to the point where one is practically waiting for Bach’s famous arpeggios to crest from his bass. But on Friday, that quote, in its spirited approximation and bottomless delight — giddiness! — had more heart in its 45 seconds than the Blue Note squad managed in 45 minutes.
No “legends” here. Just great artists, deep and true, doing what they’ve always done.
Hannah Edgar is a freelance writer.
Hannah Edgar , 2024-02-18 12:00:53
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