OK, I wasn't there. But as a huge appreciator and fan of the more powerful statements Jazz has produced over the years, this seems a pointless and wrong headed exercise in corporate and civic presentation of what was once great music. Believe it or not, this picture represents a performance of the album Giant Steps (John Coltrane). Kind Of Blue (Miles Davis, Coltrane, Bill Evans, etc) also got the treatment.
This is like, as I once said here, "Muddy Waters - the Broadway musical!" Jazz at Lincoln Center is a creature of Wynton Marsalis. Who happens to hate the later, more adventuresome works of almost all the best players Jazz has produced since 1945.
It never changes. The reviewer states,
And in “Giant Steps” itself, Coltrane’s harmonic — steeplechase — étude, the band took special pains to play with expectations, flickering between a ballad tempo and the tune’s proper fast pace. But all through the set were surprises: solos, duos, four-way collective improvising, bass-clarinet interludes. With disparate phrasing and tone, the saxophonists varied the moods, and where they actually tried to replicate Coltrane’s loud, hard cry, they chose carefully.
That keening almost always came from the fourth saxophonist, George Garzone, who could reproduce it without seeming glib, through a real understanding of Coltrane’s improvising strategies and his own modest gusto. It was good to hear, even better because he offered only a taste of it.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/14/ar..._r=1&th&emc=th
"Keening" is a nice term for me when describing a tenor sax tone, say Jan Garbarek's, but to this crowd it means "Irritating Noise." I also doubt that the bass clarinet work was of the bold, brilliant sort Eric Dolphy (another guy whose work Wynton loathes, by the way) became known for. (I could be wrong there. I in no way blame the musicians on the stage. It is the promoters of these events who are, for better or worse, responsible.)
In other words, we knowing Brahamans with our suits, donated money and expensively dressed audience in upolstered seats know that later Coltrane was crappy non musical noise and we will prove it by showing you how wonderful the sanitized, good taste version of it really is.
I say God help us, and get us to the small clubs and cafes where the real thing is still occasionally found.
If there is a room in hell waiting for me it will be a concert hall like this. And if there is one waiting for the suits who would enjoy that, it will be a never ending set by Albert Ayler.
Happy Valentine's Day,
Clark