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Wynton Marsalis Septet
Live at the Village Vanguard
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Wynton Marsalis |
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.. Wynton Marsalis has
created a controversial position for himself in jazz. By his combative interviews, in
which he denies the aesthetic value of practically all jazz recorded in post-1965 styles
(be they fusion or avant-garde), he has set himself up as a
reactionary. Many avant-garde musicians have come to regard his music alternately as
irrelevant or the work of an outright nemesis, without considering the genuine verve and
flashes of brilliance he brings to his best performances.
Live at the Village Vanguard (seven cd boxed set)),
priced to move, seems intended to offer a defense of Marsalis the musician, and a
banishment of the specter of Marsalis the self-appointed judge. It accomplishes this
easily, and more, and indeed is probably the only Wynton Marsalis album a casual listener
will ever need, encapsulating as it does all the virtues of live jazz, and of the
trumpeters own styles, as composer and player.
Its seven discs
provide a plethora of excellent performances by all bandmembers, including Marsalis
himself, who is a hell of a trumpeter when he abandons his role as historian and spokesman
for the music and merely plays. Though his tone is often overly smooth and fuzzy (denoting
his roots in New Orleans, rather than the hard-bitten Northern styles that produced Miles,
Dizzy, and Clifford Brown, or even modern players like Tim Hagans or Marcus Printup), his
soloing is excellent, and his choice of material is wide-ranging (over seven discs, only
two tracks repeat - there are two versions each of "Cherokee" and
"Embraceable You").
The sets are evenly
divided between originals and standards, with an unexpected sub-theme: Marsalis devotes an
extraordinary amount of stage-time to the work of Thelonious Monk, performing
"Monks Mood", "Reflections", "Four In One",
"Evidence", "Misterioso", "Thelonious", and "Bright
Mississippi" (at least one Monk tune per the first five sets, and two each on Discs
Four and Five). The stylistic disjunction may puzzle the listener, particularly a listener
familiar with Monks own versions of these pieces. Marsaliss smooth and
swinging delivery is almost completely at odds with Monks herky-jerky, deliberately
off-center rhythms, and Marsaliss pianists (Marcus Roberts and Eric Reed) are miles
from the playing-with-your-elbows style Monk favored on albums like Misterioso or his solo Thelonious Himself.
Overall, though, the
bands (three different lineups are represented, from performances between 1991 and 1994)
swing hard, and the listener is never bored by the music; solos are integral and melodic
without being overly sappy, and styles vary substantially from set to set and even track
to track. A given disc may shift from a Horace Silver-like hard-bop workout to a growling
New Orleans blues in an instant, and then head into one of Marsaliss melodic, if
overly prettified, Monk interpretations.
The final two discs
are primarily taken up by extended works, but the casual listener should not be deterred.
The 55-minute "In the Sweet Embrace Of Life" is in fact one of the highlights of
the box, a romping piece that may well find the listener dancing madly about the room.
And, not to dwell too heavily on commercial concerns, but for the price, this is an
invaluable artifact, one which shows that Wynton Marsalis, despite his often-alienating
stance on the music, can and has contributed something truly vital to the continuing
history of American jazz.
- Phil Freeman