Double-bass player Linda May Han Oh is renowned for her excellent playing, and this time we had the opportunity to discover the composer and bandleader. Her work with Cuban-American pianist Fabian Almazan (her husband, as it appears) and drummer Mark Whitfield Jr (son of the guitarist who was once a member of the Tonight Show house band) is exciting and adventurous, without abandoning the jazz groove.

There are several rhythmic changes within each work, hatching is part of his compositional language, and everyone’s improvisations are part of this aesthetic. Emitted in conjunction with her large instrument, her vocalizations add depth to her aesthetic, without suggesting exceptional singing.

The double bass playing is always melodic, the articulation exemplary, the sound not extremely rich but well above average. In short, this 40-year-old has become a model of accomplishment, and it’s no surprise that she plays with the best and leads an outstanding band.

As for Fabian Almazan, he’s an excellent pianist (and keyboardist), his angular signature carries beautiful harmonic charges, his phrases are very often singular, he can count on an agile and supple right hand, and you’d have to listen to him more to get a clearer idea of his left hand. Interestingly, he avoids many Latin piano clichés, preferring the jazz tradition as developed in North America with its classical-contemporary extensions.

To round things off, drummer Mark Whitfield Jr. listens attentively to his colleagues and never overdoes it, although this does not rule out a few polyrhythmic virtuosos.

Delayed by twenty minutes or so due to rain on this Wednesday, this 8pm concert was able to finish later, so we were treated to almost the full hour promised. The jazz gods convinced the cloud gods…

If you were to ask a jazz musician to describe what it’s like to play in a trio they would likely answer “exposed.” When there is suddenly one rhythm instrument, one bass instrument, and one instrument covering melody and harmony, (or at least implying harmony), each musical decision and interaction carries more weight.

However, with that exposure also comes more freedom to move in and out of different roles. The drums could look to play melodically with careful drum selection and tuning; the bass could look to play full chords; and the guitar could look to establish a groove with dead muted notes. And in addition to all that, polyphonic moments from all involved also become a tasteful possibility. 

Bill Frisell, Thomas Morgan, and Rudy Royston achieved these various feats (and others), as they blurred the lines of their instrument’s roles from one moment to the next. And it was fantastic to see.

During the opening song, we saw a prime example of polyphony in action as the trio played a jaunty and groovy tune. The bass and guitar played up and down their necks, inventing various lines and counterlines on the major scale.

This was after Frisell gave us an intro consisting of harmonics and a loop pedal. At various moments, things turned on a dime with moments of pointillistic dissonance, sections of blues rock, fuzzy 70s style rock, and sweet ballads all being played in quick succession.

Personally, my favourite selection of the evening was Billy Strayhorn’s “Isfahan” which Frisell interpreted with bluesy licks here and there.

Truly, my biggest takeaway from the evening was the decades spanning musical experience of this trio. In the moments where the music devolved into rock from a shuffle or swing, for example, it dawned on me that lesser players might try the same thing and have it sound like a cheap gimmick if unschooled in the genres. At seventy-four, however, Frisell experienced much of this music as it was being developed.

Rock, and post-bop for example, were being developed in his lifetime, and he internalized them sincerely and legitimately as a consequence, it seems to me. Incidentally, one of my favourite Frisell albums is Guitar in the Space Age! (2014) in which he interprets various ’60s selections in his unique way.

Indeed, on full display the entire evening was the trio’s experience where musical choices, and interactions were concerned, but so too was their wealth of knowledge of jazz and rock and their ability to fuse the genres with ease.

Branford Marsalis took to the stage at Theatre Maisonneuve alongside his longstanding quartet, consisting of pianist Joey Calderazzo, bassist Eric Revis, and drummer Justin Faulkner. This is a configuration that has been intact since their 2012 release Four MF’s Playin’ Tunes, but the musical relationships between these ‘MF’s’ goes back further than that, and their familiarity is clear to see.

As it happens, the set started the same way the 2012 album did, with a Calderazzo composition titled “The Mighty Sword.” The band passed the melody around and played with a broken time feel, obscuring the beat slightly, before Faulkner introduced a more grounding pulse. Calderazzo took the first solo amid notably busy drum comping. This may have posed issues in lesser musicians but the interplay between the band members was such that nobody got in each other’s way. Branford took the next solo, starting during something of a climax. This created an interesting dynamic arc for the piece as a whole, which ended not with a typical restating of the main melody, but with a sharp cutoff at the end of Marsalis’ solo.

The rest of the set was just as full of surprises, with the band cycling through a mixture of original compositions, reinterpretations of classic jazz repertoire, and multiple Keith Jarrett selections – unsurprising seeing as the band’s latest release is a tune-for-tune reimagining of Jarrett’s album Belonging. There were entire songs played entirely in rubato time, without ever establishing a clear tempo, solos that softly emerged from collective improvisations, and tunes that nodded to the swing era at the start before finishing in a feel more similar to John Coltrane’s early 1960’s output. Perhaps the biggest surprise of the night came from Justin Faulkner’s touch on the drums; I have rarely (if ever) seen a jazz drummer hit the drums as hard as he did. There were several moments where the drumming called to mind heavy metal styles more than jazz, almost overwhelming the ear but never ceasing to serve the music.

Something else worth noting is the way the quartet handled standards from the 1920’s and 30’s – Fred Fisher’s “There Ain’t No Man (Worth the Salt of My Tears)” and Jimmy McHugh’s “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” These selections contrasted from the rest of the set, with the arrangements clearly leaning towards the idiom of jazz’s early days while incorporating more contemporary approaches to tempo, rhythm, tone, and harmony. The group never fully settled into the swing era here, but never fully left it either, settling uniquely  into something of an ‘uncanny valley’ and demonstrating a shared respect for this music’s rich history.

The lasting musical relationships Marsalis and co. displayed demonstrate a clear understanding of each other’s individual sounds as well as that of the collective. That being said there is also a sense that on a different night, audiences might hear something completely different than what they played at Maisonneuve. Their music is tight and well-grounded, and yet, nothing seems to be off limits.

Drummer Nate Smith assembled a supremely talented quartet for his show on June 30th; indeed, this lineup and their musical abilities had the audience at the Jean-Duceppe Theatre absolutely captivated. This was best evidenced by the cheers and requests for a third encore, which, understandably but unfortunately, would never arrive.

During the show’s preamble, Smith made a point to explain he was not truly “leading” this quartet consisting of Lalah Hathaway on vocals, James Francies on piano and synths, and Derrick Hodge on bass. Instead, he preferred to say that he was “hosting” this quartet since he held each member in such high esteem. And it’s true, it felt less like Smith was leading them as compared to a collaboration of the minds.

As concerns the music itself, I, of course, cannot describe a Nate Smith show without describing his drumming. For me it’s the epitome of “feel” and “groove.” In most things he plays, even when not expressly playing a backbeat with a big 2 and 4, one is implied. When he employs more ghostnotes or moves in and out of a sextuplet feel, a fat “groove” is still discerned. Smith gets a lot of mileage out of a four piece kit too since so much of what he does is concentrated in the bass drum, snare, and hi-hat. He does, of course, deviate from this and will play around the entire kit; however, with his style being so influenced by hip-hop, sometimes those three elements are enough for long stretches of his playing. In other words, he does a lot with just a little.

The lead synth sounds of James Francies were also a highlight for me. I couldn’t begin to describe the specific settings or the model he was using, but a well-chosen synth sound can be supremely important or you risk having your well-crafted solos sound cheesy by the tone of your synth alone. Francies sound selection and the playing choices were excellent, however.

Hodge’s bass solos were a little harder to appreciate, however. I found myself straining to hear exactly what he was playing as the EQ was a bit off. At times there weren’t enough high frequencies in his bass sound which made his various hammer-ons, pull-offs, and tapping runs harder to hear. This was remedied a few times by employing an octave pedal to play up the octave for some added clarity. It was well needed and one of my favorite “modern jazz” sounds; that is to say, a bass solo high on the fretboard with an octave pedal. Unfortunately this problem would come up again throughout the show as the bass drum and the bass guitar were fighting for the same frequencies.

Lalah Hathaway made her appearance closer toward the end of the show and impressed with her clear, held, straight tone, notes. On a few occasions, she would invent a run or embellishment and finish it with a note that she would hold without vibrato as if she was a horn. Not always the easiest thing to do. I only wish she had come out sooner because she joined the band for all of twenty-five minutes, it seemed to me.

The night would close with a second encore consisting of Smith playing a little drum solo and the audience clapping on two and four. He would play around with the established pulse by dropping the first beat, coming in on a small subdivision a hair before or after the main beats and employing slick triplet feels. It is his custom. It is his sound. And it absolutely killed. No wonder everyone wanted a third encore.

photo by Frédérique-Ménard-Aubin