Behold the before-and-after glory of the Chicken Inferno, 10th edition. Even better, check out this cool time-lapse video.
Behold the before-and-after glory of the Chicken Inferno, 10th edition. Even better, check out this cool time-lapse video.
Wednesday I met Greg for the David Murray and his Black Saint Quartet. As John Nugent noted in his introduction, Murray is a true student of jazz, and you could hear it in his performance. His music drew from a variety of influences, yet was grounded in solid jazz.
While Greg took in the All-Star Jam Session at the Eastman Theater, I trekked over to the Harro East Ballroom to catch up with Seth and see the Wild Magnolias. They did their best to rev up the crowd with their NOLA party attitude and feather costumes, but as the show went on, the crowd thinned out.
Knowing that we wanted to head over to the Plaza Hotel Jam Session early enough to get a good seat, but not wanting to get there too early, we decided to grab a drink at the recently opened Abilene Bar and Lounge. As such things go, we were having too much fun to make it over to State Street in a timely fashion so we ended up standing next to Greg and Jane as a steady stream of jazz all stars (including many of the All Stars that played at Eastman earlier.) Clearly this was the night to stay out late at the after hours as Jeremy Pelt, Eric Alexander, Peter Bernstein, Kenny Washington, Steve Wilson, and crowd favorite Jake Shimabukuro all sat in. If you had to pick one night to stay out late for the jam session, this would have been the night (but, really, why limit yourself?).
Thursday night was a quick one for me. Local legend Joe Locke at the Kilbourn, where the crowd (deservedly) gave him all the love he could stand. Then it was more Nordic jazz with Beady Belle. Actually, it was more of a soul/r&b/funk/jazz kind of thing, akin to the Stephanie McKay show I saw earlier in the week. Beady Belle definitely wasn't as hard-edged as McKay and not quite as engaging, but there was a darkness underlying the soulful melodies that, even while they got your head bobbing and foot tapping, was still a bit unsettling. A bit like Portishead, maybe, only not quite so much. Anyway, I headed home for bed shortly afterward, to recuperate for the final two nights.
Friday night began a little late for me, but I still was able to meet up with Greg on jazz street. Our indecision coupled with a desire for food that was not served from an outdoor stall prompted us to grab a couple of sandwiches from Java's and snag a table on the sidewalk, where we were able to ear some of the local acts on the Jazz St. stage.
Finally, we stretched our legs and headed toward Alexander to catch some of the Skatelites before heading back to join Jane in line at the Montage. Jane, trooper that she is, had been waiting first in line for hours. Thankfully, we got prime seating up close to see Billy's Band, who was more or less a Russian Tom Waits cover band. Not that this is a bad thing. The show was a blast, easily one of the festival highlights. We wound up the night at Abilene listening to reggae in the peaceful back patio area.
Saturday I got another late start, but I only ad two items on my agenda: Medeski Martin and Wood and the Bob Sneider jam session. MMW was fun, but unfortunately not as fun as they were when I had seen them earlier in the year; however, the after hours jam session made up for it as Bob, Mike Melito, and Phil Flanigan brought the festival to a close in style, complete with the traditional Mordecai Lipshutz swan song.
Another great festival. Final thoughts to come in the next few days. Meanwhile, check out Greg's wrapup and his plenitude of links to other jazz commentators and fans.
]]>After that, we sprinted over to the Reformation Lutheran Church for some solo piano by Jacob Anderskov. This was definitely the most cerebral music I've heard so far. In part, it reminded me of some of Keith Jarrett's solo work, “The Köln Concert,” for example. I really liked about a third of his music, especially the passages where his right hand worked melodies over the almost Steve-Reich-like ostinatos from his left. Unfortunately, the third day of the festival was catching up with me and I mostly drifted away with the other two-thirds of his music (although not a bad experience in itself). Check out Seth's musings on the under-appreciated genius of Anderskov.
For something completely different, we the caught the beginning of an energetic JazzKamikaze, before the sprinkles of rain chased us away. These guys let it all hang out, and maybe it was the contrast to Anderskov, or maybe it was just me, but I felt they let it hang out a bit too far. They definitely had the crowd going, but with the sky about to open up, we timed our exit well and headed over to the after hours jam session for a couple of sets with the Bob Sneider Trio. Lucky for us, we got to see Howard Alden sit in for a couple of tunes. He was magical at the Montage earlier in the night, but his interplay with Sneider was at times breathtaking.
Day 4 was a early night for me as I had a work project that I needed to finish up for the next morning. Still, I was glad I made the effort to get out and catch Cindy Blackman. She wasn't quite what I expected after hearing of her work with Lenny Kravitz--maybe if more people hadn't had similar expectations, she might have drawn a bigger crowd for her first set. But what a set. She's a definite monster on the drums, but she also has a subtlety and intelligence wen playing in support of her other talented band mates.
We decided that food would be our next priority and our discussion of the various options intermingled with more high-minded philosophical topics as we meandered back to Jazz St and eventually to a table at The Golden Port. Mmmmm, edamame...
I wrapped up my early night with just a couple of tunes by the Todd Londagin Band. Mr. Londagin aims to please: he'll sing, play trombone, tap dance, swallow swords, and do your taxes. I frankly would have liked to hear more trombone myself, but I didn't stay long enough to form a fair opinion before running home to tuck the kids into bed.
Day 5...Well, Day 5 was a day off from the festival. I'll be back for Day 6.
]]>Perhaps it's a bad sign that on day 2 my music listening habits were being driven by the desire to find a place to sit down, but after the High Fidelity show, I found a quiet spot in the garden outside Max and enjoyed the weather, a beer, and a delicious chicken-cabbage wrap served up by the Aja Noodle Company booth. The sounds of The Buddhahood drifted down the street, sounding like a Rochester version of Ozomatli, which translates into: I'd like to hear more from them.
I wandered in and out of the big tent, catching only a couple of tunes by Saturday Night Fish Fry, an entertaining jump blues band. However, having bigger fish to fry myself, I soon joined Jane in line to see the Bad Plus. This one of my most highly anticipated shows, and I was not disappointed. Dave King was as crazy as ever at the drum kit (didn't see any cookware employed this time around, though), Reid Anderson was as solid and inventive as ever on bass, and Ethan Iverson played his piano with the same inscrutable virtuosity as ever.
The set started out with a series of BP originals, including “Let Our Garden Grow,” “The Empire Strikes Backward,” and “1980 World Champion.” I was a little distracted by the WXXI cameramen who were scrambling to get into position, so I didn't take as much notice as I should have of the mic stand that was being set up center stage mid-way through the set. So but then Ethan Iverson explained that a newly-cut, but not-to-be-released-for-another-year album by the band represents their first recorded collaboration. With that, vocalist Wendy Lewis joined the band on stage to complete the set. I was a bit perplexed and skeptical, but Lewis' warped and wicked rendition of Nirvana's “Lithium” showed that she fit in just fine. A Google search for “Wendy Lewis Bad Plus” reveals Jeff Spevak's take, (a required link since he includes a Bad Plus haiku).
Afterward, and i contradiction to the signals my stomach was trying to relay (I should have waited for that delicious chicken wrap until later in the week after my wonky tummy settled down), I headed to State St. for the after hours Jam Session with the Bob Sneider Trio, but unfortunately only made it through a half a set or so. But now it's time to head out for tonight's fun!
]]>Tonight was the first night of the seventh annual Rochester International Jazz Festival and, man, it was a great start.
After work, I met up with Greg, Seth, and Jane as per usual. Not quite so usual was the addition of Christine to our roving gang, and nearly unprecedented was skipping out on the first Kilbourn Hall performance. Instead, we headed to the Harro East ballroom to hear Ben Riley's Monk Legacy Septet. There, we were treated to the smooth and polished sound of this ensemble of jazz veterans. It was a strong beginning.
The highlight of the night came at the next venue, the Reformation Lutheran Church, which is again hosting the Nordic Jazz Now series. Last year, the Five Corners Quintet drew rave reviews and this year, one of that quintet's member, saxophonist Timo Lassy returned with his own quintet, an African and Latin flavored group, and simply blew us away with tunes like “African Rumble” and “Sweet Spot.” The whole band was amazing, but in addition to Lassy, pianist Georgios Kontrafouris definitely stood out.
The Big Tent was the next stop to hear mad jazz alchemists, DJ Le Spam & the Spam All-stars. They were an interesting change of pace, with their hip-hop- and house-influenced jazz. Those who felt the urge mostly migrated to one corner of the tent to form what must be the closest thing to a mosh pit as you are likely to see at a jazz festival.
Dodging the raindrops, we headed to Montage to hear Rachel Z. I was skeptical at first when, in her introduction, she said the group would be exploring some “deep jazz” interpretations of popular rock songs. It sounded like a ripoff of the Bad Plus to me, but the group soon won me over. While the Bad Plus have a tendency to noodle around, the three players intertwining with each other, Rachel Z's cascading piano lines were the focus with the bass and drums acting more as a catalyst, driving her on. And they were relentless, too. The crowd showed their appreciation and Rachel Z threatened to take us all to Brazil with her for her next gig.
I wimped out on the after hours fun, hoping to save my energy for Day 2. One day down, eight to go!
]]>“So I'm a chicken, right? So why did I cross the road, huh? Answer: to get run over.”
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We've been working with the locally-based Association for the Blind and Visually Impaired to find resource for Christopher. One small piece of which included the purchase of a pair of sport glasses to replace the less sturdy pair he had been wearing up to this point (thank you Empire Vision replacement policy!). We picked these up a couple of months ago, but Christopher wanted nothing to do with them: “I want my little glasses!”
We've been blessed with a couple of beautifully sunny weekends recently and I took the opportunity to talk Christopher into giving his “dark glasses” a try. Soon, the transition lenses kicked in and Christopher was sold. He's been wearing his cool, blue glasses ever since. We think he looks like a superhero.
]]>Kari is sharing the cream and sugar and napkin and stirrer table with a college-aged kid. He is tall, with long blonde hair (“scraggly” is the word Kari used) and is rather scruffily dressed. Christopher is catching up with a table of regulars showing off his car and newly acquired cookies. He turns and sees his mother, cocks his head to get a better focus on the scene, then turns back to the table and announces in his loud and enthusiastic voice: “That girl looks just like my daddy!”
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It was a Saturday night, just after dinner. Kari was settling in for a relaxing evening with her family. Maybe there would be some fun family bonding around a board game, or a good movie to watch while snuggled together on the couch, or maybe story time with witty and scintillating conversation.
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I think I've owned this book ever since it was featured in the Book-of-the-Month Club some time in the mid-80's. This would have been one of the books I received after having neglected to return the card with the “Do Not Deliver the Monthly Selection” box checked. I've read it in spurts, but have otherwise paid it little heed as I've schlepped it between various dwellings in four states over the past twenty years.
Now, I've dusted it off and have begun reading it to Ben at bedtime. It's been lots of fun even though about half of the jokes and references are just an inch or two over Ben's head. It's one of those story-time experiences that are as much fun or the parent as the child. (I flash back to a memory as a six-year-old, listening to my Mom crack herself up while reading the original A.A. Milne Winne-the-Pooh books.) Ben's favorites so far are ldquo;Polar Bear in the Frigidaire” and “Backwards Bill,” but we're only about halfway through so far.
]]>And he did: the first half-hour of the Newcastle-Machester United match that I had saved to the DVR over the weekend.
(This post could also have been titled “A Moment of Maternal Dismay.”)
]]>An ergonomics expert hired by Kari's employer visited her office last week for an inspection. The expert noted that Kari and her co-worker, despite having a 10-inch height differential, had exactly the same computer set-up: the decidedly un-ergonomic placement of monitor and keyboard both at desktop level and rickety old office chairs with limited adjustability and/or zero lumbar support. Kari was not in the office that day, so the ergonomics guy didn't make any adjustments to her workspace, but her tall friend got a new keyboard drawer installed and had a replacement chair ordered.
When Kari returned to work the next day, she noted that her co-worker's desk had been raised off the ground by at least six or eight inches, each desk leg perched on a stack of textbooks. Turns out that the post-install working posture of her friend had been negatively impacted. He had had to pull his chair back and spread his legs to accommodate the new keyboard position. Plus, the monitor, which also housed the keyboard's communication port, had to be pushed toward the back of the desk so that the keyboard's cable could maintain contact. In order to read anything, he had to lean forward in his chair in a manner resembling that of a preying mantis. The solution, of course, was to return keyboard and monitor to their original positions on top of the desk and to raise the desk itself to allow for adequate knee-clearance of the keyboard drawer.
Despite the promise of a new chair, Kari has decided to pass on the ergonomic technical support.
]]>Ben: Mommy? Could you put in the train song, please?
Christopher: Train Song!!
Kari: Just a minute Ben, I need to get onto the highway before I dig out the CD and I need to keep my eyes on the road.
Ben: Wellllll... You could just keep one eye on the road and use the other eye to find the cd.
Kari: Benjamin, I can't do that.
Ben: You're right. Only boys can do that.
(Kari looks in rear view mirror and watches Ben wiggle his eyes from left to right, back and forth several times testing it out for himself. He sees Kari watching him and blushes.)
Ben: (under his breath) Oh, I guess boys can't do that either.