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Kottke notes the New Yorker report on the early exit from the World Cup by the US and ponders what the US soccer team might be like if current NBA players like Allen Iverson had grown up playing soccer instead of basketball.
The US might actually live up to their 5th-place FIFA ranking.
So the US fails to advance to the second round of the World Cup. Perhaps a repeat of their exciting 2002 run was too much to ask, but I still can't help feeling bitter disappointment at their early exit.
They had a tough group. They got screwed over by the referees. Whatever.
Basically, only half the team showed up. The two players who showed so much promise in 2002 failed rise to the occassion. Landon Donovan and Damarcus Beasley were sluggish and disoriented. Bruce Arena deserves a huge chunk of the blame, though. His choice to go with Brian McBride as the lone striker was bizarre. McBride put forth a yeoman effort, but he's no speedster and the his hard work to win balls in the air was wasted due to the lack of support. I just heard the statistic of the tournament for the US team: 4 shots on goal in all of their 1st round games combined.
Oh, and can I tell you how awful the ESPN/ABC announcers are? Marcelo Balboa drives me nuts and Dave O'Brian means well, but he's just not knowledgable about the game. Adrian Healy and Tommy Smyth are the announcers to listen to. Them or the guys on Telemundo.
This year, professional and familial responsibilities conspired to limit my RIJF attendance, but I still can't complain. I saw a half-dozen excellent shows and only one which could be considered disappointing (and that I've decided to blame on the weather).
Here, in no particular order, are my vague and random thoughts:
Thanks John Nugent and Marc Iacona for a wonderful festival.
I had no real destination for the last night of the festival other than an inkling that I might want to catch Kenny Garrett. That didn't pan out as I ended up catching dinner and hanging out on the corner of East and Chesnut during the Dicky Betts show with a gang of friends: Seth, Chris, Stacy, Adam, Jane, plus new friends Greg and Deb. East Ave was jam-packed for the free concert and we were content to hang out close enough to the stage to hear the music, but far enough away to hold a conversation (plus, close enough to the beer truck for a quick refill or three).
By 10:30 we had had enough of the Allman Bros jam and we decided to head over to the Crowne Plaza for some of the jazz festival's definitive jam venue, hosted by Bob Sneider. As usual, the band and guests were awesome. The climax of the night occurring when the Sliding Hammers took the stage with Kenny Garrett's rhythm section and saxophonist Magnus Lindgren. By this time, of the original group, only Jane had stayed out to enjoy this awesome set, but we had been joined by Greg who filled me in on the Kenny Garrett show he saw earlier in the evening (can't wait for his post on that one) and we got a chance to compare notes from previous nights. We stuck it out 'til the grand finale, provided by WXXI classical radio DJ Mordecai Lipschutz, who, in what's becoming a jazz fest tradition, brought the house down with his own personal rendition of "We'll Be Together Again."
And we certainly will. Same time next year. Thanks to all the artists and thanks to John Nugent for putting on another wonderful festival.
Work conspired to keep me away from the jazz fest for the first couple of hours tonight, so I didn't get to see everything that I wanted to, but I did get a decent sampling, so I can faithfully report on a handful of shows tonight.
East Avenue was blocked off to make room for a second free stage upon which Chris Berry & Panjea were performing some "world beat" influenced pop. Berry is apparently a California kid who moved to Africa at the age of 18 to gain his musical education from African masters. His band's sound most reminds me of Paul Simon during his "Graceland" and "Rhythm of the Saints." He has the crowd on East Ave. hopping, but, after hanging out with friends Stephanie and Will for a little while, I decided to head over to the big tent for something more "jazzy."
While Panjea gathers as many worldwide influences together as possible, the Red Stick Ramblers are deeply rooted in a local tradition, performing a style they call "Cajun gypsy jazz." They were highly entertaining belting out old Cajun tunes, some Texas two-step, and some original music that I rather enjoyed.
I only stayed for about half of the set as I headed back to East Ave to catch the first couple of songs by Soulive, mentioned here recently by cousin Art. They seem to be a part of the growing jazz-influenced jam band scene. From where I stood, way back in the (by this time) jam-packed intersection of East and Chesnut, they sounded great. I only got a taste, just enough to justify checking them out more thoroughly later, because I was anxious to get in line for the 10PM Kilbourn show.
[A quick suggestion for festival organizers: move the Gibbs street stage about 10 yards north. Just move it enough so that the band playing on East Ave isn't blaring away at the musicians in the back row of the Gibbs St. stage. As I made my way toward Kilbourn Hall, Soulive began cranking out a heavy bass groove just as to the poor Eastman students on the Gibbs St. stage were about to start their set.]
Every year there is an act or a musician at the festival that totally stands apart with their musicianship and professionalism. These bands set a standard so high that you begin questioning your highly favorable opinions of previous acts. Last year, it was Willem Breuker, the year before was Wessell Anderson, this year is was e.s.t.
And I thought the Dutch guys were tight. The music and interplay of e.s.t. was so solid and locked in, it's like they were all playing with one brain. After the show, some Eastman student was gushing about the rhythms and the break-beats. I'm not musically qualified to know what he was talking about, but I do know that as locked-in as this bands was, they were treading some seriously under-explored territory. The piano at times sounded Keith-Jarrett-at-Köln-ish, then suddenly a swirl of bass and drums would sweep up the piano into some of the deepest grooves of the festival. John Nugent in announcing the band said that he is speechless after every e.s.t. performance he sees. I think I understand: these guys defy description
I wanted to head over to Crowne Plaza tonight, but I think I'm starting to catch a head cold, so I put that off for one more night in favor of some blogging and sleep. Only one more night!
Saturday night picks:
Brrzzzzt. Stayed in again tonight. I was falling asleep on the couch at 8:30. This is a good opportunity to recharge for a late Friday night.
Friday night picks:
Another late start for me tonight as I arrived on Gibbs St. at 9PM. This turned out to be just in time to catch the first tune by the MK Groove Orchestra before Seth and I headed over to a 10PM show. They had quite a powerhouse lineup of two trumpets, two saxophones, a trombone, guitar, bass, drums, annd keyboard. The "groove" part of their name is apt. The rhythm section laid it down solid, while the horns did their blared away and the guitarist went into a bit of a rock-jam-type bit. I wish I could have stayed for more.
Except, no I don't, because the 10PM band blew me away. That band was Papa Grows Funk. Papa must use MiracleGro or something, because despite being on the list of current worst band names, these guys had almost the entire audience on their feet, dancing. This was one of the funkiest acts that I have seen in a long time. The obvious comparision is to fellow New Orleans natives, Galactic. (In fact, the saxophonist is an ex-Galactic member.) I don't know, though. I saw Galactic a few years back and these guys seem like a more hard-driving party band (if that's possible).
Thursday night picks:
After a full day of traveling for work, I took the night off. Check out Greg's coverage (Glasper in particular sounds interesting).
Silly me forgot that Kari teaches on Monday nights, so my plan to see multiple shows was doomed at the outset. Actually, I didn't really forget, I just had this split-personality thing going on today as I made simultaneous plans in my head for how I was going to spend the night.
The first plan invlolved watching the US-Czech Republic World Cup match that I had taped and crying into my beer while Ben plaed with his cars at my feet. The other involved running downtown to catch some jazz. At about 4:30 I came to my senses. Lucky for me, Kari came home a little early and I headed out to try to catch Sonya Kitchell. Unfortunately, the line proved too daunting for me and I headed over to the free stage just in time to hear what sounded like the end of a pretty remarkable set by the Respect Sextet.
After downing a heartburn po'boy, Seth and I, bolstered by Greg's recommendation, headed over to Max to see the Dutch group, Braamdejoodevatcher. These cats were out of control. Actually, scratch that. They were totally in control: even though they each seemed to be heading in different directions, the music held together, occassionally breaking into a full-on groove before spinning back into a complex web of interconnected harmonies and textures.
These guys also got the absolute most out of their instruments. Michael Vatcher on drums would occasionally lick his finger and rub it around his drum head in order to get a wheezing sound. He whacked every surface of his drum kit at one point or another to brilliant effect. Bassist Wilbert de Joode, would alternate between slapping, plucking, bowing, and strumming the strings. At points Michiel Braam on piano seemed to be playing with his knuckles. It all added up to a great show.
This marks the third year in a row that I've been blown away by a European act. Two years ago was Jonas Kullhammar, Last year it was the Willem Breuker Kollektief. Here's hoping that John Nugent can continue to bring these terrific groups across the pond.
If I had more than a rudimentary music education, I might be qualified to say that the Claudia Quintet's music is more "cerebral" than anything else I have heard to date. However, I don't have this background, so the best that I can do is say that the music that sounded "cerebral," which isn't meant to be a knock against them, by the way. The quintet consisted of drums, bass, an alternating saxophone and clarinet, a vibraphone and an accordion.
That's right, an accordion. It sounded great, too. The juxtaposition of the soundscapes explored by the accordion and vibraphone contrasted nicely with the solid grooves laid down by the drummer and bassist, all tied together by the saxophone.
Afterwards, we headed to Gibbs Street to hear the Jack Allen Big Band where Kari, Ben and Jane joined us. Ben enjoyed the music and the atmosphere, insisting that we move closer to the stage so that he could get a better look at the musicians.
After hearing the dire warnings about the Montage grill's seating policy, Seth and I made sure to get to the there early enough to chat with our new-found fellow blogging friend prior to the Roberto Occhipinti Quintet. And man, are we glad we did.
Not only did we have a great conversation, but the band itself was awesome. They were gimmick-free, just five cats who could play. Dafnis Prieto on drums was particularly impressive, playing like a man possessed while still maintaining an unwavering and rock solid beat.
A quick note about one of Friday night's acts: After reading Jeff Spevak's review of last night's shows and listening to today's D&C podcast, I feel a little bad about labeling Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey as a "disappointment." I may have to pay penance by picking up a CD at the RIJF store.
Tomorrow night's picks:
Zilch. Zippo.
I hope Greg's webhost gets their act together soon, because I've got nothing to contribute tonight. The family function we attended earlier in the evening turned out to be so much fun, that we didn't get home until almost 10PM. (Happpy 40th anniversary Erma and Leon!)
That still left me plenty of time to get out to the late night jam session, but I decided to take the night off to recharge my batteries for the upcoming week.
Tomorrow night's picks:
I was able to leave work in time to get in line for the Charlie Hunter concert about 15 min. prior to the start. Thanks to cup'o'books and jazz@rochester, a great seat was being saved for me. As for the concert itself, all I can say is, well, wow.
I had heard about Hunter's unusual guitar and playing style. I own a couple of his cd's and although I enjoy his music, I wondered if the whole eight-string guitar1 thing was just a gimmick.
Let me tell you, this guy is the real deal. His trio sounds more like a quartet (or even a quintet) thanks to his ability to play bass and lead guitar simultaneously (and seemingly effortlessly). The climax occurred about 3/4 of the way into the set, when Hunter's wah-wah'ed guitar slid into the groove of Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground." There was some serious funk dripping off his guitar by the end of that particular jam.
Next came the first disappointment of the festival, as we stood in the bluster and cold of Rochester in June to listen to the Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey. I had been looking forward to hearing this band, but--maybe it was the weather, maybe they just suffered in comparison to Charlie Hunter--there wasn't enough there for me to really get into. I may give them a second chance at Milestones tomorrow night. It will depend on what other acts strike my fancy as I am somewhat undecided at this point.
Oh, and then there was the Bob Sneider Jam Session. The noisy crowd notwithstanding, this nightly show is one of the best parts of the festival. Tonight's highlights included two local youngsters, a 16 year-old on guitar and a 14-year-old on piano playing one of my favorite jazz standards, Kenny Dorhham's "Blue Bossa." Unfortunately, I couldn't catch their names above the din of the crowd.2 The other artist who got the crowd whooping was Cynthia Sayer, pianist for the Woody Allen New Orleans jazz Band, who took a turn on the banjo to the crowd's delight.
Tomorrow night's picks (still very much up in the air):
2 -I'll update this post if I ever learn their names.
So I'm all bummed after checking TV listings and noting that the World Cup will not be broadcast in anything close to prime time here in the States. That means that unless I can remember how to set up the VCR,1 I'll be missing some of the first round games due to the 2006 Rochester International Jazz Festival.
But that's not so bad. I can certainly sacrifice a few world class soccer games on tv in the interest of seeing world class jazz in person.
I hope to share the jazz fest experience with others this year. Per prior arrangement, I'll be looking forward to catching some shows with fellow bloggers; brother Ted may be able to swing into town for a show or two; I'll even try to get Kari and Ben out for some free shows over the weekend; plus also, I may get Jane to come out to a free show or two (even though she blames me for the fact that the Sabres aren't playing for the Stanley Cup).
On tap for tomorrow night: