[JPL] San Sebastian Jazz Fest JazzTimes review (part 1)

Wed Dec 3 21:53:14 EST 2008

*Heineken Jazzaldia-San Sebastian (Pt. 1)*
Venue/
Location: 	Various Venues
San Sebastian , Spain
Date(s): 	July 22, 2008 - July 27, 2008
Written By: 	Evan Haga
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  San Sebastian, a coastal resort city in Spanish Basque Country, isn't 
the type of place you should need any particular reason to visit. 
Without Heineken Jazzaldia, the annual jazz bonanza held there each 
summer, there's still plenty to do---time spent on any of the three main 
beaches, at one of the many gastronomically renowned eateries, or in one 
of innumerable old-city bars serving tapas-like /pintxos/ should ensure 
a state of nirvana. If I might sink to travel-writing levels of fawning 
for a minute, it's the sort of place that inspires melancholy upon 
arrival, if only because you realize you'll have to leave soon enough.

With the festival, the rapture is sealed for good; for the 43rd edition, 
at least, much of the best jazz in the world was delivered to the town, 
with nearly impeccable diversity in the programming: There was fusion 
(Return to Forever's high-profile reunion, Jean-Luc Ponty, the Soft 
Machine Legacy Band), august vocal jazz (Dianne Reeves, Diana Krall, 
Kate McGarry), definitive avant-gardists (Anthony Braxton, Steve 
Coleman, Marc Ribot), some of the best piano-trio models still working 
in jazz (Keith Jarrett [pictured], Kenny Barron, Ahmad Jamal), and even 
R&B (Maceo Parker) and hard blues (Johnny Winter).

The production and organization were also something to marvel at: The 
performances began in the early evening and were based in or around the 
Centre Kursaal, a postmodern performing arts center comprising two 
angled buildings that, especially when illuminated at nightfall, appear 
as giant ice cubes, their splendid, translucent glow looking out over 
the Bay of Biscay. Slightly closer to (or actually on) the beach were 
three venues hosting free events: an intimate, small-club-sized tent; a 
larger stage the size of a rock club; and, larger still, a festival 
stage sitting right on the beach where thousands of people would gather 
to catch more pop-oriented acts until the morning's wee hours. A stone's 
throw away from that scene was the Teatro Victoria Eugenia, a gorgeously 
restored Italian-style theater built in the early years of last century, 
covered in sandstone facades and boasting, on its inside, startlingly 
beautiful Chinese artwork and Opera-house balconies. If the Kursaal and 
Teatro looked superb, they were sonic marvels.

The festival began in the Kursaal's large auditorium with Keith 
Jarrett's standards trio featuring Jack DeJohnette and Gary Peacock, a 
now-historic group that tends to perform only in such mighty 
surroundings. With flash photography strictly forbidden, the Kursaal's 
meditative lighting scheme that cast everything in the venue in absolute 
darkness except for the performers, and a rapt audience, Jarrett seemed 
to find the solace he searches for at his gigs. (I'd purchased a cheap 
digital watch for the trip that I hadn't yet learned how to operate 
properly, and I prayed its alarm wouldn't sound.) The appeal of this 
trio, as it always has been, is the romantic transformation of common 
source material into elastic psalms. The music feels familiar but then 
not, with DeJohnette's swing evolving with the tunes into an amorphous 
rhythmic persistence; Jarrett likewise begins with sheer melody and 
entrances himself in post-Bill Evans harmony and texture, moaning and 
standing with the crests of his fluttering lines.

Later that evening at the Teatro Victoria, slide-guitar great Johnny 
Winter performed in an image that might be the polar opposite of 
Jarrett's trio, cranking out loud, rough, sometimes corny (the newer 
tune "Lone Wolf") electric blues that verged on rock. (This was one of 
Winter's "blues-only" sets, which well suited the aging guitarist, who, 
like B.B. King, now performs sitting down.) After a very Stevie Ray 
Vaughan-inspired warm-up jam featuring Winter's rhythm section and fiery 
guitarist Paul Nelson, Winter tore through blues standards with raucous 
spirit---he was especially dexterous on "Hideaway," "Red House" and, 
later, "Highway 61," finally donning his Gibson Firebird guitar at the 
encore and cranking out his telltale slide licks. If there was anything 
offered here in the way of revisionism, it'd be Winter's rep as a rhythm 
player---he shuffled, boogie'd and balladeer'd with the best, playing a 
lexicon of turnarounds and keeping impressive time even in his frail 
physical state.

The following day, David Murray performed at the smaller of the 
Kursaal's spaces, bringing with him his Black Saint Quartet, band of 
great athleticism but not heavy-handedness: Lafayette Gilchrist on 
piano, Hamid Drake on drums and the bassist Jaribu Shahid. In attitude 
and approach the group was purely Impulse!---the foursome boasts that 
balance of out-ness and swing, a line Murray has walked on both sides of 
throughout his career. His tone reflected this duality, alternately 
evoking Ben Webster's quiver or Pharoah Sanders in skronk mode. A 
highlight was the viciously Latin-ized, "Tunisia"-invoking "Kiama for 
Obama," a dedication to the Presidential hopeful whom Murray 
full-heartedly endorsed at the gig and his press conference. (He even 
wore an Obama T-shirt to that event, and when asked about it, replied, 
"Oh, this is just the newest style of T-shirt"; Bobby McFerrin, who 
alternately inspired and cracked up a large beach crowd with San 
Sebastian's Orfeón Donostiarra choir, respectfully declined political 
questions at his press event.) Another apex was Gilchrist's performance, 
where he proved that, away from his own soul-obsessed music, he could 
graft his determined, highly rhythmic style to complex postbop.

If Murray expressed some duality, Maceo Parker presented split 
personalities. In two sets that mirrored his terrific recent 
double-album, /Roots & Grooves/, Parker and the WDR Big Band saluted Ray 
Charles as well as Parker's name-making former employer, James Brown. 
The first set brought the pot to a boil---the hoots and hollers got 
louder especially whenever Parker would sing Ray's hits, shades on, in 
his most convincing Charles impersonation---and the funk jams made it 
run over. A lengthy extrapolation on "Pass the Peas" was sheer joy.

-- 
Dr. Jazz
Dr. Jazz Operations
24270 Eastwood
Oak Park, MI  48237
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http://www.drjazz.com
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