to listen to a captivating style of music; jazz. They are as diverse as the various forms of jazz itself. They are young and single, old and weathered. They push strollers and are trailed by grade schoolers. They push walkers. Some are hipsters and some are bean counters. They hail from the suburbs and the city and from more distant places. Their numbers would overpopulate the state capital. And their single commonality are the multitudinous sounds and impressions jazz and only jazz produces.
Mark Kelly, the city’s cultural commissioner, call Chicago a “cultural powerhouse of the world” in part due to the festival’s existence. Once geared to promoting national acts only in order to maximize draw, the festival now bends over backwards to embraces local performers with the 2017 event boasting a total of 58 bands; 42 of them from our own turf.
I can’t think of another music form that so devotedly honors those who’ve elevated the music to unprecedented heights and moved on into the ether. Jazz stations nightly play tracks from deceased artists reminding their listeners of what defines greatness. This year’s celebration would be honoring Thelonius Monk, Dizzy Gillespie and Ella Fitzgerald; powerhouses all.
It not only saluted the once great, it shown a blazing spotlight on the evergreen resilience of these people called jazz entertainers. Two remarkable shows featured 88-year-old vocalist Sheila Jordan and 90-year-old guitarist George Freeman; proving that when it comes to jazz, age is a performance enhancer. Jordan’s show in particular easily qualifies as an invigorating highlight in the four-day celebration.
Thursday night’s prime time program showcased a Dizzy Gillespie tribute headlined and conducted by Jon Faddis, outstanding on trumpeter and former mentee of Gillespie. The Chicago Jazz Fest Orchestra under Faddis’ leadership, stampeded out like a horde of harmonic stallions at the set’s opening with their version of Stay On It. Treating the whole affair like a party in his living room, Faddis proved an improbable band leader as he relentlessly quipped, teased and joked. Stunningly good at all three, it felt as if he were toying with the audience as the band slid through essentials like Night in Tunisia, Let’s Jump with Symphony Sid and Tanga. Matching genuine compassion to his wickedly pointed wit, Faddis included in the repertoire a beautiful rendition of the tender jazz ballad, I Remember Clifford and dedicated it to the city of Houston. Antonio Hart’s solo in Things to Come epitomized the thrill of live performance. Springboarding from flawless execution to inspired interpretation, it was clear we were listening to musical expression at its most pure; unfettered and free.
Dr. Lonnie Smith reignited that flame of intense exceptionalism Friday night with his 7 o’clock show. A virtuoso on the Hammond B 3, he deserves even wider recognition than the expansive acclaim he already enjoys. Elegant in his saffron gold turban, white beard, and finely tailored suit, his style is one of free expression with a strong eastern subtext that’s lathered in mystery and unabashed funk. Such a combination sounds impossible to reconcile but in fact is a spectacular musical brew. Quickly feeding from the audience’s enthusiasm shortly after the set began with a charging Backstabber, Smith let himself go and sank into the music. Everything took on a more vibrant hue and the music rose to spellbinding. His back up was exceptional too. With long time accompanist Johnathan Kreisburg on guitar and a very exciting young drummer, Johnathon Blake, the three spent the next hour smashing through ceilings of brilliance to the delight of all. Blake’s drum solo introducing a gutsy Fifty induced rapture.
Dr. Smith’s imaginative and delightful performance set off an explosion of supremely satisfied smiles in the sea of red chairs facing the stage. On his heels, Jason Moran would be presenting his tribute to Thelonius M. If Smith was all about high grade funk fusion, Moran and his entourage locked down the classy and the cool as they reprised Monk’s 1959 Town Hall show, In My Mind. Takeaways included a reminder of Mr. Moran’s sumptuous jazz piano skills and of Monk’s genius.
Hoping to engage the audience with different approaches to frame the music, a video created by David Dempewolf acted as a visual counterpoint to the works presented. It succeeded beautifully using footage of Monk in rehearsal and in performance. Incorporating spare and iconic shots of New York in the 50’s and 60’s also helped cement context. Adding computer graphics to bounce off the music’s subtle and resonant messages brought an unabashedly artistic to element Monk’s the music.
The rains came Saturday night and purged the less hardy from the park. Stalwarts doubled down and scooted for shelter hoping the skies would clear for the main act, the Ellabration! Except for the duet between Sheila Jordan and Paul Mariano, the tribute was a bust. When considering someone of Fitzgerald’s stature in the jazz world and beyond, the expectation is to exude excellence in recognition of excellence. That did not happen for the first 40 minutes of the performance.
Sheila Jordan, alone and sensational, made up for everything the next night. There’s much to be said for cool old people; especially the ones who can work in their craft well into their late 70’s and 80’s. Backed by the esteemed Steve Kuhn trio, Jordan was nothing but charm, class and chops Sunday evening. What the woman can do with phrasing and interpretation is sinfully luscious. Weaving stories about her journey into the world of jazz and recalling memorable moments in her career, she also spun tales in songs; most of them written by trio lead, Mr. Kuhn. Pluming lyrics like a prospector would gold, she left us walking on air by the end of her show.
