DownBeat 1996 (nem teljes évfolyam) [antikvár]

the beat JANUARY 1996 Gettin' Some 'House' by John Ephland One of the more unusual jazz concerts I attended recently was a Joshua Redman/Roy Hargrove double bill al Orchestra Hall in Chicago. An old-school, tj-aditional haunt for classical music, I kind of expected your typical reserved, well-mannered audience. To my delight, there was more than a little hootin' and hollerin' going on for both shows (see p. 52). It got me to wondering, what's it like for jazz musicians trying to work the house? "As a jazz musician," states drummer Carl Allen, "there are a couple of positions to take: you have a service to give, where everybody's serious; or, you have a party, where everybody is enjoying themselves." Certainly, there is a place for quieter rooms and musicians. But Allen, whose latest album is the gospel-flavored Testimonial (Atlantic), is clearly stressing the second position when he says, "I need to see some toes tappin' and some heads boppin'. You want to feel that applause, that sense of appreciation. As Betty Carter said, this music is about entertainment. Without the audience, we wouldn't have a job. This music is about a blue-collar mindset, for those who are in the trenches, not record-company execs who may not know a thing about the music. It's about inclusion, not exclusion. Many artists underestimate the intellect of the audience, put themselves above the audience. In jazz, you make your living playing for the people." Saxophonist Bobby Watson offers the perspective that comes from playing in front of a different audience: "I had a chance to sit in with [rock guitarist 1 Carios San tana at the Beacon last year, we played for three and a half hours. For the first half, I couldn't look out to the audience, I was so nervous. But the audience was cheering me on. After the show, they wanted to shake my hand and tell me how much they enjoyed my music. A lot of limes, when I go to the jazz clubs, it's like they're looking at each other trying to figure out how to act, bein' hip, cool or something." And yet, Watson, whose recent Urban Renewal is his first album for Kokopelli, also focuses on the bandstand, adding: "It's all related to the church, where it starts from the pulpit; when musicians clap for each other, the spirit in a room changes. The players can make Uie difference. Can I gel an amen?!" Allen agrees. "I think there's a direcl correlation Ix.'tween what hap()ens on the band- Bobby Watson: the players can make it happen stand and the audience's behavior." he says emphatically. "The jazz market has become very confusing, where you'll get 12 different definitions of what jazz is if you ask 12 different people. Consequently, for a lot of people, jazz has become the 'in' thing to be a part of, it's cool to hang out at a jazz club. When that happens, you get a lot of people just posing." Enter saxophonist David Murray. Like Watson, Murray has felt the joy of playing before a responsive rock crowd, having gigged with the Grateful Dead. "The jazz audience, on the other hand, is more informed, sometimes to the point of being ironic. I mean," says Murray, "something can be going down thafs extraordinary, and there's other musicians at the bar, not really listening; they're just there. Then there are those who don't know why they're there. On the positive side, New York audiences tend to be great. But sometimes I get the clinical vibe, that makes me want to get a jump-vibe going." Does it matter if you're playing avant-garde stuff or gutbucket blues? "It doesn't make any difference." So who's calling the shots? "I can switch people's demeanor." Murray says. 'TU play a slow blues, come back with a fast tune. There's always a dork out there, but jazz audiences can be turned around. I know how to work them. We're talking about New York, usually. But even at Yoshi's [in Oaklandl, last night [Halloween] we had a costume contest with the Worid Saxophone Quartet with CD giveaways, stuff like that." Does that make Murray a member of the show-biz family? "I'm not really an entertainer, but 1 like to be nice. 1 don't want people to leave with their head iiurting. But if things get too quiet, I say, 'Hey, somebody hurry up and holler!' 1 can gel 'house' al that moment—that is, getting people to respond, wake up. Tlien we encourage each other on tiie bandstand to get house, 'nial's whal people see. Tliere's one thing I don't want them to think about David Mun-ay—thai he was boring."