Jazz at Lincoln Center 2011-01-21
Chick Corea w/Jazz @ Lincoln Center Orchestra, New York, NY
Set 1
Tones for Jones Bones
Windows for Hubert
Children's Song #19
Armando's Rhumba
Children's Song #10
Humpty Dumpty
Windows for Hubert
Children's Song #19
Armando's Rhumba
Children's Song #10
Humpty Dumpty
Set 2
Set 3
Comment
[b]Review from the NY Times:[/b]
2011-01-24
The Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra built one over the weekend. Not a completely inclusive one, but one that worked for everybody involved. In “The Music of Chick Corea,” which ran Thursday to Saturday at the Rose Theater, Mr. Corea played acoustic piano with the 15-piece band through songs of various eras, instrumentations and temperaments. On Friday they included “Tones for Joan’s Bones” from 1966, “Matrix” and “Windows” from 1968, “Crystal Silence” and “You’re Everything” from 1972, “Armando’s Rhumba” from 1976, “Humpty Dumpty” from 1978, two of the “Children’s Songs” from 1983 and others.
The arrangements came from eight members of the orchestra, including Wynton Marsalis, its musical director. And the band found continuity through its own evolved sound and trademarks: tambourines and hand claps in percussion, wah-wah mutes on the brass, arrangements telescoping across the band through its various sections. It was a total transformation, and a sophisticated one.
There were limits. There was no electric guitar or bass, no keytar, no chimes. The list of tunes curved away from the real pop and bombast in Mr. Corea’s back catalog, the later iterations of the group Return to Forever and the Elektric Band. (And Mr. Corea wore a dark jacket and tie, as opposed to his usual Hawaiian shirts.) But his musical identity is flexible — you get the sense that going sufficiently deep into any language interests him — and he seemed pleased amid the complexity of the arrangements.
The harpist Riza Printup added delicate timbres to “Windows” and the slow, meditative “Crystal Silence,” and the conguero Bobby Allende joined on a few tunes, combining with Ali Jackson’s strong, forthright drumming. Gayle Moran Corea, married to Mr. Corea, inhabited Flora Purim’s expressive role in “You’re Everything.” And in “Matrix” — one of Mr. Corea’s sturdiest gifts to successive generations of jazz musicians — Vincent Gardner’s arrangement emptied out into highly improvised trio and quartet sections involving Mr. Corea, Mr. Jackson, the bassist Carlos Henriquez and Ted Nash on alto saxophone.
These parts were intense and interactive, almost little stand-alone concerts themselves. Mr. Corea was masterly with the other musicians, absorbing the rhythm and feeding the soloists. It sounded like a band, and Mr. Corea had no need to dominate; his authority was clear without raising volume.
The greatest accomplishments might have been the two pieces from Mr. Corea’s “Children’s Songs” record, Nos. 10 and 19, both arranged by Mr. Marsalis. In their original form they were short and mysterious solo-piano pieces, each shorter than 90 seconds. But Mr. Marsalis found for them a new guiding rhythmic feeling, new colors, new identities: especially No. 19, which became a rustle of high woodwinds with minimal drumming, making way for a sweet and dramatic alto-saxophone solo by Sherman Irby. This was resourceful and imaginative work, on a curious piece of repertory.
2011-01-24
The Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra built one over the weekend. Not a completely inclusive one, but one that worked for everybody involved. In “The Music of Chick Corea,” which ran Thursday to Saturday at the Rose Theater, Mr. Corea played acoustic piano with the 15-piece band through songs of various eras, instrumentations and temperaments. On Friday they included “Tones for Joan’s Bones” from 1966, “Matrix” and “Windows” from 1968, “Crystal Silence” and “You’re Everything” from 1972, “Armando’s Rhumba” from 1976, “Humpty Dumpty” from 1978, two of the “Children’s Songs” from 1983 and others.
The arrangements came from eight members of the orchestra, including Wynton Marsalis, its musical director. And the band found continuity through its own evolved sound and trademarks: tambourines and hand claps in percussion, wah-wah mutes on the brass, arrangements telescoping across the band through its various sections. It was a total transformation, and a sophisticated one.
There were limits. There was no electric guitar or bass, no keytar, no chimes. The list of tunes curved away from the real pop and bombast in Mr. Corea’s back catalog, the later iterations of the group Return to Forever and the Elektric Band. (And Mr. Corea wore a dark jacket and tie, as opposed to his usual Hawaiian shirts.) But his musical identity is flexible — you get the sense that going sufficiently deep into any language interests him — and he seemed pleased amid the complexity of the arrangements.
The harpist Riza Printup added delicate timbres to “Windows” and the slow, meditative “Crystal Silence,” and the conguero Bobby Allende joined on a few tunes, combining with Ali Jackson’s strong, forthright drumming. Gayle Moran Corea, married to Mr. Corea, inhabited Flora Purim’s expressive role in “You’re Everything.” And in “Matrix” — one of Mr. Corea’s sturdiest gifts to successive generations of jazz musicians — Vincent Gardner’s arrangement emptied out into highly improvised trio and quartet sections involving Mr. Corea, Mr. Jackson, the bassist Carlos Henriquez and Ted Nash on alto saxophone.
These parts were intense and interactive, almost little stand-alone concerts themselves. Mr. Corea was masterly with the other musicians, absorbing the rhythm and feeding the soloists. It sounded like a band, and Mr. Corea had no need to dominate; his authority was clear without raising volume.
The greatest accomplishments might have been the two pieces from Mr. Corea’s “Children’s Songs” record, Nos. 10 and 19, both arranged by Mr. Marsalis. In their original form they were short and mysterious solo-piano pieces, each shorter than 90 seconds. But Mr. Marsalis found for them a new guiding rhythmic feeling, new colors, new identities: especially No. 19, which became a rustle of high woodwinds with minimal drumming, making way for a sweet and dramatic alto-saxophone solo by Sherman Irby. This was resourceful and imaginative work, on a curious piece of repertory.
Sources
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Created At
Fri Sep 13 2013 04:31:20 GMT+0000 (Coordinated Universal Time)
Updated At
Fri Sep 13 2013 04:31:20 GMT+0000 (Coordinated Universal Time)
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