NEW ORLEANS JAZZ ASCONA 2001, "When the Saints go Marching . . ."

W. Royal Stokes

Ghosts hovered in the rafters of Stage Torre on Thursday night. During the early-evening concert, "The Sax Players," they were those of such 1940s Jazz at the Philharmonic stars as reed-playing giants Lester Young, Ben Webster, and Coleman Hawkins. Indeed, the six saxophonists on stage assumed, with unabashed zeal, the extroverted, competitive musical personalities that their models exhibited during JATP tours. It was, to use Yogi Berra's coinage, "déjà vu all over again," as concert producer and host Gustle Mayer in the opening up-tempo selection set the pattern for the uproarious two sets, virtually wrestling his tenor to the ground as he blew the tune "into bad health," Count Basie's praise for especially swinging action. In fact, so exuberant was a later solo of Mayer, on "Lester Leaps In," the neck of his horn flew off, successful repair taking place backstage during intermission.

A duet of Mayer and tenorist Gianni Basso on "Just Friends" was an effective pairing of styles, the latter's whispery timbre and lightness of tone contrasting with the former's broad vibrato and swashbuckling attack. Canadian Jim Galloway, on curved soprano saxophone, displayed his mastery of ballad interpretation as he injected Bechet-like passion into "Embraceable You." Baritonist Red Pellini and altoist Marc Richard turned the melody of "Topsy' inside out, Pellini giving rein to his horn's aggressive potential with some muscularly urgent swagger, Richard opting for a deceptively more placid attack that hardly disguised the intensity of feeling he projected. Basso's solo feature, "My Foolish Heart," provided a sublimely restful, albeit erotically steaming, interlude before the concert-closing all-hands-on-deck shoot-out on "Tenor Madness," on which tenorist Frank Roberscheuten took the lead in clarifying the implications of the tune's title with an extended, and Vesuvian, solo that would have moved the walls back, had there been any.

It must be added that the selected highlights alluded to above would not have been possible without the commanding, and quite exceptional, rhythm section of pianist Dirk Raufeisen, bassist Götz Ommert, and drummer Tobias Schirmer. Not only was their collective time-keeping and fueling of energy into the enterprise outstanding, their individual feature spots never failed to elicit ovations from the five-hundred or so who sat riveted to their seats for two hours. This audience member says, Bring JATP back next year!

The gathering of ghosts who replaced those of Prez et alii invaded Torre as the soundmen and musicians prepared the stage for the next act, Lino Patruno's "Jammin' at Condon's." Among the dozen specters who now flitted aloft were those of Wild Bill Davison, Bobby Hackett, Pee Wee Russell, Edmond Hall, Ernie Caceres, Bud Freeman, George Brunies, George Wettling, and the concert honoree, that wise-cracking, slurred-speech master of rhythm guitar and hustler of musical action for his fellow musicians, Eddie Condon.

The opening "Hindustan," with its eight-man front line, was reminiscent of one of those early-morning sessions when the crew from Eddie Condon's, enhanced by the several guest horn players who inevitably dropped by to join the well lubricated regulars, arrived at the recording studio after nearly all-night duty at the club. Ed Polcer and Tom Baker were on cornets, Dan Barrett and Michael Supnik were the trombonists, and Evan Christopher, Jim Galloway, Red Pellini, and Luca Velotti, on reeds. The rhythm team consisted of host Patruno on guitar, Rossano Sportiello, piano, bassist Guido Giacobini, and Giampaolo Biagi at the drums.

incidentally, the "Hindustan" personnel was, at first, reminiscent not only in quantity, but in quality, for, quite like one of those Condon fracases of a half-century and more ago, the dozen musicians took a few choruses to get their bearings -- any rehearsal for the Torre program likely having been backstage minutes before concert, in appropriate tribute to the legendary guitarist, who abhorred the use of "paper" -- but it wasn't very far into the tune before everything came together and, to a man, the eight horns were weaving in and out of each others' lines as if reading one another's musical thoughts.

For "I'm Confessin'," on which Baker eerily recaptured the ballad expression of Wild Bill Davison, and "You Took Advantage of Me," a vocal feature for Kilgore that splendidly evoked singer Lee Wiley, the front line was pared down to one or another group of four horns. Other selections were duets, for example, Galloway's and Christopher's on "Smile," their respective creative spirits clearly set afire by the coupling (as were Galloway's and Velotti's later when the latter changed from clarinet to straight soprano), and Kilgore's and Barrett's beautifully languid "A Woman's Intuition." Another departure from the norm was a trio of trombones (Baker switching instruments for this) on an inspired rendering of "Linger A While," the effect of which was deeply moving.

New York's Polcer, one of several heirs apparent to the mantle of Davison, took charge for "There'll Be Some Changes Made," authoritatively leading the by-now supercharged "Condon Mob" to the roaring ride-out choruses of the number. For this free-for-all set-closer, each musician had his say, collectively, individually, and in heated exchanges, such as those of Baker and Pellini when they traded a furious series of fours, twos, and ones.

Again, nothing would have come together had it not been for the solid foundation and relentless thrust provided by the foursome supplying the beat. And they too frequently brought off breaks and solos of startling immediacy.

Altogether a respectful and gripping homage to a vital style of jazz and its long-gone legendary players.