This Week: Dave Douglas and Wayne Shorter give a nod to Miles (and Björk), and yet another Baker retrospective
Wayne Shorter
Footprints Live! (Verve)
What looks like a nostalgia trip—legendary saxophonist returns to the old book with next-generation sidemen in tow—is actually the most vital recording from Wayne Shorter in years. The tunes hail mostly from Shorter's composing heyday in the '60s, but the kinetic group interplay of Danilo Perez, John Patitucci, and Brian Blade has a transforming effect, making them sound as if they were written yesterday. It's not quite a paradox to add that these 2001 performances often recall the classic Miles Davis quintet of which Shorter was a part.
"Sanctuary" raises the curtain with an insistent, prowling pulse, and "Masqualero" cuts the mysterioso atmosphere with recombinant rhythms and a winding tenor solo. Without being deconstructionist about it, this band invents structures on the spot, adjusting form and harmony to their likings. In "Footprints," theme and pulse gradually fade away, replaced by a tropical lilt and a fragile coda. "Juju" begins and ends freely; its body is a funhouse fossil of the 1965 original. Only the delicate "Go," led by Shorter's breath-like tones, refrains from trapdoor surprises.
Shorter's solos relay some of his old agility and fire, and even when he lays out, his presence remains. This is due to his compositional voice, but credit the sidemen as well—each tests the music's malleability but stays within the bounds of mood. And the moods here are mysterious, yearning, festive, and ultimately resonant. I'd be surprised if a more enduring small-band jazz record is released this year.
—Chris Mitchell
Dave Douglas
The Infinite (Bluebird)
In stark contrast to his critically acclaimed and overtly political previous release Witness, Dave Douglas' latest finds the trumpeter concentrating on melody rather than message. And with a vengeance. Disdaining tunes with names like "Kidnapping Kissinger" and quotes from Egyptian Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz, in this latest release Douglas instead alludes to "Boplicity" and covers Rufus Wainwright and Björk.
Not that Douglas is any stranger to diversity, given his predilections for Webern, Stravinsky, and Weill, his quasi-tribute to pianist/composer Mary Lou Williams, and now this latest release, a quasi-tribute to Miles Davis. These influences serve primarily as points of departure, however, as in this case where Miles manifests mainly in occasional quoted lines and in the instrumentation.
While less diverse perhaps than previous recordings—no Stravinsky here—Infinite contains its own contrasts; complex originals abut the pop familiar, slow-paced ballads aside high-pitched burners.
A centerpiece is the contemplative cover of Icelandic pop icon Björk's "Unison," a nod to Miles' Harmon-muted sound and late penchant for the Top 40. And indeed, "Unison" is a lovely melody, wonderfully captured by Chris Potter's bass clarinet and Douglas' trumpet. Odd that a jazz cover would be shorter than the original. But then again, Björk's treacly lyric, Yoda-like syntax, and squeaky delivery are also noticeably absent in this reading.
At turns sensitive and explosive, Douglas here exhibits perhaps his best form recorded to date. Add an interesting selection of tunes and all-star cast, and The Infinite is a thoroughly satisfying disc.
—Jonathan B. Frey
Chet Baker
Deep in a Dream: The Ultimate Chet Baker (Pacific Jazz)
Trumpeter Chet Baker receives more attention today than he ever did during the last decades of his life. Album re-issues, de Valk's biography translated from Dutch in 2000, James Gavin's lurid 2002 biography Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker, and now a companion CD, The Ultimate Chet Baker.
Seeing this title in the bin, yet another Baker "re-discovery" among similar recordings heretofore shelved for good reason, one's first response is to cheer: indeed, please let this be the ultimate, the last Baker horsewhipping masquerading as hagiolatry. We hardly need reminding yet again that much of what he recorded was truly bad.
But Gavin's glib liner notes aside, this is actually an excellent collection. There are definitely creepy moments, most notably Baker singing "Spring is Here" unaccompanied, dredged up by Gavin to further his not inaccurate assessment of Baker's inscrutable and self-absorbed disposition. Otherwise this is an unabashed capturing of Baker's entire oeuvre: crisp bop lines delivered at maximum tempi, intricate interplay with baritone saxophonist Gerry Mulligan, saccharine recordings with strings, "junkie beat" phrasing, vocals that work, vocals that don't; it's all here.
What makes Baker fascinating (the yielding tone, the recurring ballads, the expressionless, effeminate tenor, the indulgent improvisations) is independent of the quality of his performance. The fluffed lines early in his career and then later in life his drug-induced fallen god status, were all part of the appeal, even to those quick to criticize his technical gifts. This 19-tune collection captures that appeal, ultimately.
—Jonathan B. Frey
August 15, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 33
© 2002 Metro Pulse
| 
