The Musical Box

To insinuate saxophonists Maceo Parker and Ken Vandermark are distantly related musical cousins would be a gross simplification of their music’s vast stylistic breadth.

Parker, as the title of his new Roots & Grooves album reminds us, is an R&B oriented player who sees few stepping stones between funk and jazz. No doubt serving as one of the principal horn men behind James Brown helped in linking the two schools.

Vandermark, who doubles as clarinetist on his new Beat Reader, seems to favor the call of European improvisers who took tradition into their own hands around the same time Brown’s music hit big in this country. But Vandermark shadows tradition from numerous sources. As Beat Reader makes clear in its liner notes, the music draws inspiration from visual artists (especially photographers) as well as musical innovators.

Roots & Grooves is a solid two-chapter R&B overview that teams Parker with Germany’s WDR Big Band. Its first disc is a soul salute to Ray Charles while the second expands the earthier combo funk the saxophonoist should slap a copyright on. No one else plays this kind of groove with his sense of ease and command.

In an age where Charles tributes, well intentioned as they may be, have become dime-a-dozen enterprises, the WDR band proves an inventive lot. But then, this is the same outfit that gave the late Joe Zawinul, along with a good chunk of his sublime Weather Report catalogue, a convincing big band makeover on last year’s Brown Street. On the Charles tunes, especially the swimming sass that propels Busted, the mood is as inviting, warm and assured as Parker’s vibrant alto sax leads.

The funk disc boils over. To Be or Not To Be boasts tight brassy drama that recalls early ‘70s Tower of Power records while 17 minutes of Pass the Peas, complete with EWI (electronic wind instrument) breaks, guitar blasts and drum solos, is delirious overkill.

What remains so stirring about the current Vandermark 5 lineup is its resourcefulness. Though this isn’t the quintet’s first album since cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm joined, it is definitely the first to fully unlock the temperament his playing triggers within the band. Holm provides a scorched chamber accent at times and a path to giddy rhythmic fracture at others. And those are just two of the cool sounds abounding on Beat Reader.

Similarly, the compositions are as playfully learned as the musicianship. Immediately arresting is Any Given Number, which employs an introductory minimalist theme on reeds that initiates a beautiful blues excursion. Later, Speedway (a tune dedicated to Max Roach, but cut well before the drummer’s death last summer) offers a bouncy rumble that swings with a thoroughly instinctual blend of melody and menace.

Those lucky enough to locate initial pressings of Beat Reader with a bonus disc of The New York Suite (those editions are already out-of-print) are afforded an even deeper glimpse of the Vandermark 5’s remarkable group dynamic. Melody sits side by side with freeform improvisational passages that shift from the gloriously quiet to the wondrously severe. In the end, though, Vandermark’s link with Parker becomes apparent: both are artists following their own divine soul muse.     

The key to enjoying the music of veteran jazz pianist Chick Corea and progressive banjo stylist Bela Fleck is accepting the sense of fun and discovery that surrounds their performances and compositions. Technically, they have enough chops to mow down a forest. But the manner in which they put their joint instrumental prowess into motion trigers a rich sense of cunning.

So it was no wonder that for every warp speed solo, every light or dramatic flourish in their duo performance last night at Louisville’s Brown Theatre, there was also a sense of whimsy. Take Joban Dna Nopia, a tune that is almost textbook Corea with animated, lyrical phrases and modest Spanish accents that last night set up a feisty bit of banjo hot rodding by Fleck and a brief twilight blues interlude for the composer.

Half of the tune’s fun came in an introduction where Corea tried to instruct Fleck on the proper pronunciation of the title. When it became evident that no common language was being referenced, Corea gave in. The title was nothing more than an anagram for “banjo and piano.”

Such antics spilled over into the music, as well. On Mountain, a Fleck composition Corea embraced as a vehicle for “bluegrass piano,” two schools of interpretation went to work. For Fleck, the tune’s folky theme, which was reminiscent of Shady Groves, reflected not only Appalachian roots but distant beginnings in traditional British and Celtic music. Corea answered with a variation of the melody that was ripe with Bud Powell-style bebop.

But such cross genre pollination was what made these unexpected piano/banjo duets so fascinating. The colors Fleck brought forth often possessed keyboard like qualities - like a harpsichord, mostly - which helped shove the cartoon-like Spectacle close to ragtime territory and Children’s Song #6 into a muscular, speed-demon chase.

The concert repertoire stuck to 10 of the 11 tunes from the duo’s recent The Enchantment album. The lone holdout, A Strange Romance, was traded out for a Henri Dutilleux piano prelude. With a title roughly translated from French as Lullaby, the work was full of contained, but still threatening beauty. It was also the only piece Corea used sheet music for.

Fleck’s Flecktones staple Sunset Road closed the two hour, two set performance. And again, genres happily slammed into each other. Already a piece of light bluegrass fusion to begin with, Corea turned the work into a blues stroll before cracking it open for some subtle swing.

As was the case with the entire performance, it was tough to tell if Corea and Fleck seemed proud or simply bemused at the song’s new shape. But judging by the broad grins on their faces, the deconstruction and re-assembly process must have been a blast.

When Phoebe Hunt marked the day on her calendar, she thought she was simply noting another gig in another city.

To a degree, she was used to that. An industrious Austin, Tx. violinist, Hunt studied for two years at Mark O’ Connor’s prestigious fiddle camp and was a recipient of the Daniel Pearl Memorial Violin Award. Then after switching studies at the University of Texas from business to a degree in history with a minor in Spanish, she immersed herself as a performer in Austin’s vast live music scene.

But the concert at hand suggested an adventure. It began with a call from two Austin pals, singer/songwriter/guitarist Rob Teter and guitarist Marshall Hood. Then it entailed a drive to New Orleans to meet with bassist Jeff Brown (who had played with Teter and Hood in the now defunct DesChamps Band), pianist Connor Forsyth and drummer Jonathan Konya.

The performance was at a festival in yet another city. So after a few days of intense rehearsals and a resulting sound that began to mirror the gypsy flavored jazz and string fueled swing of decades past, it was on to Wilkesboro, North Carolina.

Now, here’s where the story gets a little intense. The players weren’t headed for some casual bluegrass or roots music festival. Hunt and her friends found themselves at MerleFest, one of the largest and certainly most respected Americana music gatherings in North America. Among the acts they would be sharing the bill with: Elvis Costello, Alison Krauss, Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, John Hammond, Bela Fleck, Peter Rowan, Tony Rice and the roots music giant who was the inspiration for the 20 year old festival, Doc Watson.

And instead of skipping into such extraordinary company as a long-running ensemble, Hunt and company - who had dubbed themselves The Belleville Outfit - were playing their very first gig after a modest two days of rehearsal.

Now that’s what you call a band entrance.

“I think Rob had originally been offered the gig,” Hunt recalled. “He couldn’t say no. But it was also a case of, ‘Yes, maam. I have a band.’ And then he started calling everyone.  I didn’t really know about Merlefest. I was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll do the gig’ and just wrote it on my calendar.”

The mix of jazz, country, blues, New Orleans soul and hot swing music seemed to flow readily at Merlefest for The Belleville Outfit (Belleville is French for “beautiful town” but is also the title of a tune by gypsy swing guitar legend Django Reinhardt that is part of the Outfit’s repertore). But then the inevitable question arose: “Now what?”

“That’s when we had to make a decision,” Hunt said. “I mean, the band had come together so quickly. The decision we faced was, ‘Are we gong to keep dong this? That’s when everyone decided to change their whole lives.”

That meant the Outfit’s New Orleans delegation gave up school (for now, at least) and relocated to Austin. That meant the band hit the road for the sort of woodshedding touring experience that young acts have to endure in order to establish a band sound, a group spirit and a devout fanbase.

The Belleville Outfit has already accomplished the latter in Lexington through shows over the last year at Natasha’s Café, where it will play again on Tuesday. Now comes the next phase, a hearty indie debut album called Wanderin’ that was released two weeks ago.

The music is an appealing sampler of Teter tunes that run from animated swing (Caroline) to leisurely country strolls (Ease My Mind) to Western-tinged blues (Been Here Before). Rounding out the recording are a pair of songs by the late Austin songsmith Walter Hyatt (including a version of Wonder Why that mixes tropical atmospherics, a mighty New Orleans rumble and Hunt’s assertive singing) and the dizzying fiddle swing of the 1946 Peggy Lee hit It’s a Good Day.

The latter could almost be a theme song for The Belleville Outfit. Its music has a pronounced drive, yet the feel is light. It may flirt with the blues, but the resulting attitude is seldom less than exuberant. And while it hints at swing, country and jazz sounds from the ‘40s and early ‘50s, nothing on Wanderin’ sounds like a museum piece

“This is fun music,” Hunt said. “Playing it at shows and making people happy, that’s what keeps us going. It makes you feel like what you’re doing matters.”

(above photo of The Belleville Outfit by George Brainard)

The Belleville Outfit performs at 8 p.m. Tuesday at Natasha’s Café, 112 Esplanade. Cover charge is $10. Call (859) 259-2754.

Oh the decadence of having a learned rock ‘n’ roller in church preaching to the faithful on Saturday night instead of Sunday morning. But Aussie/New Zealander Tim Finn - mainstay leader of Split Enz, alumnus of Crowded House and half of the famed Finn Brothers - was anything but threatening during a 75 minute career retrospective concert last night at Louisville’s St. Francis of Assisi Church.

Assisted only by guitarist Brett Adams, a small kick drum kit inspired by the late Crowded House percussionist Paul Hester and a Steinway piano positioned so close to the audience that the singer could pretty much shake hands with those in the front pew, Finn offered a good natured recital of his worldly pop wares.

The older Split Enz music still possessed a cheery, rockish attitude but was otherwise revamped for the occasion. I See Red strutted to a Memphis rockabilly groove while the playful Shark Attack was beefed up with electric colors by Adams that combined Jimmy Page-style psychedelia with Duane Eddy twang.

A trio of tunes from Crowded House’s Woodface retained their compositional warmth within the leaner arrangements, although the least known of the three - the album-closing How Will You Go - also made a cunning transformation into a British, folk-flavored waltz reminiscent of early Fairport Convention.

Aside from an elegant reading of 1993’s Persuasion, the only Finn solo recording represented was last year’s Imaginary Kingdom. But the six tunes pulled from the album revealed the performance’s greatest stylistic and emotive depth.

So Precious lost much of the dance hall pop mood of its recorded version and offered the evening’s most realized rock ‘n’ roll. Winter Light all but melted into fine melodic icicles with Adams’ sharpened guitar atmospherics nicely complimenting Finn’s piano coda. Also, Unsinkable revealed the sort of family values that even a Saturday church crowd might find frightful. Finn revealed it was inspired by his young son who, after viewing Titanic, expressed the desire that he and his Dad, when seabound, ”go down together.”

A pair of new, unrecorded tunes - the Strawbs-like Saw and the Tree and the more generously percussive Driving Blind - completed this smart, inventive and, yes, slightly righteous pop testimonial.

(above photo of Tim Finn by Darryl Ward)

Among the past week’s off-hour spins:

+ The Sadies: New Seasons - Another reason why Toronto’s Sadies are my favorite alt-country band. Imagine the rootsy heart of the Clarence White-era Byrds beating in the psychedelic frame of the Gene Clark-era Byrds. Seriously cool country music.

+ Herbie Hancock: Head Hunters - Watching Herbie take the big prize at last week’s Grammys and subsequently tick the pop mainstream off inspired a fresh listen to his 1973 funk/fusion masterwork. One of the keyboardist’s dozen or so career milestone records.

+ Philip Glass: A Descent into the Maelstrom - The first time I saw the Glass Ensemble perform, about 22 years ago, it played this score of righteous arpeggios afloat in an ocean of synthesizers and winds. Philip Glass taking on Edgar Allan Poe - now that’s scary.  

+ Nik Bartsch’s Ronin: Holon - Fine new ECM jazz from Swiss pianist Bartsch that blends crisp grooves, impressionistic European backdrops and a compositional craftiness that falls between Chick Corea and The Bad Plus.

+ Fairport Convention: Live at the BBC - A sublime four-disc, import only assemblage of radio performances by the seminal British folk-rock band. The late Sandy Denny sings like a doomed angel while a young Richard Thompson masters the Dickensian blues.

It’s no wonder Tim Finn named his newest solo album Imaginary Kingdom. It boasts a pop sound every bit as royal as his finest music with the star Aussie bands Split Enz and Crowded House. But the king surrounds himself with a more modest court these days. Sure, Imaginary Kingdom got its start, in essence, in Hollywood with a slice of lovely chill titled Winter Light. It was penned for the 2005 soundtrack to The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. But the bulk of Imaginary Kingdom’s fine pop delicacies were designed with far less fanfare.

“I did a bunch of demos with piano, Hammond organ, vocals and tambourine,” said Finn, who performs a “semi-acoustic” Saturday concert in Louisville accompanied by guitarist Brett Adams (Ray Smith of Central Kentucky’s Tula will open). “But you always want to hear what it’s like to expand things.”

While Imaginary Kingdom may not be the kind of cross-continental hit Split Enz enjoyed in the early ‘80s or as commercially visible as his lone album with Crowded House (1991’s Woodface), it has helped Finn re-connect with an audience way above the great Down Under. The album also boasts a quieter elegance that is in keeping with 2004’s sublime Everyone is Here with Neil Finn, his younger brother and bandmate in Split Enz and Crowded House.

But it was the sudden end of a Finn Brothers tour that triggered Imaginary Kingdom’s most openly emotive song. In March 2005, Split Enz/Crowded House drummer Paul Hester committed suicide at age 46. Having arrived in London for three sold out performances at the Royal Albert Hall when the news hit, the Finns cancelled their entire European tour and flew to Australia for Hester’s funeral. Tim Finn then retreated to his native New Zealand and composed the lovely requiem Salt to the Sea.

“We were devastated,” Finn recalled. “Neil and I did those three shows and flew straight back. So our grief and shock were compounded by jet lag. It was just a nightmare. Nobody knew what to do or say.

“Paul was a lodger in my house in Australia when he was with Split Enz. So the song just made me think of the early days of our friendship.”

In the wake of the farewell to a member of the Finns’ extended musical family came the more heartwarming rise of a closer relative, namely Liam Finn  - Neil’s son, Tim’s nephew - who recently released a North American debut album called I’ll Be Lightning. There are echoes of the elder Finns’ vocal finesse in his singing. But Liam Finn (who performs at the Mad Hatter in Covington on March 28) boasts a bawdier, brasher pop sound all his own. And Uncle Tim, for one, couldn’t be more proud.

“When Liam was five, he would come out when the rest of us were having a jam, a party or anything with friends and guitars around. We would bring out a snare drum and Liam would play the backbeat with this deadly serious look on his face. He’s always been a musician in his heart and soul.”

Finn plans to stick to his intentions of making quieter, sparser music on his next album, which he will record this spring with help from Adams and a pair of Split Enz alums, keyboardist Eddie Rayner and violinist Miles Golding.

“There won’t even be drums. It will just be a chamber-pop sort of thing. I love that kind of sound.”

(photo of Tim Finn by Darryl Ward)

Tim Finn performs at 8 p.m. Saturday at St. Francis of Assisi Church, 1960 Bardstown Road in Louisville.  Ray Smith will open. Tickets are $20. Call (502) 456-6394.

“Sometimes you’ve just got to do song about a hot tub,” shouted a jubilant Phil Vassar (right) late into his 90 minute, mostly acoustic performance last night at the Opera House. Absolutely. With outside temps in the teens, why not transform the Opera House into a West Coast piano bar and stir things up with a saucy come-on tune like I’ll Take That as a Yes (The Hot Tub Song). Though it meant leaving any semblance of country tradition out in the snow, the pianist/singer displayed a performance vigor that was tough not to get swept up in.

Employing guitarist Jeff Smith as a foil and sidekick as much as a harmony singer and accompanist, along with barreling runs on a Yamaha Baby Grand, Vassar had little interest in keeping things neat and tidy onstage. When an impromptu stab at the Grease hit Summer Nights ignited an immediate audience sing-a-long, Vassar followed the tune to a spirited and unapologetically messy conclusion. When an audience member called out for Amazing Grace (not the spiritual staple, but a romantic remembrance cut by Vassar in 2004), he obliged. And if Vassar felt like blasting the record label he recently split from, then he would let the rants rip between songs.

But the mood remained pretty light all night long, especially when some unlikely (and perhaps unintentional) inspirations shadowed the songs. The 2000 Vassar hit Carlene, for instance, deflected country accents to instead recall the breezier, queasier pop stride of Ben Folds while a Springsteen-ian nerve was struck during the set-closing version of Bye Bye (a Vassar tune that was initially a hit for Jo Dee Messina). It was great fun all the way around

Like Vassar, show openers Keith Anderson and Jennifer Hanson, are songwriters about to release new albums on new labels this spring.

Anderson played the role of party boy, dropping numerous references to Kentucky bourbon in a 45 minute set that let pop ballads (the new I Still Miss You) mingle with novelty redneck anthems (XXL, which strutted into Hank Williams Jr. honky tonk turf) and his own spin on John Mellencamp-esque smalltown life (Podunk). It was a strong, audience friendly performance for what Anderson termed “the Lexington Opry House” even if the material quickly spun itself into a derivative rut.

Los Angeles-born Hanson struck up an appealing ‘60s pop flame with Beautiful Goodbye before switching to mandolin for the folkish flow of Leave the Pieces (an original that hit big for The Wreckers). But Hanson only managed to squeeze a total of four songs into a half hour set that went way heavy on the chat. You left knowing more about her “Texas redneck” husband that you did about her music.

My two cents on the “closing” of the Icehouse:

Underground art has long been the ugly ducking, evil stepchild and all-around miscreant of the pop world. Yet it has shown a survival instinct many commercial artists can’t begin to muster. It thrives because of the sheer need of the art at hand to be heard, seen, or experienced.

When a commercial music venue closes, the reason is usually simple: money. That’s not so much an issue with the Icehouse or any of the venues Ross Compton has used to bring in a parade of indie jazz and pop artists in recent years. Some draw respectable crowds. Most bring in just a devoted handful. None of the venues served alcohol, so there was hardly a buck to be made. And certainly no one was accosted by luxury when they attended these concerts. True to its name, the Icehouse doesn’t even have heat. Such is the school of survival. I’ve seen people huddling around space heaters at these shows. Shoot, I’ve been one of them.

My point is this: any active arts scene needs art that falls off the radar. Call it fringe. Call it subversive. Call it underground. I call it balance, pure and simple. Along with the large commercial attractions that bring in the masses and make the mega bucks are the underlings that create art, as the cliché goes, for art’s sake. To them, invariably, go the table scraps. Most of the fringe folk are happy and appreciative to get them, too.

I know Ross well enough to realize he isn’t expecting charity for the shows he organizes. I also know keeping an underground scene active takes more than the work of a single person - and for a long, long time, Ross has done the better part of his work alone. So this might be a golden opportunity for city officials and patrons that speak of a vital and productive arts scene in Lexington to pitch in.

Maybe those developing some of the city’s prospective arts/youth/entertainment districts (like the warehouse row on Manchester St.) might be willing to donate a venue, room or space.

Maybe you yourself have (or know of) a gallery or performance space that might accommodate an appreciative, alternative and diverse audience that is interested more in the spirit of active artistic creation than another beer-soaked social setting? Now is the time to speak up.

It doesn’t take much. A room clean enough to be audience friendly and warm enough in winter to where audience members can be entertained by something other than the sight of their own breath is all people like Ross need. The resulting art will create its own vibe and atmosphere.

Of course, the art will survive regardless. But how encouraging it would be if Lexington, consumed has it has been for years with growth, might lend a modest hand. Just because the art in question hails from the underground doesn’t mean it won’t welcome a glimpse of the sun.

In classical music, the piano is sovereign. It is a prime compositional tool as well as a performance platform for orchestral elegance and invention.

In rock ‘n roll, the instrument is an organic voice of rebellion. You don’t even have to plug it in. From Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis to Elton John and Billy Joel, the piano has summoned echoes of boogie woogie, blues, jazz and a world of danceable joys.

But what about country music? In a genre that has thrived through its portability, the piano is too cumbersome. Too stately. It always has been. Imagine Roy Rogers riding into the sunset on Trigger with a Steinway strapped to his saddle.

Well, don’t tell that to Phil Vassar, the country star that lit up the charts with a wave of hits he wrote for such artists as Alan Jackson and Tim McGraw before his own name hit the marquee. More than any contemporary country artist, Vassar has found a new place for the piano in modern day Nashville.

“Nashville is such a guitar town,” Vassar said during a recent phone interview from Philadelphia. “I think that’s why it took me so long to get a record deal in the first place. People are used to seeing country artists sitting on a stool playing guitar.

“But I’ve always appreciated the piano as a percussive instrument, not strictly a classical one. I’m a blues and rock ‘n’ roll player at heart. I learned from Jerry Lee Lewis not Van Cliburn.”

So confident is Vassar that the piano can carry a country show that he has embarked on a stripped down winter tour of theatres. Aside from the piano, his only accompaniment will come from longtime guitarist/bandmate Jeff Smith. There will be no flashy video screens. No multi tiered stages. No massive band that sounds more like ZZ Top than an honest honky tonk assembly.

“It’s like being in your living room,” Vassar said. “You go onstage, start a conversation with the audience, talk about how and why you wrote the songs. It’s complete freedom. It really is. You’re not confined to a set list or anything like that.

“The wild thing is that this is how I started out. I did five hour shows, just me and a piano, for many years. That kind of experience really prepares you for a tour like this because these are not laid back shows we’re doing. If someone shouts out for a hit, I’m ready. If someone shouts out for an Elton John song, I’ll play that. I’ll play anything.”

A native of Lynchburg, Va., Vassar moved to Nashville in hopes of a country career in 1989. But it was his songs, not his versions of them, that initially caught the attention of artists and record executives.

While one of the first singers to record a Vassar song was veteran pop crooner Engelbert Humperdinck, his music was popularized starting in the late ‘90s by Jackson (Right on the Money), McGraw (For a Little While and My Next Thirty Years), Jo Dee Messina (Bye Bye and I’m Alright) and others.

By 2000, Vassar released a debut album that yielded five singles, including a No. 1 hit called Just Another Day in Paradise. Since then, his Top 5 singles have included American Child, That’s When I Love You, Last Day of My Life and, in 2004, a second charttopper called In a Real Love. The latter recalls the rootsy pop of another piano playing Virginian, Bruce Hornsby..

Vassar stressed he was an entertainer before becoming a songwriter. But the pianist also confessed having other artists fashion hits out of songs he wrote paved the way for his own recording career.

“It really did. I was kind of in the middle of it all and didn’t really know what to expect with my records. A lot of my friends in Nashville were artists that were getting signed before I was. And they were having hits with my songs. That helped because people at radio knew who I was through those songs, so they were at least familiar with me in that way.

“A lot of times, being a songwriter doesn’t translate into being an artist. But I felt I was an artist before I became a writer, so I was one up on everything.”

So, for an artist turned songwriter turned artist, what triggers a great country song? For Vassar, it’s all about being open and alert enough to recognize the right inspiration when it hits.

“Between your own life and your friends’ lives, ideas just get thrown at you everyday. Most of them you just kind of let go right by. Sometimes, though, if you’re smart enough, you stick your net out and catch one. And you write that idea down.

“I’ve written them on napkins, I’ve written them on my hand. You just have to be smart enough to write that stuff down when it hits you.”

Phil Vassar, Keith Anderson and Jennifer Hanson perform at 7:30 tonight at the Lexington Opera House. Tickets are $24. Call (859) 233-3535, (859) 281-6644.

Ben Ratliff of The New York Times is one of my favorite writer/commentators on jazz and popular music. Here is a piece from this morning’s NYT that tries to make sense of the surprise/jubilation/uproar over Herbie Hancock’s Album of the Year win at Sunday’s Grammy Awards. The article balks a bit when trying to sum itself up, but Ratliff’s observations on jazz’s biggest Grammy win in decades are very insightful. Well worth the read.