Poncho Hall at Cornish, rainy Seattle, thanks Earshot!
The quartet, led by Taborn's urbane flint, take the task of assembling a language long overused but never understood, seriously. Take Lightcap, the bassist who segued into the second movement of the first piece with a sly imitation of the west african cora. Sounded new and flat out swung. Taborn and King peppered each other with questions each pondered, dallied over, and volleyed but which neither cared to answer. I'm not sure of song names as they didn't announce them as they played. I'm sure I'll stitch some of it together when I listen to the cd: "daylight ghosts"..
Themes emerged over a night's work. One was a tip of the hat to the cinematic with airy abstractions hovering over clarinet broodings. Another was the progressive propulsiveness of several pieces as instruments strode toward stridency before meeting in the pocket of streetwise vernacular.
Bill Frissell was in the audience and rocked pie-eyed to some of the swaggier pieces. I often think of that great line he had in "Icons..." when asked if he thought jazz should reflect the times:
"Well, I think of jazz more as a model- what life could be..."
... In case anyone wonders why jazz players do what they do.
Finally, I gotta say; this concert cost $18. Eighteen bucks! A movie at a threadbare multiplex cost that much. You gotta ask yourself; "do I want to support the megabucks stranglehold Hollywood has on pop art these days?". Or do I want to support four guys who are creating something incredibly exciting and dragging their road sore asses from town to town in a super human effort to spread the good news.
Well, kid, do ya?