Jeff's Jazz Festival - Day 3

Photo courtesy of chrismear

Last night started with a more traditional jazz slant with McCoy Tyner Trio at the Centre for the Performing Arts. If you're at all familiar with jazz history, you probably know about McCoy Tyner's work with John Coltrane, and if you're anything like me, that's about all you know. For the vast majority of mortal musicians, spending half a decade as an integral part of one of the most influential ensembles in your respective genre would almost justify sitting back on your laurels and basking in the glory of your legendary status. But jazz just doesn't seem to work that way and Mr. Tyner is no exception. His career has spanned 50 years and thus far has produced about 80 albums, collaborations with a packed list of the jazz greats (Sonny Rollins, Wayne Shorter, Michael Brecker, etc.), and has seen him win four Grammys and a host of other awards. But that's old news, what about last night?

Well McCoy Tyner showed up with a smoking rhythm section comprised of Charnett Moffett on upright bass and Eric Gravatt on drums and did they ever go off. The thing that I love about seeing legends like McCoy Tyner is that you know that the person who you're watching perform has had an active role in shaping the history of music. They've seen so much go down that it's sort of hard to comprehend. Like one time when I was watching the Elvin Jones Jazz Machine. Here was this 80-year-old drummer who was just playing circles around his supporting band. A guy who'd been one of the world's best drummers for probably twice as long as his bass player had even been alive. And the best part was just watching his expression when one of his boys blazed out a smoking solo. Elvin would be bashing away on his drums with his eyes closed, and when he heard something he liked, he'd just nod his head and break out into a huge smile. But I'm way off track here... where were we? Right. The McCoy Tyner Trio's set covered everything from ballads to hardcore bebop and they absolutely nailed every piece. And I must say that while bass solos generally leave me cold, Moffett was killing it. And how about Eric Gravat leaning down to fix his bass drum pedal multiple times without missing a beat? Now that's a veteran for you. Hot hot hot.

Since we were already downtown it seemed prudent to check out what was going on at The Commodore. As good a concert venue as the Commodore is, you just can't get around the fact that it's on Granville St., which means you can count on being surrounded by drunken squealing hoochie mamas who totter around on 5-inch heels while under the watchful and protective eye of their respective bar-bodied beaus. But at least the Jazz Fest shows bring out a bit more of a diverse crowd... like the elderly couple who were cutting a serious rug on the dancefloor. Those two were awesome. And the 50-something couple beside me who looked around guiltily/naughtily whilst smoking a joint. But the music is what I'm supposed to be talking about here, right? Yes. The first band we saw was a local five-piece (bass, drums, guitar/singer & 2 singers) called Mother who struck me as pretty funny on first glance. Mostly because there was the blond singer/guitarist in the middle, a blond singer girl on either side of him, and then, off to the side, the bearded trucker hat guy on bass. It seemed like one of those "we need a bass player. Doesn't Johnny's brother play bass? You know... the skater guy who hangs out at AntiSocial?" type of situations. But who cares about that? When I started paying attention to the music, I was provided with a very pleasant suprise. Mother spent their whole set jumping deftly back and forth between catchy pop, post-punk in the Pixies vein, Johnny Cash country, straight ahead rock, and everything else in between. I usually don't go for the pop acts, but when a band does it as well and as tightly as Mother, you can't help but enjoy it. And I'd like to say that those two girls sang really really well together. Impressive indeed.

Next up was Melbourne, Australia's The Cat Empire. I knew very little about them going in, but one of my best friends, Sophie, is a cat so I was more than willing to give them a shot. They came out on a hard grooving tip and The Blues Brothers kept coming to mind... mostly because of the combo of the organ and the rock-solid driving bass playing a la Donald Duck Dunn. Those first few songs were exactly what I needed to hear and I was a happy kid. But by then it was transitioning into that time of the night when people start getting noticeably more annoying. The evening's booze has taken its toll and the drunks are staggering around and bashing suavely through the crowd like pinballs. The deathblow for the evening came when the band shifted gears into more of a Sublime vein just as one of the aforementioned drunken bimbos spilled a drink down Stacy's back. We interpreted that combo of events as our cue to leave. We went home to bed and slept late.