Ben Wendel - NYC Jazz Record

Ben Wendel - Frame

Eclectic saxophonist Ben Wendel has lent his distinct
tenor to countless records from coast to coast but has
solidified his reputation with his band Kneebody. For
his second solo release Wendel has amassed a first-rate
band (which includes two members of Kneebody) that
tackles his eight original compositions (and one
standard) with a refreshing, youthful ferocity.

The album opens with the crashing “Chorale”, full
of driving, clustered harmonies. The first solo of the
album is offered up to pianist Gerald Clayton’s assured
swing. It is only after guitarist Nir Felder’s flickering
solo that Wendel steps forward to deliver an angular
solo of his own. Wendel’s winding duet on Dizzy
Gillespie’s “Con Alma” pits him against Clayton.
Through a deft reharmonization and a beautiful closing
unison line (that ends on an oblique “Giant Steps”
reference) the duo take Gillespie’s minimalist melody
into the 21st century. “Backbou” finds Wendel honking
on bassoon. Pianist Tigran Hamasyan pounds out a
solo alongside drummer Nate Wood’s pummeling pots
and pans but Wendel soon takes the reins, placing a
subdued solo over the slightly less subdued rhythm
section. The shifting “Blocks” gets a plunking solo
from bassist Ben Street. Wendel takes a long-toned solo
over another track in which Hamasyan provides
heavy-handed accompaniment. The title track is a fast
moving tune that finds the propulsive rhythm section
leaving ample space for Wendel’s furious weaving
lines. His breathless attack covers the entire range of
his horn, leaving little doubt as to why he might name
the album after this particular performance. The album
closes gently with “Julia”. Over the quiet rumbling of
the album’s third pianist (Adam Benjamin) Wendel
weaves a delicate solo while closing with an orchestral
hum from his bassoon over his overdubbed tenor.

Wendel has created an engaging album, brimming
with unique instrumentation and ample space for all
the musicians involved. His compositional talents
assure his presence even when he is relinquishing the
sound to his bandmates.

Ben Wendel @ NYC Jazz Record

Bernstein, Goldings, Stewart - NYC Jazz Record

Bernstein, Goldings, Stewart - Live at Smalls

For guitarist Peter Bernstein’s second release on
smallsLIVE, he ropes in his old bandmates, organist
Larry Goldings and drummer Bill Stewart, for a classic
organ trio set. Recorded in January 2011 in the tight
basement club (how did they get that B3 down there?)
the band is in fine form, swinging through a grab bag
of standards and a couple of originals.

The album opens with the laidback Duke Pearson
standard “Chant”. Bernstein spirals out of the gate,
drawing quivering vibratos from his guitar while
Goldings finds a deliberate pace and stretches out
nicely. The Cole Porter ballad “Everytime We Say
Goodbye” opens with humming B3 serving up a quiet
mass while Bernstein, with limited frills, takes on the
melody. With no particular urgency the guitarist works
his way in and out of the extended song form, placing
tasteful phrases over Stewart’s subtle brushes.
Goldings is equally controlled, building slightly louder
before stepping back for Bernstein’s melodic return.

The bandleader’s original “Just a Thought” raises the
pulse with a harder swinging approach that features
the guitarist letting loose over Goldings’ syncopated
punch. The Miles classic “Milestones” opens with
interstellar meandering by Goldings that summons
both the ghost of Sputnik and an 8-bit video game
before launching into a hard-driving, 12-minute chase.
Bernstein and Goldings both take frenetic solos
peppered with pinpoint phrasing before making way
for Stewart, who begins his solo by winding down the
band to a crawl before slowly splashing his way across
the kit, artfully drawing the band back with a
percussive approach to the theme. The band rides out
on snippets of the melody, briefly changing key as
Bernstein sputters to a close over driving cymbals. The
album ends with the obscure Percy Mayfield blues
“The Danger Zone”. Bernstein bends his way through
the crawling melody before stretching out in his solo.
Goldings jumps with an equally slow pace, extracting
intensity from his drawbars.

For fans of classic organ trios (Jimmy Smith/
Kenny Burrell, Mel Rhyne/Wes Montgomery) this
album is a perfect throwback. The repertoire and style
is firmly rooted in classic ‘60s soul and the band is in
top form, playing to a full but unobtrusive crowd, just
what one might hope for from three masters of the
genre spending a weekend in a New York basement.

Bernstein, Goldings, Stewart @ NYC Jazz Record

Merry Clayton Live - LA Weekly

Merry Clayton
The Mint
1-31-12

Better than...getting stomped at Altamont.

Merry Clayton is a soul legend. With over 40 years since her appearance on the Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter" Clayton has solidified herself as a top-notch belter, tackling anything and everything in between. Last night before a sizable crowd at the Mint, Clayton and her eight-piece band turned on the charm and recruited a few more members to her fanclub.

After her five instrumentalists and three back-up vocalists churned out driving blues, Clayton sauntered out to rapturous applause. Throughout the night countless "we love you!" shouts emanated from the crowd.

After promising the audience "some sweetness," Clayton brought the band to a simmer with her take on Carole King's "After All This Time." The chatty but adoring crowd responded enthusiastically to Clayton's question: "Got your liquor on?"

Clayton continued the parade of hits with her Dirty Dancing contribution "Yes," full of '80s soul-ballad resplendence. Leon Russell's "A Song For You" created a hush as saxophonist Joe Vasquez played, before Clayton instigated a sing-along, imploring the audience "Y'all can do better." And they did. By the end of the song most of the audience had caught on to Clayton's call and response.

Clayton introduced the next song, "The Times They Are A-Changing", by highlighting her connections to Bob Dylan. "I consider him to be a friend," she said after explaining her appearance at the Monterey Pop Festival. Clayton took a slow-burning tour through Dylan's anthem accompanied only by the guitar. When she finished, the rapt audience shouted for a little "Mighty Quinn" and she indulged them with an a cappella chorus.

Barely forty minutes into the show, Clayton announced she was wrapping up. "Mother needs to go home and get some rest," she said. "This is not 1970 and I'm not 19." Several members of the audience shouted for her to close with Bill Withers' "Grandma's Hands" and she playfully sang a chorus of that too. "None of that is in the show" she promised before launching into her signature song: "Gimme Shelter."

Clayton is the original singer on the Rolling Stone's menacing classic. Her harrowing cries are surrounded by rock and roll lore and she happily embraces her role. "'We need you to come down and sing with these English guys,'" she recounted as the band vamped over the intro. "Me and these two children ... He [Mick Jagger] is not black. Where did he get these lips from?"

Although she didn't belt out "rape and murder" with the same ferocity of forty years ago Clayton gave it her all and then slowly introduced each band member. When all was said and done their rendition lasted nearly 20 minutes before Clayton walked off the stage leaving the audience satisfied but wanting more.

Personal Bias: Clayton's contribution to "Gimme Shelter" is probably the best vocal performance ever released on a Rolling Stones record.

The Crowd: Diverse and looking to party. Plus Lou Adler.

Random Notebook Dump: The unidentified back-up vocalist who looked like a psychedelic Cornel West needs his own show.

Merry Clayton @ LA Weekly

Just a New York Conversation: Lou Reed - LA Weekly

Lou Reed is a rock and roll legend. That is an indisputable fact. And he doesn't bless Southern California with his downtown swagger very often. So when he takes part in a staged conversation it is only fair that he gets to pick the subjects.

Unfortunately for many who paid $45 bucks to hear Reed's deadpan drawl on CSULB's Carpenter Performing Arts Center stage Friday, he was mostly interested in discussing his 1975 attempt at career suicide, Metal Machine Music, which is also the focus of the art show Reed was there to promote. The topics of the Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol, Laurie Anderson, even Metallica, were ignored in favor of Cartesian coordinates and pressure gradients.

Based on the few dozen walk-outs it is safe to say that some people were disappointed to not hear about David Bowie but more surprisingly Reed and moderator Bob Ezrin seemed disappointed that many in the audience didn't share their enthusiasm for $400 dollar headphones.

The evening started out promising. Reed, weeks from 70, ambled across the stage, wearing an ensemble of faded black with red socks, greeted by a standing ovation. Ezrin, a man with many multi-platinum production credits (Pink Floyd's The Wall, Kiss' Destroyer, Alice Cooper's School's Out), promised a "public conversation between two dear friends." And that conversation seemed pretty relaxed.

Reed addressed the Occupy Wall Street movement ("everyone is wondering where the fuck are the students these days?"), Newt Gingrich ("three wives and conservative values. Maybe he knows something we don't.") and even the contributions of African-Americans to popular song ("if we didn't have black people, we'd be fucked. We'd still be doing jigs...nevermind R&B and the dunk-shot.") And then things took a turn.

After a fairly lengthy discussion about the greatness of a particular brand of earbuds, a member of the audience expressed his disinterest in the topic. "You guys are talking about headphones?" yelled the surly, hirsute audience member. To which Reed challenged him to stand up and identify himself and another member of the audience shouted at the heckler "stand up, asshole!" The uninhibited man did stand up and escorted himself out of the theater after a brief fist-pump. From there on out the evening was dedicated to Metal Machine Music and the art show.

A mere ten-minute hike from the theater, a darkened room in the University Art Museum already emitting the dense smell of body heat houses the art show, a $80,000 dollar sound-immersion project. The twelve-speaker project attempts to recreate the spatial sensation of standing on stage amid Reed's harrowing feedback, which was re-recorded in 2009 in New York. If you can withstand the aural assault ("loud" was probably the most popular word of the evening), the project is impressive. Anytime there is more than one adult lying on the floor, you know you are in for an interesting time.
​
At the event, Reed and Ezrin were eventually joined by members of Reed's band (Ulrich Krieger, Sarth Calhoun) and the tech-heads who helped make it possible. The rest of the evening was then dedicated to the discussion of sines and cosines and at that point the walk-outs accelerated.

An agonizing question and answer session, which sometimes had two or three people asking a question at the same time, only helped to insure that little else would be discussed on stage.

Reed even admitted that the biggest mistake he made about Metal Machine Music was "putting it out." So it was curious to see him baffled by some of the audience's disinterest in the subject.

Ezrin closed the evening by essentially apologizing for their passionate gear-talk. "I want to thank everyone for indulging us," he said. "This is how our brain's work. It's not a show."

And with that the house lights got a little brighter, the remaining audience applauded and "Walk on the Wild Side" started playing over the house speakers.

Come back soon, Lou!

Lou Reed @ LA Weekly

Top Ten Best Live Music Venues - LA Weekly

Here's my contribution to the ten best venues list for LA Weekly. Pretty good list.

8. Blue Whale

Located in a corner of Little Tokyo that sees the least amount of foot traffic, the Blue Whale is a jazz sanctuary. The sound system is perfect, the house piano is a jewel and the bar staff takes care of you. Whether you want to hear avant-noise from serious-looking Europeans or soak up some straight-ahead sounds from our vast collection of local talent, the Blue Whale is always a worthwhile bet.


Top Ten Best Live Music Venues (#10 - #6) @ LA Weekly

LA Jazz Clubs Need More Loud Drunks - LA Weekly

A little heckling never hurt...

Over the summer I was at the Blue Whale jam session when a handful of drunken girls were asked to leave for being too chatty. Set aside the miracle of a bunch of drunken girls actually being at a jazz club; the fact that they booted on a night when literally anyone can play is absurd. And probably not too good for business, either.

Regardless of what snotty musicians might think, jazz clubs could use a few more noisy drunks, girls or otherwise, because not only do they pay the bills, they bring a bit of energy to a sometimes-sullen genre.

Before long jazz will be as bad as classical. The Los Angeles Philharmonic's website says that if you're not sure when to applaud, "the safest course is to wait until the conductor has turned around to face the audience and everyone is clapping." The message seems to be that people with unbridled enthusiasm should go somewhere else, somewhere where they're not as strict with the rules to their music.

But second only to classical snobs are jazz snobs. For a genre based largely on improvisation, it's odd that they take pride in applauding at just the right time , and pity those unfamiliar with the genre's increasingly rigid code of conduct.

Jazz got its start in brothels and bars. Somewhere around the time Miles turned his back on the audience and suburban kids started studying it in college, jazz transformed from entertainment to "art," and nowadays rarely looks back. Over-educated musicians expect silence and awe at their increasingly inaccessible sounds, whether it is deserved or not. The threat of a slurred heckle could do a lot to put that pretension aside.

Jazz players have long complained that they don't make any money. Could that perhaps be because they've seemingly pushed away anyone who might be casually interested, leaving little more than a few scattered intellectuals and their own family members? Why would anyone but the most devoted go out with friends to a jazz club when the experience is more akin to a church service?

At New York's Winter Jazzfest earlier this month, there were 65 bands over two nights, and over 4000 people showed up. The crowds were diverse and the drinks were flowing. The solution to combat the noise was to turn the bands up even louder, and most everyone seemed to be having a good time. Why can't we do that here? Sometimes, we can: Jax in Glendale is like that on good nights, and no one seems to mind. After all, people are there, first and foremost, to be entertained.

So I've come up with a simple solution: put a double-sided sign in front of every "jazz" club. If the sign reads "entertainment" that means we can bring our friends and have a good time. If the sign reads "art" that means we can show up alone, nurse a single beer and furrow our brows in silent reverie. That way everybody's happy. Right?

Loud Drunks @ LA Weekly

Brian Charette - LA Weekly

Brian Charette - Road Warrior

The last time I was here, I was chased out of my agent's place in West Hollywood with a baseball bat...Long story short, out comes the bat and I had to pack up my things in Trader Joe's bags and split. Halfway down the strip to my friend Samsonic's house, I passed a few other LA bums with their stuff in bags just like me. We looked each other up and down for a moment, then kept walking. I'm hoping this [L.A.] outing has a little less drama. -Brian Chrette's email pitch to LA Weekly

"Feel it," says the New York-based organist Charette, offering his pinky finger. "It's fused." We are standing at the bar of a small French bistro in Manhattan, having just met five minutes prior. His pinky finger is fixed into a permanent crook due to an amp falling on it ten years ago. "I can't play classical anymore" says Charette examining his damaged digit. "But I can still play jazz!"

Charette is the consummate road-warrior, and he has the scars to prove it. His pulpy organ sound has backed such disparate artists as soul-jazz legend Lou Donaldson and scarf-draped dandy Rufus Wainwright. This Tuesday Charette plays the first of three gigs in Los Angeles at the Mint alongside guitarist Greg Erba and drummer Andy Sanesi.

The night before we met, Charette played a gig in Boston. The next day, he was bound for Prague. After Los Angeles comes a couple of weeks in Southeast Asia. This dedication to gigging, although not much for his social life, has brought him before a lot of crowds. "I play about 330 gigs a year. In New York in the '90s, I'd play ten or eleven gigs a week!" He adds wistfully: "Those days are long gone."

To make up for it Charette has taken to what many stability-craving musicians do: he's teaching. "I just started writing these master class articles for Keyboard magazine. They're a lot of fun and the response has been great." Tackling subjects like orchestration and chord voicings, Charette has found a forum for his techniques, and he offers private lessons via Skype.

Charette has a controlled sound on the organ, taking a classic approach to both technique and instrumentation with his bands. His nimble lines follow in the footsteps of B3 masters like Jimmy Smith and Dr. Lonnie Smith. His patience and deliberation led WBGO tastemaker Josh Jackson to declare Charette a "master of space and time."

But Charette isn't just master of musical battles. As his website kungfugue.com attests, Charette could probably beat the shit out of you too; after all, he holds a "black sash" in White Crane kung fu, whatever that is. After ten years of study with a few less-than-stable mentors, Charette could probably do some damage, crooked pinky and all. He is even embarking on a project to bring his passions together, incorporating kung fu into his music like modern dance.

For now, Charette is focused on playing as many gigs as it takes to pay the rent. Despite being warmly embraced by the people of the Czech Republic finding an audience in sunnier domestic climates has proven difficult. "I have put more time into booking Los Angeles than anywhere else," says Charette. "I've made three trips to L.A. in the last year and a half. What's interesting is the crowd but I love it in L.A. I especially like walking there."

Brian Charette @ LA Weekly

Portlandia: The Tour - LA Weekly

Portlandia: The Tour
The Echoplex
1-17-12

Portlandia, the Pacific Northwest-skewering IFC comedy show now in its second season, has run less than ten episodes. But SNL'er Fred Armisen and Sleater-Kinney rocker Carrie Brownstein have clearly captured a devoted following. Last night, for an hour and a half, Portlandia: the Tour -- featuring Armisen, Brownstein and a handful of special guests -- presented their second sold-out night at the Echoplex, to an audience of hardcore fans.

The evening turned out to be neither rock concert nor comedy show, but more of an interactive convention for devotees of dumpster diving and homemade crafts. After a brief video introduction from the show's fictional mayor, Kyle MacLachlan, Armisen and Brownstein emerged for a 21st century Burns & Allen routine, sharing Armisen's increasingly clingy text messages, like "Your birth was not a birth but the death of all others."

The duo then strapped on some instruments (Armisen - bass/vocals, Brownstein - guitar/vocals) and were joined for several songs by Telekinesis mastermind Michael Lerner on drums and Brownstein's Wild Flag bandmate, keyboardist Rebecca Cole. "The Dream of the 90s," which appeared in the first episode, succinctly summed up the demographic of the audience ("In Portland, you can put a bird on something and call it art.") and drew supportive swaying.

The in-jokes continued. Between clips of the new season, Aubrey Plaza appeared in a skit that had her helping the show's feminist bookstore owners find a Los Angeles outpost. Comedian Kumail Nanjiani appeared as a car rental clerk.

The audience shouted comments at the stage, often receiving replies from the performers. At one point a moderator-free microphone was passed through the crowd for a question and answer session. Considering how awful those kind of things can be, this one was mercifully concise. But pity for anyone who had not seen the show at this point because the real nerd questions were handed out in droves (Tom Hulce is their dream guest. Beloved extra Ellen Bloodworth has some good Jerry Orbach stories.)

The evening closed with two songs aided by ageless Bangle Susanna Hoffs. The band opened with a loose but poppy version of the Velvet Underground's "Sunday Morning" and closed with a Velvet-y version of "Manic Monday," complete with feedback and thrashing windmills from Brownstein that resulted in a broken string.

And then, much like a Portlandia sketch, it was abruptly over. Brownstein, licking the frosting off a cupcake, said a clipped thanks and the piped-in reggae music that had started the evening returned.

Personal Bias: I miss Flight of the Conchords.

The Crowd: SNL fans, Sleater-Kinney fans and cat lovers.

Random Notebook Dump: Someone could have made a lot of money selling food (or pitchforks and torches) to the hundreds of ticket holders waiting in line a half hour after the supposed showtime.

Portlandia @ LA Weekly

LA Jazz Collective Residency - LA Weekly

Matt Otto Duo
Ariel Alexander Group
Matt Otto Quintet
Blue Whale
1-11-12

Better than...watching the People's Choice Awards

Last night, after a few technical difficulties and a strict adherence to "jazz time," the second of four residency performances by the LA Jazz Collective got underway at Little Tokyo's Blue Whale. The evening featured three bands presented by two leaders (saxophonists Matt Otto and Ariel Alexander) creating what Alexander cheekily referred to as a "Matt Otto sandwich."

The evening opened with tenor-man Otto working through a demure set alongside pianist Leonard Thompson. The two share a long history together and it was evident in their playing. For much of the set Otto hovered around his breathy lower register while Thompson laid down an impressionistic pillow of support. After a slight foray into the outer realms Otto returned with "All The Things You Are," giving it an airy swing that stopped one chord short of resolution. It was a pleasant set but a little sleepy, prompting the man next to me to get himself a cup of coffee.

The second set was led by alto saxophonist Ariel Alexander. Alexander, backed by a solid quintet that included mountainous bassist Tim Lefbrve, played a handful of originals composed by her and her guitarist (and husband), Jon Bremen. Alexander has a tight, controlled sound on the alto but it was often marred by needless and sometimes maddening effects. Nonetheless, within seconds of their opener, drummer Chaun Horton taught the house drum kit who was in charge, pounding with a relentless precision that never let up whether he was using sticks or brushes. The band even got the beanies in the crowd bobbing with their furious backbeat. But throughout the set only Lefbrve appeared to be having any fun, getting so funky on the last tune he had to sit down. Only when speaking did Alexander display a playful personality that could have been put to good use had it been channeled through her horn.

The final set of the evening featured the return of Otto with an instrumentation identical to Alexander's group, but in a more straight-ahead setting. In lieu of Horton's thunder we got the solid rhythm and Keith Moon-esque grimaces of drummer Jason Harnell and the equally stoic guitar work of Jamie Rosenn. Otto's democratic dispensing of solos led to some great turns from keyboardist Gary Fukushima -- who drew sharp yelps from his worn Wurlitzer -- and fearless bassist Ryan McGilliccuddy, who took the only four-stringed solos of the night. Towards the end of the set, nearly four hours after the start of the concert, Thompson returned to sit in with the quintet, literally sharing a piano bench with Fukushima. The band burned through Otto's obscure homage to George Shearing, creating a chordal wall that Otto had little trouble climbing.

Now halfway through their residency, the LA Jazz Collective has proven themselves worthy representatives of this sprawling city, with the ability to fill a room and keep them there. Their adventurous programming is a great testament to the vitality of the Los Angeles jazz scene.

Personal Bias: I attended the first ever meeting of the LA Jazz Collective. I said very little and enjoyed my breakfast.

The Crowd: Young people doubled up on little chairs. Old people doubled over them.

Random Notebook Dump: With all the feet moving around and all the drinks placed on the floor it was pretty impressive that only three glasses were broken.

LA Jazz Collective @ LA Weekly

Best of...2011

I contributed to two larger "Best of" lists for LA Weekly.

Books:

Out of the Vinyl Deeps: Ellen Willis on Rock Music
by Ellen Willis

This compilation of The New Yorker's first pop critic pulses with unbridled passion for artists as diverse as the Who, Bowie and the Boss. The unsung Willis had a keen eye for the importance of her subjects that helped to elevate the status of both the artists she wrote about and the genre of criticism she helped to create.

Best Books of 2011 @ LA Weekly

LA Jazz shows:

Walter Smith III
Blue Whale, December 17

Joon Lee, the modest personality behind Little Tokyo's Blue Whale, is an indispensible part of the local jazz community who books some of the most daring acts in Los Angeles. Saxophonist Walter Smith III, a hard-swinging transplant, was one such act earlier this month. His band of ringers put on an powerhouse set before a standing-room only crowd that reminded everyone that there is a sizable (and bar-patronizing!) jazz community in Los Angeles.

Best LA Jazz Shows @ LA Weekly