Show: Sachal Vasandani at Jazz Alley

Is it just me, or does referring to someone as a "crooner" feel like a putdown? Come to think of it, it probably is me.

Back in the college, I auditioned for a spot in the chapel choir. As a nervous sophomore transfer student  - and an admittedly poor site reader - my approach was on the tentative side, rather than the hammy imitation of the Bugs Bunny opera singer I'd learned to do in high school. This started as a gag to do for my friends; much to my surprise, choir teachers loved it. "Why don't you sing like that all the time?" one asked me. Anyway, after I'd stumbled through my Chapel Choir audition piece, the director muttered something about me being "more of a crooner." It was something in the tone of his voice, but I found myself wanting to leap across the room and choke him.

This memory resurfaced the other night at singer Sachal Vasandani's show at Dimitriou's Jazz Alley.The man introducing Vasandani described him as "a great crooner. These words were followed by an audible gulp, after which he hastily added, "...uh, and a first-rate jazz artist." It was the kind of recovery you might hear from a guy on a blind date who announces that Ugg boots are the least flattering footwear ever foisted on the feminine gender, only to look down and see a pair of chestnut brown Sundance IIs, the toe of one tapping ominously. "But they look great on you! Now what's taking so long with that table?"

Or anyway that's how I heard it.

The good news for the capacity crowd that greeted Vasandani - emerging from the back of the house, all movie-star handsome in a sharp suit and tie, gliding to the stage under the adoring gaze of a follow spot - is that the he is, in fact, both a great crooner and a first-rate jazz artist. He can also belt it out when called upon, and scat with smooth assurance.

He's also a gifted songwriter, capable of both adding to and re-interpreting the traditional jazz repertoire. A case in point is "Escape," a new introduction to "There's a Small Hotel." "Escape" not only stands on it’s own, while also allowing you to appreciate the original from a new angle.

Vasandani is touring in support of a new release, "We Move," on the excellent Mack Avenue label. The CD's production is quite lush, at times too much so for me. (I wouldn't be surprised to hear the title track turn up in the background of Grey's Anatomy.) On stage with his excellent young trio (Jeb Patton, piano; David Wong, bass; and the occasionally too loud Jeremy Brown, drums), Vasandani seemed to be having a high old time and exuded the charm and ease of classic Bobby Darin. The droning influence of Vasandani's fellow Chicagoan Kurt Elling, in evidence on both "We Move" and Vasandani's debut recording "Eyes Wide Open" was all but absent. To me that's a good thing.

On the cusp of his 30s, Vasandani is still working out who he is as an artist, incorporating influences as diverse as Sinatra, Jon Hendricks, Joni Mitchell, and Sade. The mix isn't perfectly distilled yet, but he and the trio consistently served up the good turtle soup. Mic dynamics proved to be an issue throughout the night, but I’m not sure whether this was his problem or something that should have been worked out during the sound check. Whichever, it was definitely a distraction.

The crowd (which included a lot of the under-30s everybody in the jazz intelligentsia is so exercised about) seemed to eat it up, but at the end of the set there was no encore. This struck me as odd, but then Seattle-ites are notorious for their polite equanimity.

Where ever the road leads him, Vasandani merits watching. As we passed by the autograph line on the way out, a swoony woman in her 40s standing next to the singer called out to her mortified teenage daughter, “Get over here with that camera and take my picture!”

A certain Canadian crooner whose name rhymes with “poo-flay” would do well to take note.

(Image pilfered from Mack Avenue Records.)

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Show: Sachal Vasandani at Jazz Alley - Seattle - November 11, 2009

Set list:
That Old Black Magic
Escape/There's a Small Hotel
Don't Worry About Me
Please Mr. Ogilvy
Medley: Royal Eyes/There Are Such Things/My Dear
All The Way
Ring Road (Back to You)
Monk's Dream
Every Ocean, Every Star
We Move
No More

Show: Ringo and Friends

WITH LOVE FROM ME TO YOU | Ringo Starr
Originally uploaded by talented flickr user Leo Reynolds.
Used under a Creative Commons license.

You've got to love Ringo Starr. Seriously. He insists on it. But don't worry that things will be one-sided. Oh, no. The 68-year-old former Beatle loves you right back. Seriously.

Ringo and his All Star Band brought the 2008 incarnation of the Peace & Love Tour to Chicago's Charter One Pavilion on a beautiful summer evening (last Sunday) riding a groovy wave of audience love. The concert may as well have been staged on Ringo's lawn. This was the first time I'd seen Ringo live, but I was clearly in the minority. Tee shirts from Peace & Love Tours as far back as 1999 were sported on many a proud middle-aged torso.

It's a testament to the power of Ringo's personality and reputation that he can front a band composed of people known for fronting bands and do it with such casual grace. It's not bursting any bubbles to say that Ringo is not a dynamic live performer. But he doesn't have to be. He's Ringo, after all, one of the last remnants of that golden, pre-InterWeb age of Superstardom. It's a status that he's all the more deserving of because he doesn't seem a bit concerned by it. The first song of the evening -- "It Don't Come Easy" -- could have been a gentle reminder that there was cost to being Ringo, but if so we were all too beered up and blissed out to take the hint.

It's also a testament to Ringo's self-assessment that, despite recently putting out a solo album (the nostalgia-tinged Liverpool 8 - video), he bypassed the solo tour option in favor of another All-Star expedition. Even Ringo knows that it could be hard to draw a crowd for just Ringo. Plus, why not bring your friends along for the ride?

The All-Star lineup changes from tour to tour, even from date to date. The crew I saw was comprised of Colin Hay (Men at Work) and Billy Squire ("The Stroke," etc.) on guitars; Hamish Stuart (Average White Band) on electric bass mostly; Gary Wright ("Dreamweaver") on keyboards; Edgar Winter on keyboards, percussion and sax, and Gregg Bissonette (Santana, ELO, Joe Satriani, etc.) on drums. (Ringo's Ludwig drum kit had pride of place at center stage, but he sat behind it less than half the time, generally letting the terrific Bissonette shoulder the rhythm load.)

The mix speaks to Ringo's magnanimity but it also kept what could easily have been An Evening with the Old Farts into a eclectic and satisfying musical experience. After three quick numbers with Ringo out front, ("five minutes to love me") they proceeded to "go around the band," as Ringo put it, with each performer taking the spotlight for a song before introducing someone else. Both Hay and Squire also performed solo acoustic numbers. Ringo disappeared backstage for a few numbers, presumably for a quick kip and a nice sandwich.

Colin Hay's solo show at the 300-seat Lakeshore Theater in May was a thoroughly charming and delightful experience, but his presence was muted in this larger setting where he was largely consigned to rhythm guitar. (Coincidentally, one shared theme of both that show and this one was smacktalk about Sting. Introducing "Yellow Submarine," Ringo announced, "If you don't know this song your probably at the wrong venue," adding under his breath, "you're probably here to see Sting." This was greeted by guffaws from everyone on stage.)

Although all the players were in fine form, especially for a lazy summer night, Billy Squire and Edgar Winter really stood out. I admit to not having given a thought to Billy Squire since I was in high school, so it wouldn't have occurred to me that he'd have great chops. In addition to doing great work on his spotlight numbers, he contributed solid lead guitar work on everything from rock to country to blues and even played bass on "Pick up the Pieces."

And then there was Edgar Winter, who seemed to be enjoying himself more than anybody. He's still every bit the freakazoid mystic depicted on his classic album covers, only grown more Gandalf-like with the passing years. I got the impression the rest of the band got to Chicago by plane, while Winter had dinner with Sun Ra on an astral plane and then arrived at the gig by spaceship.

Still, he proved to be an excellent sideman whether it was keyboards or one of his silver saxes. He was a little late joining the ensemble on "Who Can it Be Now?" and then got so into it that he prowled the stage like something out of Jim Henson's Creature Shop. His second turn in the spotlight, a Ringo-less "Frankenstein" (check out the video from 1973) was the evening's showstopper, provoking great jazz-like combo work from Hay, Squire and Bissonette. Ringo, returning to the stage, declared, "That's what I'm talking about!" It was indeed.

Winter goes on tour later this year in support of a new solo album, so expect to hear multiple reports of a wild-haired Wildman loose in the land.

After the 24th number ("Oh My My"), Ringo announced that rather than going back to hide in the dark ("I know it's tradition, but I just don't see the point"), the band was going to move forward with the encore. And just to keep things off balance, he called "special guest" Richard Marx to the stage to help with the obligatory "With a Little Help from My Friends." He then kicked off John Lennon's "Give Peace a Chance," which also gave him a chance to disappear back stage and presumably into a waiting limo.

Did we mind? Of course not. He's Ringo, after all.

---

Set List (Ringo lead unless otherwise noted)
It Don't Come Easy
What Goes On?
Memphis In Your Mind
Lonely is The Night (Billy Squire)
Free Ride (Edgar Winter)
Down Under (Colin Hay)
Dreamweaver (Gary Wright)
Boys
Pick Up the Pieces (Hamish Stuart)
Liverpool 8
Act Naturally
Yellow Submarine
Are You Lookin at Me? (Hay - solo)
In the Dark (Squire - solo)
Frankenstein (Winter)
Never Without You
Choose Love
The Stroke (Squire)
Work To Do (Hamish Stuart)
I Wanna Be Your Man
Love is Alive (Wright)
Who Can It Be Now? (Hay)
Photograph
Oh My My
With a Little Help from My Friends
Give Peace a Chance


IterWeb bonus
Ringo snaps at Larry King a few days before the show (for mentioning his age 12 times).

Roy Hargrove Quintet @ The Folly Theater

Notes from Saturday's concert.

Roy Hargrove didn't come to talk
Each concert on the Folly Jazz series generally begins with a "Jazz Talk," where the Folly's Doug Tatum spends a half hour making polite conversation with the headliner. At the Kenny Barron show last month, Tatum announced that Hargrove wouldn't be jazz talking. Once the band took the stage, it appeared the code of silence would be extended. Hargrove and his quintet worked their way through a delicious five-song set before the 37-year-old leader spoke into his dedicated voice microphone, introducing the band and saying they'd be back.

Hargrove and his band did come to play, however, and damn, what a show. I'm not going to pretend I recognized every tune, but the first set did include Charlie Parker's "Marmaduke" and a rendition of "My Foolish Heart" (with Hargrove on flugelhorn) that was truly transcendent. The second set was largely drawn from Hargrove's Nothing Serious CD, released last year (and well worth checking out). The capper was a barnstorming rendition of the title track. A friend tells me a called it a "rousing closer" last night. What can I say: I was roused.

Pretty much every damn band that comes to KC gets a standing ovation, but this time it was more than deserved. And the encore it provoked was as full of surprise as the rest of the night, a vocal of September In the Rain, sung and scatted by Mr. H.

Nothing says "I've finished this solo" like walking off stage
Hargrove took the stage looking every bit the leader, dressed in a sharp black suit, black shirt and grey tie. Immediately after he's finished his first solo, he turned on his heel and walked off stage. He hung out in the wings for a while and then reappeared, much to my relief. This was a taste of things to come and a testament to the portability of the brass.

I figure that since Hargrove is from Texas, he just likes to roam. Sometimes he'd move down stage and shuffle to the beat. Sometimes he chimed in on someone else's solo. When you're the leader that's your prerogative. So while the rhythm section hung out, tethered to their instruments, Hargrove and alto sax player Justin Robinson got to move freely about the stage. Robinson is less practiced at this, and drummer Montez Coleman had to holler him back to the mike for his next solo.

Again with the miked drum kit
Hargrove ensemble is made up of fresh faces, with the exception of Coleman who has been a sideman of note for years. He played on Bobby Watson's excellent Live & Learn. This was my first time seeing him play live and what a treat. That said, I still don't understand the decision to mike the drum kit, given the Folly's wonderful accoutics (even better in the balcony). I think this only contributed to the trouble at the last Folly Jazz event.

Pianist Gerald Clayton's playing was as precise and delicate as his long slender hands (and the fabric of his sweater), while bassist Joe Sanders played with an amzing combination of force and precision.

Come back anytime
In his introduction, Doug Tatum said he'd been trying to get Hargrove on the stage at the Folly for 10 years. If it takes another 10 to get him back, it will be worth the wait.