PRESS

October 6, 2005

This Trombonist Doesn't Need a Lot of Notes
By Nate Chinen, The New York Times

Delfeayo Marsalis began his six-night run at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola on Tuesday with something he introduced as "one of the greatest tunes ever written." It was "C-Jam Blues," from the Duke Ellington songbook: a laconic riff piece, based on a single interval. It's a masterwork, Mr. Marsalis explained, "because it uses the least amount of notes of any song."

That playfully reductive philosophy goes a long way toward explaining Mr. Marsalis, a first-rate trombonist with a bewilderingly low-key solo career. For 20 years, he has worked extensively as a producer and sideman with artists like the drummer Elvin Jones, the singer Ruth Brown and every musical member of his family. But in all that time, he has issued only two albums as a leader, the last one nearly a decade ago. Considering the prolific output of his older brothers, Branford and Wynton, it's a shockingly minimalist oeuvre.

Perhaps accordingly, Mr. Marsalis's first set took awhile to gather steam. He counted off "C-Jam Blues" at an ambling medium tempo, giving the impression of a warm-up routine. Then, on the Frank Loesser standard "If I Were a Bell," he struck a jaunty tone that recalled the J. J. Johnson-Kai Winding records of the 1950's; the band grew noticeably looser as the song jogged along.

The turning point was "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?" Mr. Marsalis articulated his hometown lament with aching restraint, leaving coloristic touches to the pianist Mulgrew Miller. This had a poignant effect on the tune, which can be lugubrious in the wrong hands; Mr. Miller and Mr. Marsalis made it beautifully somber. The alto saxophonist Donald Harrison, another product of New Orleans, followed suit with an improvisation full of weighty silences and purposeful gusts. By the time Mr. Miller finished his solo - a garland of feathery block chords, fleet arpeggios, and bluesy intimations - it was clear that the bar had been raised.

It stayed high for "Pontius Pilate's Decision," the title cut from Mr. Marsalis's first album. As barnburners go, it's a typical Marsalis family exertion: modal and emphatic, with an urgent bass ostinato and a shifting rhythmic center. So the bassist Delbert Felix and the drummer Ralph Peterson charged to the forefront with a powerfully polyrhythmic roil that provoked fervent solos from the horns. Then they dropped out abruptly to accommodate Mr. Miller, who crafted a deftly modern abstraction that shimmered a few moments before plunging back into tempo.

Mr. Miller was unerringly brilliant throughout the set. He was perhaps most striking as an accompanist, spontaneously reshaping the moods and contours of the songs; in a duet with Mr. Marsalis on "What a Wonderful World," he managed a reharmonization that undercut the saccharine with subtle ambiguities. Among the many reasons to anticipate Mr. Marsalis's next album, "Minion's Dominion," due in 2006, is that Mr. Miller is on it, meeting the trombonist with graceful and sensible actions.

The quintet plays through Sunday at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola, Jazz at Lincoln Center, www.jalc.org.



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