January 5, 2007

Marsalis Toasts a Key Mentor
By Will Friedwald, New York Sun

There are so many darn Marsalis brothers, it's difficult to keep track of them. What with Branford running an important record label and Wynton guiding Jazz at Lincoln Center (in addition to their ongoing careers as players), credit must be given to the two younger brothers, the trombonist Delfeayo (born in 1965) and drummer Jason (1977), for not trying to match their older siblings in world-beating accomplishments. Delfeayo and Jason, who are appearing this week at the Blue Note, keep a lower profile, working mostly as sidemen; Delfeayo has maintained a more active career as producer for his older brothers and a host of other New Orleans modernists in the Marsalis extended family.

Indeed, far from pushing himself as a leader and star, Delfeayo waited four years before touring in support of his third and best album, "Minions Dominion," which he recorded in January 2002 and released just a few months ago. In keeping with that theme, the program he is playing through Sunday at the Blue Note includes only two tunes and none of the musicians from the new album. Rather, this is a tribute to one of his key mentors, the late drummer and bandleader Elvin Jones, who plays on "Minions Dominion," in what turned out to be one of his final recordings (he died in 2004). Instead of using the band from the album (including the alto saxist Donald Harrison, the pianist Mulgrew Miller, and brother Branford on tenor), Mr. Marsalis has assembled an outstanding quintet co-starring fellow veterans from Jones's later groups; the only member of the Marsalis Quintet who never played with Elvin Jones, naturally, is the group's drummer, Jason Marsalis.

As a trombone soloist, Mr. Marsalis doesn't quite have the distinctive tone or matchless intonation of Steve Turre or Wycliffe Gordon (perhaps the industry leaders on the instrument), but he has a pleasing timbre and embraces both the tricky, fast runs of the beboppers and the blurry, warm vibrato of the earlier swing and traditional players. The most head-turning player in the group is the tenor saxophonist Mark Shim, who has a big, forceful sound that put me in mind of such power players as Johnny Griffin, Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, and a young Sonny Rollins.

Tuesday's 75-minute set consisted of a mere four tunes, beginning with two variations on the blues, the first of which was the bright, bouncy opener "B'rer Rabbit." Here, the trombone-tenor frontline was especially reminiscent of the early days of the Jazz Crusaders and their early signature "The Young Rabbits."

" The Lone Warrior," dedicated to the late Jones, was a more ambitious piece that moved in and out of minor, combining 12-bar sections with an eight-bar bridge. The pianist Anthony Wonsey was especially compelling on the first, laying down a series of seemingly random, discordant phrases that ran against the beat yet somehow hung together in a coherent solo.

Mr. Marsalis's most attractive piece was, conversely, Mr. Shim's least. This was the Louis Armstrong hit, "What a Wonderful World," dedicated to the memory of Jones, who, Mr. Marsalis says, was a Satchmo maven and encouraged his young sidemen to study all the iconic jazzmen. (In the notes accompanying "Minions Dominion," Mr. Marsalis relates a Jones anecdote involving Armstrong 's coming to hear John Coltrane's Classic Quartet with Jones in Chicago.) Mr. Marsalis played the melody slowly, with lots of feeling, and Mr. Shim supported him with choir-like tonic notes; yet when it came time for his own solo, Mr. Shim played with all the fury of one of the faster pieces, only slower; it was as if he was doggedly refusing to let himself be sentimental, or even lyrical.

The opening set climaxed with an extra-long tour de force for Delfeayo's skills as arranger: "Doll of the Bride," dedicated to Jones's widow, the Japanese-born Keiko Jones. The treatment of a traditional Japanese theme ( Mr. Marsalis explored his interest in that culture on his second album, 1998's "Musashi") began with a long, ad-lib intro by Mr. Wonsey, followed by a dramatic percussion interlude in which Jason Marsalis employed mallets to suggest the sound of the taiko, the leviathanic Japanese ceremonial drum.

The first statement of melody, phrased in unison by trombone and tenor, suggested the opening of a Shinto temple gate - yet somehow also reminded me of the Russian Army theme, "Meadowlands." Everyone soloed on this epic miniseries of a work, including the bassist Gerald Cannon, who played unaccompanied. Mr. Shim was in fine form here, conveying much excitement and anguish without resorting to either the high or low ends of his tenor range, as most saxists would, yet playing with so much energy that he clearly didn't care whom he blew off the bandstand.

The quintet wound up with a brief run-through of "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)," played under announcements like a theme song, which Mr. Marsalis ended by grunting on a pedal note. These five well-dressed young men, who look serious even when they're smiling, still know how to have a good time.

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