The controlled chaos and reticence of jazz: A review of the Alumni Recital

It begins with a phrase, a line, a sentence, a word, or even just simply a note, to welcome an audience into the realm that is jazz. The main theme, or ‘head’ as it’s called in jazz music, can soar across marvelous scales with various arpeggiations and descending melody lines, yet can also assume a pure, primal rhythm before taking off into the unknown minefield that is improvisation. The function of jazz is to witness and experience life’s greatest moments; these moments can only reside in one’s memory after they happen, because you’ll never hear or live them the same way again. I experienced such a moment in the Alumni Recital with Jonathan Roberds ’95 on Bass, Michael Fraclose ’04 on Drums, and Dr. Ted Conner on Guitar/Guitar Synthesizer. Before I continue I want to emphasize how amazing this recital was, and that I wish I could somehow replicate it for you now. This is not only impossible, but unbefitting of any jazz admirer. Jazz is an experience meant to be taken in at the moment it is conceived. My goal is not to describe the event, but relive it with my own interpretation: What watching the Jazz production was like for me at 2 PM on September 24, 2016.

1. Invitation

Originally composed by Bronislaw Kaper/Ned Washington, the piece begins with a smooth rhythm from the drums and a seemingly polite conversation between the bass and guitar. I stress the word ‘conversation’ as the piece passes different themes from instrument to instrument, each musician having added something to the original theme—‘invitation.’ Suddenly, in the same instant, all three instrumentalists begin to slow as if waiting, until all is silent. It isn’t until a small cue is hinted from the drums, with a slight tap on the cymbals, that bass comes fast on the downbeat of one. Confident, the bass player takes on his own improv of the original conversation with guitar and drum. His words, rather than fast ascending arpeggios and jumps up and down the neck of the instruments body, are supported by the harmonic and rhythmic elements from the drums and guitar. Once finished, the guitar jumps in with an interpretation of his own—his melody sounds more solemn and less erratic. All the while the drums calmly sustains both improvisations flawlessly.

2. Central Park West

Produced by John Coltrane, the piece begins like a slow-dance. The drums are light and guitar plays the head subdued. With him is the bass, who remains steady yet adds his own responses to the guitar’s soaring melodies. Again, they have a conversation. The guitar holds an ascending phrase, and the bass takes it and travels back down, only for the drums to respond with a rhythmic repeat of the first theme that was played by the guitar. It is soft, it is smooth; it woos and inspires.

3. Guinevere’s Dance

Written by Dr. Conner, the piece begins with the bass leading, soon followed by the drums, then joined finally by guitar. All three instrumental parts explode with sound and colorful rhythm. Though they seem in their own realms of improv, they still remain in sync with one another. Dr. Connor had composed the song for his daughter when she was small, which only added to the overall emotion brought out of the piece. With it’s syncopated rhythms and intense melodies that surf back and forth between the bass and the guitar, it is a marvel of reverberation.

4. So What

Composed by Miles Davis, the piece begins with the drums and bass having a debate of sorts. By which I mean, they converse through rhythms, and an overall swing tune is established. Soon the guitar comes in and it becomes a conversation of melodies between the guitar and bass. Similar to “Central Park West,” the theme travels between the two melodic instruments.

5. January

Also written by Dr. Conner, here the rhythms are primarily tossed from instrument to instrument. The guitar has its fast arpeggiation, the bass has its short, syncopated melody line that jumps from high up the bass’ neck to low, and the drum has its steady but loud rhythm.

6. Song for My Father

This swing-like melody was written by Horace Silver, in which rhythms are passed and interchanged from instrument to instrument. I particularly fell in love with the rhythms produced by the drummer—a soft, yet firm emphasis on beats one and two, and specific lightness on beats three and four. It was a welcomed oddity.

7. Phunk You

The final song was written by Bob Moses, and became my favorite of the night. Loud, fast, intense, emphasis on all four beats per measure prepares the audience for a long crescendo of music mixed with passion. All three instruments play the versions of the head theme at the same time, their interpretations passed from one instrument to another brilliantly. However, a particular aspect of the piece I enjoyed was the use of silence. There are moments in the piece where the sudden loud noise collapses into what seems like absolute silence. After a few seconds, music pounds from the instruments only to be silenced again. This developed another form of communication among the instrumentalists, a language of silence if you will. They had to be, and were, in perfect sync with one another. It was a truly impressive sight.

There was an encore that occurred, however, I sadly did not hear the name. The piece was beautiful and a distinct contrast to the previous “Phunk You.” It held a rather slow, swing-like essence that served as an accentuation of the overall static sensation of the jazz production. It was good ending to a wonderful recital.

Jazz is a symbol of life itself, the unknown variable to being and existing. It relies on the time, place, setting, actors, and audience members to decide how jazz is going to be performed in this particular moment. In this particular instance who is going to feel what and what feeling will it be identified as today? This is the beauty of jazz. Uncertainty, unpredictability, variability, inconsistency, and especially the risk. There is a always a risk involved in life as well as music, and nothing else proudly embraces this fact as well as jazz improv. What is this risk? Well that is the question, and we must take the chance to find it.

Photo courtesy of Lauren D. Mazur