Chautauqua at 150: Wynton Marsalis’ All Rise, on PBS

In the late 1990’s, Marsalis was at the peak of his prestige and influence. He already received the Pulitzer Prize for Blood on the Fields. With the turn of the Millennium approaching, Columbia released nine ambitious albums from Marsalis, under the banner of “Swinging into the 21^st.” None was more ambitious than All Rise, commissioned by Kurt Masur, of the New York Philharmonic, in memory of his schoolboy days under the Nazi and East German Communist regimes. Yet, it would have its concert debut shortly after 9/11. Nearly a quarter century later, Marsalis staged a concert performance at Chautauqua, during the reflective season following the brutal attack on Salman Rushdie. It also happened to be one of those big round number anniversaries. Chautauqua takes stock of itself while listening to Marsalis in Chautauqua at 150: Wynton Marsalis’ All Rise, which airs this Tuesday on PBS.

Founded in 1874, the Chautauqua Institute was a product of the Lyceum movement that survived to this day, thanks to its pleasant location and the prominent faculty and presenters it attracts. Several staffers boast the Institute fosters dialogue that encourages understanding among partisans of each other’s positions. Everyone says they learn so much, but nobody actually explains how they changed mind after listening to the other side at Chautauqua. Of course, there is a multi-faith program that talks about phobias and isms rather than human rights and freedoms. Then, on August 22, 2022, Rushdie was attacked so brutally, he spent days on a ventilator and ultimately lost an eye.

To its credit, Chautauqua at 150 spends considerable time covering the attack and its aftermath, but it declines to mention the Institution deliberately refused to implement recommended security measures for Rushdie’s address, because they thought they would “create a divide between the speakers and the audience,” as two sources explained to CNN. Frankly, Chautauqua should probably reflect even further on this incident and what it really means.

Fortunately, jazz has healing powers, so it is frustrating Chautauqua at 150 often has interview subjects talking over the music. However, the backstory of the extended suite and its post-9/11 premiere deserve the time devoted to them. It also speaks to longevity of the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestras membership since many musicians, including saxophonist Ted Nash and trumpeter Marcus Printup were with the band back in 2001 (in fact, there were with J@LC well before that). As a result, they obviously have seamless cohesion as a band and probably intuitively understand what their leader Marsalis is looking for.

International Jazz Day 10th Anniversary Celebration, on PBS

When thinking about International Jazz Day, it is tempting to channel the old parental response regarding a prospective Children’s Day and say every other day of the year is Top 40 Pop Day. Yet, that business has been in freefall for years (it hardly makes sense to call it “popular” anymore). We could also say at least jazz has its day. Those blues musicians don’t even have an International Blues Hour. Of course, this year’s annual celebration must be less festive, for obvious reasons. In lieu of public events, they have compiled concert highlights from past years in International Jazz Day 10^th Anniversary Celebration, co-executive-produced by Herbie Hancock, which premieres tomorrow night on PBS.

For their galas, IJD often recruited big crossover names for all-star concerts. Sometimes it works great, other times it is just okay. Annie Lennox is one of the better special guests, probably because she has a comfort level with jazz standards, as she demonstrated with her Nostalgia album and concert special. Once again, she tears into “I Put a Spell on You.”

Wynton Marsalis similarly plays to his strength with a stark, muted-yet-still-potently bluesy “St. James Infirmary, with Danilo Perez on piano and on bass, Christian McBride (who keeps popping up in groups throughout the anniversary special). We have to give similar credit to Tony Bennett, who delivers a simple but heartfelt-sounding rendition of “Lost in the Stars.”

Among the big crossover spotlight features, Aretha Franklin (who started out in jazz) sounds soulful on “A Song for You,” but the arrangement is not so memorable. Likewise, it is hard to hear the distinctive musical personalities of the likes of Hancock, Pat Metheny, Robert Glasper, and Lionel Loueke on Sting’s “Sister Moon.”

On the other hand, there are some excellent collaborations between jazz and world music artists. Perhaps the highpoint of the special is “Lotus Feet,” performed by the trio of John McLaughlin, Jean-Luc Ponty, and tabla player Zakir Hussain. Also notable are Hugh Masekela’s “Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela),” with Mino Cinelu; Wayne Shorter’s “Sabba Hayastan Dance,” featuring Dhafer Youssef on oud; and Dianne Reeves singing “Tango” with a group of Turkish and Eastern musicians.

For traditional fans, Kurt Elling nicely swings “As Long as You’re Living,” which is a perfect fit for his cool, hipster voice. Those in the mood for something more soulful will appreciate Gregory Porter backed by John Scofield and Kris Bowers on “Liquid Spirit.” Frankly, the show should have ended with the funky and swampy “Dynamite,” featuring New Orleans’ own Jon Cleary and Terence Blanchard. Instead, they go with an all-star hodge-podge of Lennon’s “Imagine.” It is a maudlin, over-rated tune, but Elling, Somi, and Lizz Wright liven it up admirably.

Tribeca ’15: Song of Lahore

There have been many notable fusions of jazz and South Asian musical forms over the years, such as Buddy Rich’s percussion duets with Alla Rakha and the Indo-Jazz Fusion double quintet co-led by Joe Harriott and John Mayer. However, the impetus for such explorations typically started on the jazz side. The traditional musicians of Pakistan’s Sachal Studios are a different case entirely. They decided to experiment with jazz forms and they did it at a time when simply being a musician could get them killed in Islamist Pakistan. Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy & Andy Schocken chronicle their unlikely collaboration with Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra in Song of Lahore, which screens during the 2015 Tribeca Film Festival.

In Taliban infested Pakistan, culture of any sort is largely prohibited. It was not always so. The Sachal Studio musicians represent a long line of artists, stretching back to the time when Lahore was a renowned center of music. Things were bad under the Zia regime, improved somewhat after his fall, but became even more dangerous in recent years. Identifying the need for a safe creative outlet, Izzat Majeed secretly opened Sachar Studios.

Finally, Pakistani musicians had a place to play together. With their chops rebounding, Majeed challenges them to tackle American style jazz, hoping it will broaden their potential base of listeners. The idea that the commercial popularity of jazz looks enviable to Pakistani musicians is a pretty depressing thought. Nevertheless there are kinships between the two musical traditions, most notably the improvisational ethos.

Of course, one of the bestselling jazz records of all time was Dave Brubeck’s Time Out, featuring his classic rendition of “Take Five.” When the Sachar Studio posts a video of the ambitious arrangement of “Take Five” on youtube, its viral appeal quickly surpasses their expectations. Soon, they are invited to play a special concert at Jazz at Lincoln Center. However, melding the two ensembles will be a tricky proposition.

Wow, it is simultaneously inspiring and horrifying to see musicians risking everything to play jazz. Indeed, Song leaves little doubt jazz is the music of freedom, giving a deserved shout out to the U.S. State Department’s Jazz Ambassadors program of the 1960s. Longtime fans and patrons will also find it cool to see J@LC mainstays like Ron Westray, Victor Goines, Ryan Kisor, and Joe Temperley on the big screen. However, not to be pedantic, but the frequent references to “Dave Brubeck’s Take Five” get a little irksome. Actually, Paul Desmond, a longtime Brubeck band-member and leader in his own right, composed “Take Five” and his alto solo (along with Joe Morello’s classic drum solo) helped make it so enduringly popular.

Regardless, Obaid-Chinoy & Schocken show a fine general understanding of the music and appreciate it enough to let us hear some of the performances in their entirety. Ellington’s “Limbo Jazz” is an especially hospitable vehicle for the combined group’s improvisations.

Song of Lahore does something that is almost impossible. It gives viewers a faint glimmer of hope for the future of Pakistan. It also features some wonderfully swinging and sophisticated music. Highly recommended, Song of Lahore screens again today (4/23), as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Ken Burns Goes Original Gangster: Prohibition

They thought if Prohibition could make it here in New York, it could make it anywhere. Well, it didn’t. The combination of some of the hottest night life, wettest politicians, a large immigrant population, and close proximity to the Canadian border and Long Island Sound made enforcement more or less impossible. Ken Burns and his filmmaking partner Lynn Novick bring their flair for assembling archival material to bear on America’s misadventure with temperance in Prohibition (promo here), which airs three consecutive nights on PBS, beginning this coming Sunday.

Perhaps the best installment of Prohibition is the first, A Nation of Drunkards, in which a number of preconceptions about the prohibition movement are challenged. In the years leading up to the 19th Amendment, consumption of hard liquor was far greater in America than it is now. Evidently, public drunkenness was a genuine social problem that attracted the notice of the reform movement. Indeed, more than a religious phenomenon, prohibition was initially aligned with progressives and the suffragette women’s movement.

Perhaps most tragically, “dry” activists provided decisive support for the 16th Amendment establishing the federal income tax. Until then, the U.S. government had been overwhelmingly dependent on liquor taxes to fund its operations. Unfortunately, it would not be repealed by the 21st Amendment, along with the notorious 19th it helped bring about.

Burns and Novick’s Prohibition is also quite adept at capturing the colorful character of several notorious bootleggers, who sprang up in the tradition of old western gun-slingers. Though Al Capone got the most ink (which was always how he wanted it), the example of former Seattle copper turned gangster Roy Olmstead might arguably be more significant. Eventually taken down through wiretaps, his case launched a branch of Constitutional law still debated to this day.

Unfortunately, the talking head segments are a tad weak this time around for Burns and Novick. Should you have a drink every time the audience is told we cannot legislate morality, you would be very wet indeed. Presumably, this means they also advocate repealing every morally motivated reform from the Progressive Era, perhaps starting with child labor laws.

Commentators who suggest there are often unintended consequences to government regulation are rather more on target. Yet, there do seem to be concrete lessons to be learned from the Dry interregnum that Prohibition the film prefers not to belabor. For instance, we learn the brewers tried to throw the distillers under the bus rather stand united against the increasingly militant temperance movement. For their efforts, they got the absolutist Volstead Act, putting everyone out of business, at least temporarily.

Once again, Wynton Marsalis provides an original era-appropriate jazz score that evokes the free-wheeling spirit of the speakeasy milieu. However, the rich voice of Keith David, the narrator of Jazz and Unforgivable Blackness, is definitely missed in Prohibition. Frankly, lead narrator Peter Coyote sounds rather dry (so to speak), by comparison.

Combining striking images, good history, entertaining music, and so-so social commentary, Prohibition is PBS’s marquee event of the season. A finely crafted production, it is definitely well worth watching (though perhaps with a bit of Tivo fast-forwarding). It airs back-to-back-to-back this Sunday through Tuesday (10/2-10/4) on just about every PBS outlet nationwide.

(Photo ©Scherl/Sueddeutsche Zeitung/The Image Works)

Birth of a Legend: Louis

Louis Armstrong is the quintessential musical Horatio Alger story. Though not born on the 4th of July as he believed, Armstrong undeniably came from mean circumstances. A child of New Orleans’ Storyville red light district, Armstrong received quite an education in life at a tender age. Those early formative years are stylishly dramatized in Dan Priztker’s Louis (trailer here), retro-silent film to be presented Monday the 30th in New York with a live soundtrack accompaniment performed by composer Wynton Marsalis, classical pianist Cecile Licard, and a 10-piece small big band (almost entirely consisting of Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra alumnus).

Though Armstrong’s memoirs largely sanitize his childhood, it is generally accepted that from time to time, his mother engaged in the work Storyville was infamous for. Louis dispenses with euphemisms, taking viewers inside the venerable bordellos of New Orleans (hence the R rating). A worldly tyke, young Armstrong already has a crush on one of the working girls, Grace, a local near-celebrity who has just made her triumphant return to the Crescent City and the world’s oldest profession. Unfortunately, the thoroughly corrupt but politically ambitious Judge Perry also has eyes for Grace in an exploitative Jim Crow kind of way. Ironically, since the six year-old Armstrong is essentially invisible to Perry and his cronies, he finds ample snooping opportunities as he tries to foil the crooked jurist’s plans for Grace.

As one would expect given it carries the Wynton Marsalis seal of approval, Louis definitely gets its jazz correct. Mixing Marsalis originals with the compositions of Jewish-Creole classical composer L.M. Gottschalk, the film-concert experience definitely captures the sound of early Twentieth Century New Orleans. Indeed, Marsalis’ portions of the soundtrack are similar in tone to his music for Ken Burns’ Jack Johnson documentary, Unforgivable Blackness. While clearly inspired by Armstrong, there is also the hint of an Ellington influence, which echoes throughout Marsalis’ music.

Louis might look as good as it sounds thanks to Vilmos Zsigmond, the celebrated Hungarian cinematographer who defected shortly after the 1956 Soviet invasion. Indeed, his use of black-and-white with sepia color tints gives the film a vibrant yet sophisticated look. To his credit, rock musician turned jazz movie director Pritzker also shows an intuitive flair for camera movement, nicely conveying the earthy energy of its setting.

Despite its lack of dialogue (aside from periodic inter-titles) Louis had at least four credited screenwriters, including Pritzker. While their story arc is fairly simple, they add some nice period touches, like appearances from Buddy Bolden, the never-recorded cornetist considered the original jazz musician. The film also cleverly shoehorns real incidents in Armstrong’s life, including the circumstances that sent him to the so-called Colored Waifs’ Home, where he providentially joined the marching band, ultimately setting in motion a career as the most significant and influential musician in American history.

Bearing a strong likeness to the young Armstrong, charismatic Anthony Coleman also hints at the familiar Satchmo mannerisms fairly well, without descending into caricature. Deliberately resembling Chaplin (albeit in his later years) Jackie Earle Haley is strangely effective as Judge Perry, mixing in some surprising pathos with his physical comedy and scenery chewing villainy.

Louis is one of the better jazz films produced in recent years that will surely be even more rewarding with the live in-theater soundtrack performance. Though Marsalis might be controversial in some jazz circles for his perceived aesthetic conservatism, he is an energizing soloist with a charming stage presence and a golden trumpet tone. It’s a great band too. Known for excelling on gutbucket blues, trombonist Wycliffe “Pinecone” Gordon should have a particularly strong affinity for the material, having composed his own soundtracks for silent films. Affectionately recommended, the Louis tour starts Wednesday August 25th in Chicago, reaching New York’s Apollo Theater Monday (8/30).

Wynton on He and She

He and She
By Wynton Marsalis
Blue Note Records

Wynton Marsalis might be a controversial figure on the jazz scene, but in live performances, he sure can turn on the charisma. Yet, for all the excellent recordings in his discography, that winning stage personality has never truly been captured, but at least his latest release gives listeners a taste of it. Featuring his spoken word odes to young love, Marsalis’s He and She is a real charmer.

When listening to the so-called “poems,” Marsalis’s spoken word interludes that preface each tune on He and She, it is clear why the trumpeter has been such a successful fundraiser for Jazz at Lincoln Center. The man has a gift for sweet talk. Unlike much jazz and spoken word fusions, his poems and his admittedly syrupy delivery have an eccentric appeal that, I would fearlessly argue, hold up surprisingly well to repeatedly listening (and if you disagree, you can simply program out those tracks).

As for his music, it has an undeniable charm, starting with “School Boy,” which digs deep into the New Orleans tradition, even featuring some old school ragging from pianist Dan Nimmer and Walter Blanding communing with his inner Sidney Bechet on soprano sax. While true to his Neo-classicism, eschewing experimentation for its own sake, Marsalis’s compositions on He and She still sound consistently fresh and dynamic, like the aptly titled “Sassy.” The playful piece, again featuring Blandings on soprano, nicely brings out Marsalis’s musical wit.

Perhaps the set’s most intriguing piece though, especially given Marsalis’s well-known aesthetic philosophy, is the so-called free composition “Fear.” While “free” might be overstating things, it is certainly moody and relatively abstract, effectively driven by Carlos Henriquez’s bass, before resolving into a safely melodic coda.

The centerpiece of He and She is a suite of firsts: “First Crush,” “First Kiss,” “First Slow Dance,” and “First Time.” While essentially a brief prelude, “Crush” still demonstrates both Marsalis’s brilliant technique, as well as his lyrical sensitivity on romantic ballads. It segues seamlessly into the dreamy “Slow Dance,” featuring an elegantly fluid solo from Nimmer. “Kiss,” another waltz, is more conversational, with Marsalis making his case through his mute. The pay-off comes on “First Time” a passionate Danzón that builds to an exuberant climax (so to speak), making it the standout track of the disk.

The music of He and She concludes where it all began—with the blues. “A Train, A Banjo, a Chicken Wing” provides a vehicle for some lusty tenor work from Blandings and some tasty gut-bucket plunger work from the composer, before he recaps all the spoken word bits in one complete “poem.”

He and She is probably Marsalis’s strongest release since he has signed with Blue Note. Love or hate his spoken word recitations, he is playing remains as strong as ever. His band also performs with verve and his originals sparkle in their inspired hands. As a result, He and She is quite a rewarding release that should particularly appeal to his considerable fans, who are likely to be more receptive to his vocal interjections, if only to hear an echo of that great stage presence.

PBS Stomps Off Holiday Jazz

Whenever PBS broadcasts jazz programming, I have to give it breaking news treatment. After all, I have been critical of the network for using Ken Burns Jazz series as a carrot during pledge drives, and then failing to deliver regular jazz programming throughout the rest of the year (terms like “bait and switch” may have been bandied about). So PBS definitely deserves credit for broadcasting Wynton Marsalis and members of the J@LC band live from their home in the House of Swing (Rose Hall at the Time Warner Center) in Red Hot Holiday Stomp, as part of the Live from Lincoln Center series.

The first half of the program was a well conceived set consisting largely of swinging versions of holiday favorites. Literally everyone loves jazz Christmas music, but a lot of folks just do not realize it. After all, jazz musician Vince Guaraldi was responsible the beloved music of the ever-popular A Charlie Brown Christmas. Here Marsalis and company run through some crowd pleasing Christmas standards like “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” “Carol of the Bells,” “Santa Clause is Coming to Town,” and what Marsalis called “that old Christmas favorite:” “Sheik of Araby.”

If not revolutionary, there were some very entertaining solos, especially from Wessel “Warmdaddy” Anderson on alto and Wycliffe “Pinecone” Gordon on trombone—it is great to hear them back in the band. “Sweet Papa” Don Vappie, who according to Marsalis “got up out of his sick bed to come out here tonight,” probably supplied the highlight of the set with his soulful vocal on “Blue Christmas.”

The second half of the set was made up of “Music, Deep Rivers in My Soul,” a musical collaboration between Marsalis and poet Maya Angelou. S. Epatha Merkerson conveyed strength and warmth in her delivery of Angelou’s words, but the text itself seemed slight compared to the heft of Marsalis’s major works on similar themes, like Blood on the Fields, Congo Square, and In This House on This Morning. Though impressive, the energy of Jared Grimes accompanying tap dancing is probably best experienced live, and was not well served by the camera work last night. Again, the band acquitted itself well. In particular, Ali Jackson’s concluding drum solo was a perfect conclusion, showing wit and dexterity, rather than bombast.

Surprisingly, the typically witty Marsalis did not bring his A game for between-tune banter, but the only really embarrassing aspect of the broadcast was Glenn Close’s gushy “interview” with Marsalis. If you can forget that, which should not be hard to do, it was entertaining showcase of what J@LC does best. (Look for it if your local affiliate did not carry it live last night.) Even if you are not down with Marsalis and his conceptions of jazz, this is great band. It has most of what I consider their classic line-up from the late 1990’s, with fantastic musicians, like Anderson, Gordon, Joe Temperly, Victor Goines, Ron Westray, and of course Marsalis himself, making Holiday Stomp a solid, if all too infrequent, jazz feature on Public Television.

Citizen Wynton

There is no more cutting insult for Marsalis than the word “minstrelsy.” He applies it repeatedly to hip-hop culture in an interview with Bill Milkowski in the April Jazz Times. With From the Plantation to the Penitentiary, his most explicitly political CD in several years releasing this week, Marsalis is front-and-center in the jazz magazines.

Despite the feature stories, the reviews of Penitentiary, have been mixed (JT) to negative (DB). The lyrics Marsalis wrote, particularly his rap on “Where Y’All At?” have been particularly panned. It is an ironic turn, given the controversial response to Marsalis’ frequent criticisms of hip-hop for its vulgarity and misogyny. When Milkowski compares him to Cosby, Marsalis responds: “I was speaking out about it long before Bill Cosby.”

Marsalis seems to be a sort of Rorschach for jazz fans. They either see everything they like or dislike about the music embodied in the trumpeter. His detractors label him a neo-conservative, for his neo-classical approach to the jazz canon. In a separate JT review of the disc, Geoffrey Himes writes: “Marsalis sounds downright Republican when he attacks taxes, ‘modern-day minstrels’ and womb-vanquished dreams.’” This seems to overstate matters in what is an overall evenhanded review, particularly given the “Supercapitalism” track critiquing consumerist society.

On the subject of rebuilding his hometown, Marsalis is bluntly outspoken, yet more nuanced than one might expect. When given a cue to bash Pres. Bush, does not bite as hard as one might expect, telling Milkowski:

“it doesn’t really make a difference what party is in control. Like I said, ‘It don’t make a difference if it’s the left or the right/They’ll both get together and make your pocket light.’ Who do you want to rob you? It’s not like there’s been a big cry from the Democrats to get New Orleans right.”

Perhaps this political agnosticism is why many critics have not embraced Penitentiary and his jujitsu-like attempt to use the rap which he has scorned for years. Marsalis has never sugar-coated his opinions, so some seem to have a knee-jerk reaction to him. It is hard to argue when he blasts hip-hop for sexually objectifying women and deriding the benefits of education. Those who take issue with his every utterance seem to be harkening back to past arguments over the validity of Miles Davis’ electric years.

There is no question Marsalis is an enormously talented musician. There is also no denying he can be curtly dismissive of the styles he does not embrace, but even his harshest critics will give him credit for his educational outreach efforts. After his meteoric rise and his establishment of J@LC, Marsalis is probably the only jazz musician today for whom one name is sufficient with the general public—Wynton, like Miles. The second act of his career will probably be defined by his efforts on behalf of post-Katrina New Orleans, and may yet bring the inkblots into sharp focus.

(An ironic post to go up a day after giving credit to OutKast’s Idlewild. I can’t speak to their CDs, but the film did not have anymore adult language or sexuality than the average Hollywood release. The violence is actually presented in a moral context and the film concludes with a major character choosing his family obligations over the fast life. Whether Marsalis would enjoy the film, I would not want to guess and be wrong.)

Accent on the Offbeat

Accent on the Offbeat
Featuring Wynton Marsalis and Peter Martins
Kultur

Wynton Marsalis has been criticized for bringing a classical oriented repertory conception to jazz as artistic director of Jazz @ Lincoln Center. His ambitious commissions from major cultural institutions have fueled that perception of elitism and most likely not a small degree of professional envy. Accent on the Offbeat chronicles the making of one such commission, Jazz (Six Syncopated Movements) a collaboration between Marsalis and chorographer Peter Martins of the New York City ballet.

Marsalis is heard early in the film explaining the original conception:

“When we first met he said he wanted the ballet to be about American life, and that’s very easy for jazz musicians because that’s what our music is about. And the jazz musicians have never had to try to escape being American by genuflecting to deeply towards Europe or any of that. Our music is constructed from the American vernacular musics.”

Marsalis and Martins are seen as vastly different personalities. Of the two, Marsalis clearly comes off better. At first, Martins cannot seem to decide if he can deal with Marsalis’ music, or if he even likes it. When he finally starts working with it, Martins comes off as a demanding high art type, with a sizeable ego. Later, seeing Martins schmooze with Henry Kissinger in the makeup room before he and Marsalis appear on Charlie Rose will probably set a lot of teeth on edge, across a wide political spectrum.

For his part, Marsalis appears to be the one trying to make it work, well served by his laid back jazzman’s persona. When copyist Ron Carbo asks about a change Martins wanted, Marsalis slyly replies: “I’ll just play the first phrase and do a lot of smiling just giving him the impression that I’m doing what he wants me to do.” Marsalis later puts things in perspective for Carbo saying: “like my daddy always told me, learn how to work a job.”

Marsalis had a tremendous ensemble for the project, including J@LC stalwarts Herlin Riley, Victor Goines, Wessell “Warmdaddy” Anderson, as well as Wycliffe Gordon and Todd Williams, who have since left the Marsalis/J@LC band. Accent focuses on the rehearsals, so not all of the music is heard in its final, polished form. However, enough of the movements are heard to give viewers a good taste. Accent concludes with performances of two movements, starting with “‘D’ in the Key of ‘F’ (Now the Blues),” a beautiful feature for Anderson’s alto and Williams’ tenor. The jaunty “Ragtime” is also seen with its final choreography (and heard over the menu screen), showcasing Goines on clarinet and Eric Reed on piano, before Marsalis and the brass come in for some rollicking ensemble passages.

Martins’ publicist might not be happy with Accent, but give the New York City ballet its proper due. The dancers are very talented, and sound quite enthusiastic in interview segments. Accent is a consistently interesting behind-the scenes look at a major cultural production. It also very well photographed, looking great for a so-called “vérité” film. The music is available in its entirety on Marsalis’ Jump Start and Jazz.

Marsalis is frequently caricatured as argumentative and opinionated. Accent presents a different, nuanced perspective on a very public artist.