In Concert at the Hollywood Bowl: The Jazz Installment

The Hollywood Bowl is an open-air venue, but not open enough to save the 2020 season. (Thanks again Xi, and have fun partying in Davos.) Fortunately, a number of significant musicians were recorded live-in-performance at the iconic concert hall, so the L.A. Phil had plenty of footage to chose from when their new “in concert” series. Jazz gets its own episode, rather fittingly considering Norman Granz set a Bowl attendance record at the time in 1956 with one of his “Jazz at the Philharmonic” all-star revues. They have also programmed some good stuff in recent years, some of which is collected in In Concert at the Hollywood Bowl: Jazz at the Hollywood Bowl, which premieres Friday on PBS. (By the way, you get the idea that this was recorded at the Hollywood Bowl, right?)

The way Chucho Valdes plays, they really should have saved him to close the program, but hey, we’ll take him whenever. The Afro-Cuban jazz pianist’s rendition of “Bebo,” dedicated to his father Bebo Valdes, is nearly as awesome as his performances in Calle 54 (that means it’s very awesome). It could also be an infectious introduction to Afro-Cuban percussion for some tragically sheltered viewers.

Fans should then be delighted to see and hear Dianne Reeves (the L.A. Phil’s first creative jazz chair) performing “She Walks the Earth” with Brazilian keyboard player Ivan Lins. It is a characteristically elegant and sophisticated, but still very swinging performance. (Frankly, she really should have recorded more since moving from Blue Note to Concord—and given how closely we associate her with the former label’s relaunch, it is hard to fathom how they let her go.)

Kamasi Washington’s “Truth” is another highlight that could surprise a lot of PBS-watching jazz novices with its wonderful colors and textures. Washington shares aesthetic kinships with vintage Coltrane and even Eddie Gale, but a tune like this is also more melodic and therefore more accessible.

The Phil’s maestro Gustavo Dudamel gives vocalist Cecile McLorin Salvant an unfairly intimidating intro, comparing her to Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, but then she exhibits a unique delivery style on “Something’s Coming” from West Side Story. It is also nice to see Aaron Diehl’s trio backing her.

Bassist Christian McBride (the Phil’s 2^nd jazz chair) leads his big band and vocalist Jose James through a brisk, brassy, bluesy, and scatty take on Bobby Timmons’ “Moanin,’” best remembered from the Lee Morgan-era Messengers’ classic recording. It has a solid, toe-tapping vibe, even if you can’t help comparing it to the Blakey original.

Tribeca ’17: Clive Davis the Soundtrack of Our Lives

He is the record executive who finally figured out how to get the Grateful Dead, the original jam band, on the singles chart. Clive Davis also signed a few of his own discoveries you might remember, like Whitney Houston and Alicia Keys. Frankly, just signing Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company to Columbia Records pretty much guaranteed him a place in the music industry history books. It is hard not to take a “gee whiz” approach to Davis’s career, so Chris Perkel doesn’t even try throughout the briskly nostalgic Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives, the opening night film of the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival.

Originally recruited for Columbia/CBS’s legal department, Davis was elevated to head the music department almost (if not entirely) by accident. However, once he was there, he quickly learned to trust his ears and instincts. Liberating the label from influential A&R man (and sing-along bandleader) Mitch Miller’s anti-rock biases, Davis signed acts like Joplin, Santana, Chicago, Aerosmith, and Bruce Springsteen, many of whom panned out over time.

Despite making pots of money for Columbia, Davis was forced out after a manufactured payola scandal broke in the media (at least that is Team Clive’s side of the story and Perkel never questions it). Of course, he landed on his feet, founding Arista, a new record label subsidiary for Columbia Pictures (no relation to his former employer) nearly from scratch. His signings were eclectic (Barry Manilow, Aretha Franklin, Gil Scott-Heron, and The Dead), but almost uniformly successful. Perversely, history would repeat itself when Davis was forced out at the peak of Arista’s commercial performance, for apparent reasons of ageism. Yet, Davis would again have the last laugh at J Records.

Let’s be honest, if you want to make a documentary about someone with Davis’s level of industry power and secure the participation of artists such as Springsteen, Bob Weir, Patti Smith, Cissy Houston, Carlos Santana, Simon and Garfunkle (separately, not together) as well as collaborators like Gamble & Huff and Simon Cowell, by airing a lot of dirty laundry. However, from a viewer’s perspective, the perfunctory and defensive treatment of the Columbia/CBS scandal raises more suspicions than it dismisses.

Still, it is tough to beat Davis’s career retrospective for its nostalgia value. It is kind of mind-blowing Davis launched Whitney Houston’s career on the Merv Griffin Show, but Perkel has the video to prove it. Or how about digging “[Have You Heard from] Johannesburg,” perhaps the grooviest, swingingest protest song ever, from Scott-Heron, whom Davis rightly credits as the original rapper?  Remember when American Idol was a big deal? It was Davis’s J Records that immediately whisked the winners into the studio.

At least Perkel deals forthrightly with Whitney Houston’s very tragic and public meltdown. On the other hand, he spends a disproportionate about of time on Davis’s saccharine creation, Kenny G, which will tarnish his image with a lot of hipper viewers. Still, you have to give Davis credit for his willingness to back comeback vehicles for past chart-toppers, like Rod Stewart’s American Songbook releases and Santana’s Smooth.

Throughout it all, the smiling Davis reminisces about his career highlights, going back to when he signed Moses to read the stone tablets he found on Mount Sinai for a spoken word album. It is definitely a fannish film, but with war stories like this, Perkel largely gets away with it. Recommended as an insidery history of pop music from 1967 to pretty much right now, Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives screens again tonight (4/21) and Sunday (4/23), during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Hymns for Montreux

Hymns for Peace: Live at Montreux 2004
Santana and musical dignitaries
Eagle Eye Media 2 DVD-set

Periodically Carlos Santana has recorded strongly jazz-influenced sessions that bewilder his fans, like the classic Love Surrender Devotion with John McLaughlin covering jazz standards like “A Love Supreme.” Santana has also earned the ire of free Cubans, like Paquito D'Rivera, for his Che fetish, particularly for his wardrobe choice of Che t-shirt and crucifix, which clash worse than stripes and plaids. So when he puts together an all-star group to perform Hymns for Peace at the Montreux Jazz Festival, there is equal opportunity for high and low points.

Fortunately, during the set Santana largely eschews political statements (or they were wisely edited out), aside from an obligatory Pres. Bush snipe preceding “A Love Supreme,” of all possible tunes. Much more interesting is the actual music and Santana’s invited guests, including McLaughlin, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Ravi Coltrane, and Chick Corea.

Some of the best solo work actually comes from Coltrane. The fact that he is willing to even stand on stage for “Afro Blue” and “A Love Supreme” is impressive, let alone solo well—which he does. Shorter also adds fire to the Mongo Santamaría standard, but “Love” is actually marred by an overly vocal arrangement. Coltrane’s best feature though is on “Light At the Edge of the World,” which he carries beautifully.

Some of Santana’s song selections were inspired, as Marley’s “Redemption Song” proved a pitch-perfect match for Angelique Kidjo. While it may not have the strongest thematic relationship to the concert program, Barbara Morrison’s rendition of “Just Like a Woman” is also a real standout. However, some choices just did not work, like “The Banana Boat Song.” Though it sounds a bit corny, closing with the Choeur de Riviera singing “Ode to Joy” actually sort of works for its ambition.

In between, there are some nice solos, particularly from Coltrane and McLaughlin, covering pop standards from Dylan and Marley, and jazz classics, like Joe Zawinul’s “In a Silent Way.” Probably the best balance between soloist and vocalist came on “What’s Going On,” with soulful vocals by Kidjo, Morrison, Patti Austin and Sylver Sharp, and soulful solo statements from Coltrane and Shorter. Probably the least interesting performances from a jazz perspective, including a rap mistake, were relegated to the bonus track area.

Santana and Montreux director Claude Nobs assembled quite line-up for an ambitious concert. Although the results are uneven, that is to be expected from such an All-Star event, and at least for Babalu colleagues, there is no butcher-fetish wardrobe to be seen.