Due to my "other responsibilities" . . . you know … life, I have fallen behind in these posts (and all others). Despite taking the week off, my tired old body is requesting less of this and more sleep and relaxation. Perhaps Day 4 a bit later or tomorrow if the trend continues. I'm cool with that and hope you are too….
Back to decisions … at the XRIJF some of them are wrong, others confused, but both can lead to discovery. Day 3 at the Rochester International Jazz Festival began in a typical XRIJF manner … in line for the 6:00 at Kilbourn. The line for Kilbourn Hall has pretty consistently turned the corner shortly after 4:00 pm (as did the one I'm in for Terence Blanchard Quintet while writing this). In addition to one of my favorite pastimes of people-watching and catching up with "jazz fest friends," the line at Kilbourn gives me a stretch of time to do some writing (although the iPad keyboard slows me down some). But back to the choices ….
As I was in the line at Kilbourn, you'll know my first was Ninety Miles. I've been listening to the CD from this project since it dropped, but hearing them live was great. Vibist Stefon Harris and saxophonist David Sanchez of the original project were joined by trumpeter Nicholas Payton, who replaced Christian Scott for the Rochester appearance, and a back line of Edward Simon on piano, Luques Curtis on bass, Enrico Lai (not sure on spelling this one), and Eddie "Maracito" Herrera on congas and percussion. They didn't just reprise the Ninety Miles disc, but continuing with its theme of Cuban/American collaboration they pulled music composed by each of the front men through the same collaborative treatment Afro-Cuban treatment.
Things got a little mixed from there…. Due to getting out late, many of the next options I was considering were underway or soon to be so got a bit confused. My next thought was to get to Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey at 9:00, after wandering for awhile, but since I'd seen them several times I decided to instead try out the Scottish trio Breach at Christ Church. Breach was three Scots, sans kilts (but with pants), Paul Harrison on Hammond B3 (those who know know I love me some B3), with Graeme Stephen on guitar and effects, and Chris Wallace on drums. While they too were wonderful, the reports I later heard confirmed that I should have listened to the little voice in my head and humped over to Xerox Auditorium for JFJO. When I left Breach, I wandered a bit, eventually going over to the Lutheran Church and catching the end of Eivor Palsdottir's set after a friend said "run and catch what you can… she has the voice of an angel…." (or something to that effect). Luckily, she did an encore and her voice is beautiful, with a range that left me slack-jawed before I, like the packed house gave her a long standing O (OK, I was already standing…). After sliding in for about 15 minutes of Brandi Disterheft.
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