Dave Holland Octet

Gven and I went to a really good concert Saturday night at Weigel Hall on the Central Swingstate Megaversity campus. Being a born tightwad, I don't often spring for the prices tickets go for these days, but when I saw the ad in the Sunday paper, I decided this would be an exception. And it wasn't even that expensive.

Dave Holland is one of those nonstars of the music business who has been playing with the greats for so long that it's probably his turn to get some recognition. I am no jazz aficionado by any stretch of the definition, but I've seen his name on so many albums and heard his name on the radio enough to know he's got the chops. But I've never seen him play.

The man who walked unassumingly out on stage was the most relaxed performer I've ever seen, smiling and nonchalant, dressed in slacks and a loose shirt. He introduced Trilok Gurtu, an Indian drummer who would join him for a "musical conversation" in the opening set, and the two of them set about doing just that in an intense hour or so of bass and drums (tabla, conga, and a bunch of others) back and forth. They traded solos, made a lot of eye contact, and Trilok did a little mouth percussion and other Indian rhythmic vocalese that spiced the mix. A couple of times it made me close my eyes and almost drift off, kind of hypnotic the way an all-instrumental David Grisman concert once did, which is a strange reaction to music I was enjoying.

They took a break. Sophisticated, well-dressed central swingstaters milled about the aisles, the lobby, and outside, talking, smoking, and waiting in line for the inadequate restrooms. We walked around to stretch our hamstrings, got a drink of water, and returned to our seats. Interesting crowd, although the young man sitting next to Gven seems to have bathed in his cologne.

When the octet sauntered onstage, the cast of characters would have made a good movie. Picture "The Usual Suspects" with instruments. Holland in back with the drummer Nate Smith on his left (our right) and the vibes and marimba player Steve Nelson on his right (our left). In front with their music stands and sheet music stood Gary Smulyan, a short, rotund baritone sax player wearing a long jacket; Robin Eubanks, a muscular kind of shooting-guard in tight black leather pants, on trombone; Sasha Spiagin, a quiet, circumspect, blond Russian on trumpet; Antonio Hart, a smallish alto sax player with glasses; and sandy-haired Chris Potter on tenor and soprano sax.

A moment of unscripted drama occurred during the first piece. When Holland introduced the band members, he got the alto and tenor players mixed up, apologized, and left out Potter's last name. As they launched into the first piece, Potter walked off stage right as everybody else played (I don't remember what the thing was like, but he didn't call them 'songs', he called them 'compositions'), and during one man's solo, the others looked quizzically about, shrugging, like where's Chris? Holland was laughing after a bit, and I'm thinking Chris is getting him back, like mess with me, mister big international bandleader. Eventually Chris returned, having made his point, and played his part. It was fun watching their reactions. Cool jazz guyz.

The music - oh, yeah, there was also music - ranged all over the place. I think my favorite piece was "Blue Jean," which Holland dedicated to his wife's mother in London, who loved Ellington. Like a good ball team, each member contributed a lot, although I enjoyed the baritone solos the most, and the drummer could have laid back a bit more. It was clear to me that all these young hot-shots played off Holland, the bass/trunk-of-tree for all their branches, and he looked like a took great pleasure in providing the unifying thread when all the parts went off and eventually returned. Gven liked the trombone player's pants.

After hot tea and baklava at the little Greek place across High Street, we speculated on the way home about where these dudes would go after the show. I'm thinking they find their way to a good restaurant for a nice dinner, then the older guys go back to the hotel, while Nate, Steve, Robin, and Sasha scout out a club somewhere and party. Being both old and clueless myself, I have no idea where that would be, but I trust that they know where to find it.