Date: June 23, 2010
Venue: Central Park Summerstage, NYC

Text by Dawoud Kringle

It was one of those New York City Summers in Central Park. Under the late day sun’s searing heat, oppressive lingering humidity, pollution, and chemtrails, the latest George Wein – produced concert was offered to the people of the Five Boroughs.

This concert promised a lot. Young lions and legends shared the stage. They did not disappoint.

First on the bill was McCoy Tyner‘s quartet. Tyner is a grand master in the realm of jazz. After his legendary stint with John Coltrane, he went on to hold his own in the decades that followed. His age and physical fragility have not diminished the beauty of his playing. There was an almost Ellington-esque quality to much of his playing. Although that familiar percussive / bell like attack he’s famous for was always in the forefront.

Joining him was Francisco Mela on drums, Esperanza Spalding on bass, and Ravi Coltrane on saxophone. Mela’s playing complimented Tyner perfectly. He drove the band in a way that underscored everything and injected life into an already great band. In fact, he seemed to have an almost melodic approach to drums; something I’ve heard in many of the greats.

Esperanza Spalding is everything people have been saying about her. Her fully evolved sense of melody and harmony, perfect command of the bass, and her instinctive communication with the band (she seemed to build a bridge between the drums and piano) were the stuff one would expect of a seasoned veteran. She accomplished this in a mere quarter decade of life on this planet.

And what can I say about Ravi Coltrane? Having been born into Jazz Royalty, and carrying the burden of the monumental legend of his late father, he found his own voice, and forged his own path. His performance, like many others I’d attended, was inventive and graceful.

By the time the June sun dipped below the horizon, Stanley Clarke took the stage. The last time I saw Clarke Live was in 1979 when he toured to support “I Wanna Play For You.” I wasn’t sure what to expect. But he hit the ground running. He opened with a piece that led into an astonishing interpretation of “Goodbye Porkpie Hat” – played on his famous Alembic bass guitar. What was interesting was that this was the only piece he played on electric bass. The rest of the night he played upright bass.

Clarke’s keyboardist (a brilliant young Israeli gentleman whose name I never got) handled the bass lines when Clarke was playing lead lines and solos. In fact, his keyboardist must be commended: during a moment where the pickup or preamp on Clarke’s bass was malfunctioning, he assumed the duties of the bass lines until the problem was solved. Clarke’s playing was fiery without flash; assertive and virtuoso without ego or overplaying. He has chops to burn, and uses them; but never at the expense of the music.

Clarke’s drummer, a young man from Compton, California, was powerful, and – well, I don’t want to use that overused word “funky”, but yes, he was FUNKY! And precise; his grooves and solos were muscular, yet possessed that strange kind of delicacy that the fusion pioneers like Clarke and his contemporaries invented and perpetuated.

But it was special guest Hiromi who really stole the show. A Japanese pianist with an impressive set of credentials, she played with an almost superhuman virtuosity, abandon, and passion to rival Clarke. The stereotype image of Japanese women pianists who passively submit to their instruments and the music one expects them to play has been shattered completely. She would simultaneously delicately caress and mercilessly flog the piano in an orgastic frenzy, dancing around, seemingly incapable of staying in one place (amazing, because what she played was difficult enough while merely sitting at the piano.) And never once did she repeat herself or relied on a musical cliché to elicit a response from the audience. At times I almost thought she would levitate off the stage. Maybe she did!

The whole concert was a joyful and beautiful event.