Chick Corea - The Leprechaun at 75

Last June Chick Corea turned 75 and the famous Blue Note club in New York is celebrating the prominent composer, pianist, band leader with a series of nightly concerts between October 19 and December 11. On November 6, as I had meetings in New York the following days, I decided to go one day early and took the Delta Shuttle from the Washington Reagan National airport to La Guardia on the Sunday afternoon with barely time to stop by my Midtown hotel, take the 6 train down to the Village and walk over to the West Side to meet my friend Alan and his kids Emma and Ian at the club. We arrived early to secure good seats at the bar from where we would have an unobstructed view of the stage.

The Chick Corea series at the Blue Note celebrates the many faces of Chick Corea and features a broad cross section of the different combos he’s led and played with, including his famous Elektric Band, acoustic quartets and quintets, piano duets with Herbie Hancock, Brad Mehldau and Gonzalo Rubalcaba, two evenings with Gary Burton and the Harlem String Quartet, another two evenings with the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra, an evening with John McLaughlin (his partner from Miles’ Bitches Brew album), ending with four nights of Return to Forever meets Mahavishnu. Corea’s versatility and scope are indeed amazing.

 Over the past few decades I’ve caught Corea in various formats, starting with his 1970s performance at the Pori Jazz Festival in Finland with the original Return to Forever band. This was pure magic to me. Corea had previously worked with Miles Davis on a number of electric albums, which were path breaking in their hypnotic psychedelia. He had also made his own music in a more traditional piano trio format (his 1968 Now He Sings, Now He Sobs, featuring Roy Haynes and Miroslav Vitous, was a breakthrough). But the new band was something entirely different, something that no-one else had done before. It featured Corea on a Fender Rhodes, Joe Farrell on the flute and soprano sax, Stanley Clarke on bass and Airto Moreira on drums and percussion. Their regular singer, Airto’s wife, Flora Purim had just had a baby and was replaced by a less impressive male singer, but this hardly mattered. The band played music from their eponymously titled first album, which I had recently purchased and had hardly listened to anything else since then. Stanley Clarke was barely out of his teens then, but his work on the big bass was amazing and his interplay with Airto – unusually behind a regular drum kit beating a flat ride cymbal – made the music soar light as a feather (the title of their yet-to-come second album). I was just a kid, sitting on the floor in front of the stage in Pori Theater, and I was totally mesmerized (I can still remember the feeling). I could not imagine anything more beautiful than the ringing sounds of the flute and the Rhodes conjuring exotic soundscapes.

The last time I saw and heard Chick before this latest night was a couple of years ago at New York City’s Highline Ballroom, that time with an acoustic trio featuring Brian Blake and Christian McBride. This more conventional setting was anything but, as the three innovators created new music on old instruments. I was also there one night for the master’s 70th birthday celebration, also at the Blue Note. That evening the band featured Hubert Laws, the amazing flautist who was one of my greatest idols in my teen years.

This time it was the Leprechaun Band, named after the 1976 album. The band featured two other legends in addition to the maestro: Eddie Gomez on bass and Steve Gadd on drums. They had a frontline of three horns: Steve Wilson, Michael Rodriguez and Steve Davis. As per the commemorative program booklet, the evening found them “reimagining the game-changing music from The Leprechaun, My Spanish Heart and The Mad Hatter.” These three were among my all-time favorite Corea albums (although it’s hard to say, as most of them are excellent). Chick himself was in superb form alternating between acoustic and electric pianos and synthesizers (no Rhodes, though). He remains as boyish as ever and it would be hard to believe him to be his age.

Apart from his trombone, Steve Davis was in charge of the horn section, which worked together perfectly. Michael Rodriguez played crisp trumpet, although there was a debate between Alan and Ian about the merit of his solos, with the son defending Rodriguez’ work against some skepticism from his father. No-one could disagree, however, that some of the most beautiful solos were produced by Steve Wilson. Again, I was enthralled by his flute work. Where does Corea find all these stunning flutists? As a flute player myself, I have always appreciated the prominence Chick Corea gives to the instrument in his compositions.

Some of the most memorable pieces included ‘Friends’ from The Mad Hatter and ‘Reverie,’ a ballad that featured a gorgeous alto sax lead by Steve Wilson and beautiful unison work by the three horns. The set ended with a rendition of Pino Daniele’s ‘Sicily.’ This was a lovely homage to the wonderful Italian musician, composer and singer who passed away only last year at the age of 59. Needless to say, the audience that packed the Blue Note did not relent before an encore. And we got an incredible treat: ‘Spain’ as a duet between Chick and Steve Gadd. This, perhaps the most famous composition by Chick Corea, now performed only on grand piano and drums sent us to the cold New York City night radiating heat from the inside.

Chick Corea with Hubert Laws @ Blue Note, May 13, 2010

The fact that Chick Corea can pack New York’s Blue Note club for 24 shows over a two-week period is firm proof, if any was needed, that he remains a jazz superstar. The theme was ‘Further Explorations of Bill Evans’ and Corea had for the occasion put together a trio with two important Evans alumni: Paul Motian played drums with the pianist’s legendary trio since 1959 till 1964; Eddie Gomez became the chosen bass player for Evans in 1966 and stayed with the maestro for eleven years recording a number of classic trio and duo recordings.

On selected evenings of this month’s Blue Note gig, the trio was supplemented by stellar guest artists, such as Joe Lovano, Greg Osby and John Scofield. I timed my concert going to the evening when the guest soloist was the flutist Hubert Laws, an early hero since I was a boy back in Helsinki. This was actually the first time I’d ever heard Laws live, as the gentleman is not a frequent sight at even New York’s best and foremost jazz venues. Apart from having had an outstanding career as a studio musician and the preferred flautist to producers such as Quincy Jones, Laws has released some twenty records under his own name (many of them, I must admit, fall under the category of smooth jazz, some borderline schmaltz). He has also played solo flute with top-notch classical orchestras, such as the New York Philharmonic and the Metropolitan Opera. His records Afro-Classic and The Rite of Spring, released in 1970 and 1972 respectively, in which he combined his classical acumen with jazz arrangements, were cherished treasures to me when I was studying the flute.

So I was appropriately excited when the band walked down the stairs of the legendary West Village club onto the stage in front of a packed audience. Corea, who will turn 69 in June, appeared as boyish and communicative as ever. He stood up to introduce the band—each member of which has been a leader in his own right—including Laws with whom he said he’d been buddies since the 1960s. Then he simply announced that, “This is a jam session. We’re going to start with something.” He sat behind the piano and started a lively solo, which the band joined in after just a brief intro. Laws initially took the lead melody but the band soon settled into a mood that would permeate the evening.

While all of the players are virtuosos in their instruments, none of them would dominate. The music was distinctly characterized by collective interplay where all players would closely listen to each other and keenly react to impulses emanating from their band mates. Throughout the concert, Paul Motian would keep a low profile avoiding any flashy displays, rather sensitively contributing to the music with delicate accents. The music played this evening would be light as a feather.

After the first tune, Corea and Laws apparently felt that the flute microphone wasn’t turned high enough in the mix. The leader got up and told the soundman in a thick fake foreign accent, “The flute player need more flute.” Once the volume was adjusted, Corea continued joking, “The flute player will now play solo flute.”

What followed was one of the high points of the evening for me. The piano led the band into a light medium waltz, which I soon recognized as the familiar and wonderful Bill Evans piece ‘Waltz for Debby’ from half a century ago. Laws played the lovely melody with a beautiful tone. With Hubert Laws, you don’t expect vocalizing or any of the other gimmicks so common with many jazz flutists; just smooth and beautiful playing with a fluid technique. His tone is thick like Gazzelloni’s and his double and triple tonguing as facile as Rampal’s. Indeed, Laws’ flute playing sounds so light and easy that it belies the complexity and skill.

Next, Corea explained that they would now try to play a Bill Evans tune that they had just discovered on a tape and transcribed this week. He said shrugging that it had simply been titled ‘Song #1’ on the tape. It turned out to be an exquisite ballad with a melody that fit perfectly the band’s harmonic combination of flute, piano and bass.

The next number was introduced by Gomez skilfully bowing his bass in a classically-inspired solo, which at times sounded like a cello as he climbed high on neck. The solo then morphed into a dramatic tango rhythm into which the rest of the band joined. This to me would be the second high point of the show. The band explored the piece from various angles and in his solo Corea himself brought out the unmistakably Moorish roots of the Argentinean music. The atmosphere intensified, as the players ventured outside of the strictures of the genre, the Puerto Rican born bass player slapping the strings before switching back to his French style bow, again bringing order to the dance.

The remaining two numbers were more mainstream jazz. Hubert Laws played both somewhat unusually on a piccolo. The first, a medium swing, was light and good humoured. Finally, a fast be-bop version of the standard ‘What is This Thing Called Love?’ brought the concert to a satisfying close.

Sadao Watanabe @ The Blue Note, September 8, 2008

Sadao Watanabe is one of the grand old men of Japanese jazz, so when I saw that he would give one of his increasingly infrequent performances on this side of the globe I decided it would be an event not to be missed. It was also opportune since my old friend Pekka was visiting from Helsinki and wanted to hear some good live music. So we headed to the Blue Note in West Village. Luckily we arrived early as the place was quickly getting crowded. We were still able to secure stools at the bar with a perfect view of the stage; had we arrived 15 minutes later this would not have been possible. Needless to say, as is always the case at New York jazz clubs, many in the audience were Japanese, either locals or visiting. Jazz is a major Japanese interest and famous clubs like the Blue Note are a must for many tourists from the Land of the Rising Sun. However, word of the rare performance had spread in the Big Apple music circles and the performance was soon sold out to a thoroughly mixed audience.

The 75-year-old master entered the stage quite promptly on schedule. He was in a joyful mood and thanked the sponsors of the trip, as this had allowed him to travel with his own band from Japan, as opposed to putting together a group of local musicians on the spot. Playing with his own band guaranteed the performance’s tightness.

The first number, as well as the one that followed it, were light hearted romps. Watanabe’s alto sax sound was as clear and beautiful as ever. The youthful band played the rolling funk so cheerfully, prompting Pekka to suggest that it sounded almost vacuous and that especially the guitar played by Jun Kajiwara was even too light. I had to agree. Luckily, this mood was only for the beginning. Already the third tune, a version of Dizzy’s classic Salt Peanuts, carried much more weight. Even if the piece is not known for any manner of serious-mindedness, it provided the sax man a chance to show off some serious be-bop chops.

This was followed by the lovely ballad You Should Go Now, which Watanabe interpreted wonderfully. His alto was crisp singing the melancholy melody with lyrical determination. The keyboardist Akira Onozuka, now on acoustic piano, was equally expressive in his solo demonstrating some highly original harmonies.

After this, the mood turned outright festive with tunes like the Brazilian favourite Chega de Saudade (which aptly translates into ‘end of melancholy’) boosting the rhythm section, consisting of Kiichiro Komobuchi (electric bass), Masaharu Ishikawa (drums) and N'diasse Niang (percussion), into infectious samba swing.

Around this time one Japanese customer was forcibly removed from the club by two large security guards. I did not see what caused this incident, but I had earlier paid attention to the middle aged man when he was hanging around the bar before the performance. It was not only his somewhat unusual outfit – a fedora and a leather vest on top of a tank-top – but the threatening way he was eyeing the other customers. This was the first time I had witnessed anything similar at this venue – or with Japanese customers.

Nevertheless, the show went on and the audience was growing more and more enthusiastic. To me, the high point of the evening was a tune, which Sadao Watanabe explained he had heard a young woman sing on the Indian Ocean beach in Tanzania years ago. He had approached the beautiful lady and asked about the song. He later adapted the traditional tune to this new format. He played the haunting melody with a breathy flute before turning back to his sax for the solo. The piece also highlighted the percussionist, N'diasse Niang, who was the only non-Japanese player in the band. Watanabe had originally encountered him in the National Ballet of Senegal but the man now lived in Yokohama. His solos throughout the evening received some of the most enthusiastic applause.

This was all in all a lovely performance by an old Sensei surrounded by a select group of his disciples.