MONTREAL: EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES

Until you arrive in this very civilized city, it is hard to imagine the very special ambiance that pervades it, particularly during the 10 days of the Festival International de Jazz de Montreal.

The scope and span of the festivities may be without equal, even in New York. The 158 presentations (more than 90 are free open-air events) encompass mainstream combos, big bands, fusion groups, reggae, blues, Cajun, bop, tango, a Zydeco group and a healthy avant-garde contingent.

Of the dozen venues around town, most are concentrated in or near the Rue St. Denis, where indoor theaters and outdoor stages vie for attention. The sounds begin at noon, usually with a Dixieland band on the Rue St. Catherine, and continue until 2 a.m.

In the three-block St. Denis area that has been closed to vehicles during the festival, the human traffic every evening has been so dense that it took 20 minutes to make one’s way along a single block. The teeming sardine-can masses at any given time are estimated at 25,000; among them are strolling musicians, clowns, acrobats, jugglers, firecrackers, dancers, and, on the street-side stages, Canadian performers playing musical chairs around the clock. This is, in short, the most festive of festivals; moreover, these huge, euphoric crowds are as cheerful and orderly as the subways are clean and safe. I saw almost no police surveillance. Nothing like this could ever happen in New York.

Montreal is quite unlike Montreux, which runs 17 days but which devotes many hours to rock, pop, funk and American college bands. It also bears no resemblance to Monterey, where the three days remain loyally conservative. The differing stances of Montreal, Montreux and Monterey reflect both the business sense and the personal tastes of the promoters.

Alain Simard, the youngest of the major impresarios, was only 29 when he presented, in 1980, his first jazz festival, consisting simply of one weekend and half a dozen acts. With the help of Quebec’s Ministry of Cultural Affairs and various other government departments, along with several commercial sponsors, the event has grown far beyond expectations; attendance this year topped last year’s 250,000 to reach 300,000.

So much for the figures and the quantities; what of the quality? Among the Canadian groups it varies from conventional and derivative to experimental and surprising. Of course, big mainstream U.S. names were used as the main bait; this year, Simard booked dozens of them, from Louis Bellson, the Basie band, Tony Bennett, Dave Brubeck, Art Blakey and Chick Corea to Miles Davis, Ahmad Jamal, Lee Konitz, Sphere (interpreting Monk’s music) and Mel Torme.

Sounds of a more adventurous order were never in short supply. Pianist Mal Waldron teamed with bassist David Friesen, as did Don Pullen with George Adams; Max Roach was here with his quartet, playing with an unrivaled intensity; Cecil Taylor’s appearance drew unanimous press approval, as did Muhal Richard Abrams. Bassist Charlie Haden, though ailing, impressed a packed theater with his Liberation Orchestra.

Of all the U.S. visitors, Pat Metheny, who has played the last five of the six festivals, seems by now to be close to adopted-son status. This year, augmenting his group with a gospel vocal quartet, he sold out the house so fast that a second concert had to be scheduled. “Montreal is one of the few places,” he said, “where I feel I’m a celebrity.”

The young conversation pieces of 1985 are also on hand: trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, guitarist Stanley Jordan, pianist Makoto Ozone, and most remarkably, French guitarist Bireli Lagrene.

Like the Belgian-born Django Reinhardt, Lagrene is a Gypsy (but born in Alsace). He was playing concerts at 13, evoking memories with a style that drew strongly on Django. By now, however, he has expanded; after opening the show, backed by bass and drums, playing very musty standards and old Reinhardt tunes, he switched from acoustic to electric guitar and abandoned antiquity in favor of a world closer to John McLaughlin and Al DiMeola.

Lagrene succeeded on both levels; in fact, playing the Reinhardt tunes such as “Nuages,” he improved on the original, drawing on his more advanced harmonic ear and a swinging jazz essence that Reinhardt, for all his brilliance, never entirely achieved. Since he has more than 50 years of additional jazz history on which to draw, this is hardly a shock. As soon as he determines which path to follow, or how to plow his own, Lagrene will be acclaimed as a worldwide force in jazz.

Among the Canadian musicians, the pianist Lorraine Desmarais is the likeliest contender for success south of the border. A small, two-fisted brunette, she brought to her work a synthesis of what sounds variously like Bill Evans, McCoy Tyner and Chick Corea influences. Her virtuosity and dexterity were first discovered last year when she won a Yamaha talent contest. Desmarais, who has a debut album of original works out on a local label, would be a logical choice for one of the piano recitals at Carnegie next year.

There were also the Montreal Tout Etoile, the all-star sextet that opened for Tony Bennett; Dave Young, the bassist from Winnipeg, leading a traditional piano-guitar-bass group, and the popular Jacques Loussier, still cashing in on his perennial “Play Bach” gimmick.

At Biddie’s, a club partly owned by bassist Charlie Biddie and pianist Oliver Jones (a former student of Oscar Peterson’s sister), Jones and guitar player Nelson Symonds attested to the healthy condition of local small group jazz. At one of the open-air stands on St. Denis, I heard Gordon Fleming, from Winnipeg, who actually made respectable noises on an accordion. (I was reminded of the jazzman’s bumper-sticker slogan: “Use an Accordion, Go to Jail.”)

Canada, of course, has its quota of fusion bands. Among the most successful is Uzeb, a quartet that repeatedly sells almost as many records as Miles Davis in France. Uzeb and flutist Paul Horn were among the many artists I had to miss because of overlapping schedules. With a new happening set to begin somewhere or other every half-hour each evening, the embarrassment-of-riches syndrome loomed large at Montreal.

One element leaves room for improvement. Of the dozens of shows I have seen here, only one was an organized, packaged production with a specially assembled cast. “In the House of the Blues” has been presented every evening at the Club Soda, a crowded, humid cabaret.

This was a good idea gone wrong. The history-of-blues scripts wandered back and forth in time, not always even factually correct (Helen Humes’ famous “Million Dollar Secret” was credited to Ma Rainey and sung by a Rainey impersonator). Despite some excellent vocal work, the show was hampered by an overwrought emcee and by a tendency to turn songs that were once poignant and moving into cheap comedy vehicles. Jon Hendricks used the same idea 25 years ago in his “Evolution of the Blues” at Monterey; Montreal would be well advised to let him stage it here.

More and better concept shows are needed here. Dave Brubeck offered his usual program with his regular quartet; in New York, he was the centerpiece in “The Musical Life of Dave Brubeck,” with several alumni rejoining him, Hendricks narrating, and Carmen McRae singing some of Brubeck’s most attractive songs. (He will repeat this show Wednesday at the Hollywood Bowl.) It might be argued that since his Montreal show was sold out, any extra expense would have been wasted; however, a unique presentation along those lines might have filled three or four houses.

One other suggestion: Except for Jon Hendricks, I can’t recall that any American artist made more than token use of what is always a much-appreciated gesture--the use of announcements in French. As Paul Horn reminded me: “When someone speaks three languages, he’s called trilingual. If he speaks two, he’s called bilingual. If he speaks one, he’s called an American.”

However, for an extended examination of the many languages of jazz, with a soupcon of cosmopolitan atmosphere, Montreal would be hard to beat, even if you don’t know how to say merci . The fine festive vibes here are unlike anything I have experienced elsewhere on the North American continent.