JAZZ REVIEW : MIXED BAG AT QUEEN MARY FEST

The second annual Queen Mary Jazz Festival in Long Beach was held, like its predecessor, not aboard the mighty liner but on the dock about 100 yards away, in what seems like an enormous converted parking lot.

Again co-producer Al Williams (with Roy Hassett) tried to find a middle ground between artistic values and economic necessities. He succeeded to some extent Saturday, but hardly at all on Friday, when two of the three acts were essentially pop-oriented. Hiroshima, an eight-piece band that achieved, not too long ago, an exciting cultural cross-fertilization, seems to have lost sight of its original aims. Overwhelmed by electronics, its set was noteworthy only when koto soloist June Kuramoto could be heard above the din.

Ronnie Laws is another of those poor little sheep who have lost their way. A schooled musician, he now makes flatulent popular sounds on the soprano and tenor saxophones.

The Modern Jazz Quartet, Friday’s only pure jazz act, reached the stage an hour late. Though the MJQ sounded as elegant as possible in view of the out-of-tune piano and its distorted sound, John Lewis, the pianist and musical director, cut the set short after 35 minutes.

Saturday brought a couple of surprises. An unbilled orchestra co-led by bassist John Clayton and drummer Jeff Hamilton (inexplicably introduced by emcee Rick Holmes as “Clayton Hamilton and His Jazz Band”) played a short, attractive set. The two leaders and five sidemen remained on stage for the closing set by Ray Charles, whose regular band was absent. Charles’ motor has been idling for too many years; this intimate setting could have provided a challenge for him, yet he came on totally unprepared, complaining (as he always seems to) about the sound system, singing the same repertoire he has sung for 30 years.

Some of the most thoughtful music in the eight-hour marathon was offered by Betty Carter’s backup team: pianist Benny Green and drummer Winard Harper, both 23, and bassist Michael Bowie, 24. Both in their warm-up number and in various solos during Carter’s set, they reminded us that young, unspoiled jazz talent can still be found; it simply needs this kind of exposure. I would gladly have forfeited the entire set by Ramsey Lewis, the Liberace of jazz, to hear a couple more numbers by this promising trio.

Carter was her own unchanging self with a quizzical charm, offbeat phrasing and idiosyncratic scatting. It was a joy to see and hear her, silhouetted against the setting sun, as she tore apart the lyrics of “The Man I Love” into her own very personal shreds.

Al Williams kicked off the afternoon with a mainstream set (Bobby Bryant, Buster Cooper, Herman Riley, et al.) that went well until an arch vocal person named Little Joe Dobbins took over, sang “Cabaret” and devoted a whole song to one feeble pun.

Freddie Hubbard, leading his quintet (Bob Shepherd, saxes and flute; John Beasley, piano; John B. Williams, bass; Ralph Penland, drums), assured the audience that he was about to play jazz rather than rock and roll. He was true to his word, recalling his Art Blakey days with his composition “Thermo” and adding a few new rhythmic twists to “Caravan.” His encore, Benard Ighner’s “Super Blue,” gave John B. Williams a chance to shine on electric bass.

Roy Ayers, a big commercial name for 15 years in crossover music, is still a talented vibraphonist, but this aspect of his work nowadays is secondary to his singing and his comedy raps. The crowd loved him.