JAZZ REVIEWS : ‘MANY FACES OF BIRD’ AT WILTERN THEATER

Wednesday’s concert in the “Jazzvisions” series at the Wiltern Theater was a Charlie Parker retrospective called “The Many Faces of Bird.” The alto saxophonists hired to bring this premise to life were James Moody, Bud Shank and Lee Konitz, all born in the mid-1920s and old enough to have heard Parker in person; and Richie Cole, who was only 7 when Bird died in 1955.

Perhaps for this reason, Cole, two generations removed from Parker and essentially a protege of Phil Woods (who in turn was Parker’s direct disciple), seemed to take the evening lightly. He peppered his solos with quotes and comic staccato articulations, scatted along with Bobby McFerrin, and generally had a good time. In his more serene moments, he showed his debt to the original bebop master.

For pure post-Parkerism, Moody and Shank had the evening in their pockets, blending immense control and speed with melodic lines whose interest never flagged. It was as if both men stemmed in a straight line from the Parker epicenter, landing at different points on the compass.

Konitz, whose ties to Bird were always tenuous at best, seemed vaguely out of place, though his non-aggressive blowing at least provided a sense of contrast.

Inhibiting the proceedings was that old devil sound balance. The faster the tempo, the muddier it got; in fact, on the opening, “Cherokee,” Monty Budwig’s bass was miked so loud that it could be heard in Culver City. Later, in the Latin-rhythmed “Star Eyes” and the Moody-Cole duo on “April in Paris,” things settled down somewhat.

McFerrin, reviewed here two weeks ago, played everything for laughs. For a while it was hilarious, but his singalong shtick in the encore was strictly Cab Calloway, vintage 1930.

Lou Levy’s piano, when not over-miked, conveyed the right feeling, especially in an easy-going chorus on “Embraceable You.” John Guerin offered the mandatory drum solo in the final number.

Except for one attempt by Shank and Konitz to play a Parker solo together a la Supersax, nothing remotely innovative happened. At times one longed for Moody to bring out his tenor sax, or for some other horn to break the monotony. (Even Supersax uses a trumpet player.)

At best this was a joyous evocation of Bird’s spirit, but after an hour and 40 minutes it was just a little too much of an intermittently good thing.