JAZZ REVIEW : PLAYBOY FEST FANS GET IN THEIR LICKS

There were several healthy helpings of genuine jazz Sunday at the Hollywood Bowl. There were also a few episodes of wild audience reaction, though for the most part they did not coincide with the moments of musical creativity.

The problem that plagues all such celebrations was in evidence again as the Playboy Jazz Festival came to its ninth coda. The frenetic salsa sounds of a band led by the Panamanian singer Ruben Blades evoked near-panic. Beach balls bounced. Security officers pounced. Conga lines formed. Excitement mounted in direct proportion to the group’s rhythmic intensity.

Later on, Kenny G went through precisely the same motions that had worked so well Saturday for the Jeff Lorber Band: He took his saxophone out into the house, marching around and creating similarly frantic conditions. Later it was George Benson’s turn; his perennial “On Broadway” brought the crowd of 17,827 to its feet.

Happenings like this are to be expected at an event geared to providing the audience with a feel-good experience, and only secondarily to maintaining musical standards. The success of Blades in fact was deserved, since he delivered expertly in his Latin groove. Regrettable, though, is that the programming forced two units to appear so early that most of the crowd hadn’t yet arrived.

A quintet from Detroit led by Walter White on trumpet and Rick Margitza on tenor sax, who won the Hennessy talent contest, played a spirited brand of neo-bop with admirable solos by the leaders and by pianist Gary Schunk.

As the fans continued to file in, Mundell Lowe’s quartet took over in a mature mainstream mood with fine work by the leader on guitar, George Gaffney on piano, Andy Simpkins on bass and Paul Humphrey on drums.

Jack DeJohnette’s Special Edition didn’t stop the presses. Because almost everyone in the band doubles (even the leader vacillates between drums and piano), there is no firm group sound. There were some moments of value in a vaguely Middle Eastern piece, with the reed players switching to flute and soprano sax, but the electric guitar distortions and a general shortage of cohesion proved inhibiting factors.

The fans were next provided with a hefty bagful of blues, ballads and R&B;, doled out with more largesse than finesse by Etta James. Her gospel number, “Something’s Got a Hold on Me,” showed what a compelling mood she can stir up when she isn’t overacting. During most of her set, the less she screamed, the more she sounded in tune, and vice versa.

Branford Marsalis led his potent quartet through works by McCoy Tyner, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane (an impassioned “Giant Steps”) and his own pianist Kenny Kirkland in the best contemporary jazz hour of the whole Sunday marathon.

It was a pleasure to hear George Benson accompanied simply by the organist Lonnie Smith and a drummer, Art Gore. In this setting the guitarist recaptured the splendor of his early days with a blues and an “I Got Rhythm” variation. But Smith and Gore then disappeared, replaced by guitarist Earl Klugh and others as Benson went into his pop vocal bag.

Lionel Hampton, who has never been intimidated by having to follow anyone, quelled the post-Benson uproar by delivering, with his skilled orchestra, a surprisingly effective arrangement of “Mack the Knife,” a merengue and several pieces from the standard Hampton repertoire. Comedian Bill Cosby sat in on drums for the first tune.

Hampton played for an hour and a half, but unlike Saturday’s crowd, which had walked out in large numbers on Charlie Watts, the audience remained, jumping and shouting until the band had left the stage and Hampton, unfazed, stood out there alone, looking as though he would gladly have stayed onstage forever.