Jazz : Mulligan & Co. Show Creative Vigor

The geometrical crew cuts of their youth were long gone--replaced, in Gerry Mulligan and Bud Shank’s case, with whitening locks and shaggy beards. Only Chico Hamilton, the senior of the three jazz veterans at the Wadsworth Theatre Saturday night, looked relatively unchanged, still the trimly dapper percussionist he was in the halcyon jazz years of the ‘50s.

The concert, sponsored by radio station KLON-FM, was a celebration of Pacific Jazz records, the company that first recorded Mulligan’s now-classic pianoless quartet in 1952. Directed by Dick Bock, Pacific became a significant force in the propagation of a cool, relaxed, briskly melodic music known as West Coast jazz, and Shank, Mulligan and Hamilton were among the company’s most popular performers.

“Bock started that company,” recalled Mulligan, “with his knowledge of the record business, 400 borrowed dollars and my quartet. Somehow, it all paid off, although not necessarily for my quartet. But that was OK. He was a little unusual--not really of his time, and neither was I. Maybe that’s why we got along.”

Saturday night’s performance, however, despite its great potential for nostalgia, was clearly intended--by the players, at least--to showcase the continued creative vigor of the participants’ music. Mulligan worked with his current quartet, and Shank played pieces from his current repertoire. Even the Hamilton group, with its inclusion of original members Fred Katz on cello and Buddy Collette on woodwinds, seemed determined to display the enduring viability of their unusual instrumentation.

Mulligan very nearly stole the show. At 63, still reed thin, still one of the very few masters of the baritone saxophone, he was as whimsical in his recollections of the early days of Pacific Jazz as he was buoyant and alive with his music.

His first recording for Pacific (which was the label’s debut outing) featured what was for the time a decidedly unconventional quartet without a piano. With Mulligan, Chet Baker on trumpet, Bob Whitlock on bass and Hamilton on drums, it quickly became one of the most popularly admired jazz groups of the era.

“I remember that I started putting together the pianoless quartet,” he recalled, “after I’d been doing off-nights at Dick Bock’s club, the Haig. He had a beautiful concert grand there when Erroll Garner was booked into the room. But then he brought in a trio with Red Norvo, Red Mitchell and Tal Farlow--and no piano.”

From such random beginnings is musical history made.

But Mulligan went on to have many groups--larger and smaller, with and without piano. His current band, one of his finest, includes a standard rhythm section with three young players--Frank Amsallem on piano, Dean Johnson on bass and Dave Ratajczak on drums--superbly attuned to Mulligan’s style.

Although he played a series of attractive solos with the brisk, loping, near-New Orleans phrasing that has long characterized his work, Mulligan impressed most with several new compositions. “Flying Scotsman,” “Lonesome Boulevard” and “A Gift for Diz” were pieces that call for further hearings. Like so many of Mulligan’s past efforts, they disguised their adventurousness with magnetically accessible melodies, sudden changes of phrase and brisk rhythms.

Shank, who opened the program with the rhythm section of pianist Mike Wofford, bassist Bob Magnusson and drummer Sherman Ferguson, has been living in Washington state for the last few years. His move away from the commercial intrigues of Los Angeles in search of a more alluring jazz muse has resulted in the emergence of a warm and forceful voice.

There were moments--especially in the Coltranesque rhythms of “Dear John” and originals like “Sea Flowers” and “Now She Dances”--when his alto saxophone cranked out mechanical streams of notes, but Shank more often played with a colorful range of feelings not always apparent in his youthful outings.

The Hamilton set had some uncertain moments due in part to occasional coordination problems that left little room for Katz’s cello lines. “Blue Sands,” which featured Collette’s flute and Hamilton’s hypnotic mallet work, provided convincing evidence of the group’s contemporary relevance.