JAZZ REVIEW : New Verve Sparkles at JVC Festival

Looking back over the ambitious JVC Jazz Festival here, one cannot help but be encouraged by a continuing profusion of talented young musicians that should assure jazz of a healthy future.

The youth movement was splendidly catered to during the 10-day event, which concluded over the weekend, when trumpeter Jon Faddis produced “Be-Bop: 40 And Younger” at the 500-seat Equitable Auditorium.

Discounting Dizzy Gillespie, who seemed to make unbilled guest appearances almost every night, most of the participants were born long after the be-bop movement was in first flower.

That be-bop has survived the inroads of fusion, New Age, electronic and other movements was illustrated by the total ease with which pianist Mulgrew Miller handled Bud Powell’s “Celia,” Faddis updated Tadd Dameron’s “Hot House” and the Vancouver-born pianist Renee Rosnes winningly adapted Monk’s “Four in One” to her personality.

Three saxophonists--Billy Pierce on tenor, 21-year-old Christopher Hollyday and the inflammatory Bobby Watson on altos--took the 1940s bop perennial “Donna Lee” at a death-defying tempo during a blowing riot in which everybody won, but Watson triumphed during last week’s concert. The rhythm section, with 19-year-old Christian McBride on bass, sustained the relentless beat with muscular power.

Watson reappeared in a more ambitious but far less successful setting. “One for Dexter” at Avery Fisher Hall was billed as “An Evening of Music, Drama, Film and Dance, Dedicated to the Spirit of Dexter Gordon.”

Awkward stage waits and an inexplicable shortage of tenor-sax solos were among many shortcomings in a long, tiresomely pretentious production. Not that there was a total absence of fine music: Wynton Marsalis was in rare form on an early Ellington tune, “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo.” The rarely heard marimba was Bobby Hutcherson’s vehicle in an admirable quartet version of “Love Letters.”

Nevertheless, the only memorable moments were on screen, including clips from “ ‘Round Midnight” and a film made during his final public appearance in 1988 that reminded us of his warm personality.

In the Weill Hall piano series, the Danish soloist Neils Lan Doky offered angular, jagged effects suggesting an introduction to a theme that never arrived.

Ellis Larkins drew a full house and a standing ovation as he made clear that at 68 he remains the supreme spokesman for a kinder, gentler piano. The final Weill soloist was Barry Harris, who at 61 alternates first-rate be-bop on Bud Powell and Monk tunes with dubious vocal material from a show he hopes to write for Barbra Streisand.

“Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz” at Avery Fisher Hall was a live counterpart to her long-running series on National Public Radio. Hosting graciously, playing solo or teaming with her guests (a couple of whom played duets with other guests), McPartland showed a consistent harmonic and rhythmic flair, whether teamed with Renee Rosnes on “Solar” or joining with Dave Brubeck on Brubeck’s “In Your Own Sweet Way.”

For a crowd-pleasing finale, four pianos were assembled in an eight-pianist roundup on “Perdido.” Completing the octet were John Bunch, Tommy Flanagan, Mulgrew Miller, George Wein and Sir Roland Hanna.

The final Carnegie Hall concert featured two groups, Mari Okubo and her sextet, followed by Ornette Coleman & Prime Time. Backed by a band that overwhelmed her much of the time, Okubo sang nervously and tonelessly for 45 minutes (in Japanese? English? Portuguese?), prompting so many walkouts that the bar was soon as full as it normally becomes at intermission.

Coleman is either one of the greatest living jazz men (in the view of certain critics) or the most overrated ever to become a major cult figure. The truth is closer to the second viewpoint; however, Coleman’s alto sax is masterful compared to his ludicrous scratching and scraping on the violin.

Coleman’s present band is less chaotic than his previous version of Prime Time. He has the Indian percussionist Badal Roy and a promising guitarist, Chris Rosenberg. He also has enough adulation in print to assure him of a standing ovation merely for walking onstage. That’s jazz business.