JAZZ REVIEW : A Fine Show of Form and Ease

Flip Phillips, a premier jazz improviser for more than four decades, is still going strong.

On Friday night at the outdoor amphitheater of the Hyatt Newporter, the Florida-based Swing Era-styled tenor saxophonist--backed to a tee by pianist Lou Levy, bassist Monty Budwig and drummer Butch Miles--played superbly in a performance that was both invigorating and passionate.

The affair was a splendid example of just how well Phillips, 76, has maintained his musical magnetism throughout a career that reached its first peak in the mid-’40s with Woody Herman, and its second in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s. Then, as a member of the all-star touring troupe, Jazz at the Philharmonic, Phillips was wowing, and wooing, crowds with his gutsy-toned, rhythmic effusions, particularly on upbeat tunes, but on ballads as well.

Phillips’ renditions Friday of such typically up-tempo songs as “Cottontail” or “Perdido”--the latter is the tune most often associated with him as a result of a famous 1947 JATP live recording--weren’t as fast and furious as they once were. Over time, Phillips has definitely mellowed.

But the saxophonist--whose chief influences remain Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and Ben Webster--was always more than a showboater. Even his most riotous solos have long had a firm musical basis, despite the employment of the now-and-then musical “trick,” such as hitting a single high note several times in succession.

At the Newporter, Phillips once more eschewed the obvious “go-get-’em” ideas and built his solos on time-tested musical virtues. He offered keen melodic note choices that were organized into rhythmically powerful phrases and that swung with ease.

Simplicity and relaxation seemed to be his watchwords. On “Perdido,” the Juan Tizol composition that became a standard by the Duke Ellington orchestra, Phillips kept things at a moderate boil. He alternated mostly between fat, rich notes that stretched out like putty over a beat or two and more rapid-fire bursts, which, as he climbed into his horn’s upper reaches, gleamed like the setting sun. The occasional repeated-note foray--say a flavorful bottom register blast that you might call a musical Bronx cheer--was tossed in for color.

Phillips--dressed nattily in light blue slacks, a slightly darker thinly striped blue sports jacket offset by white shoes and tie--let his dark, majestic sound stand front-and-center on numerous medium-tempo selections (“In a Mellotone”) and tender torch songs (“This Is All I Ask” and “Poor Butterfly”).

On the latter, both his emotional melody treatment and his note-caressing solo--where he never strayed far from the song’s inherent mellifluousness--were passionate proofs that Phillips remains a master of the form. On long, held notes, he often proceeded the tone with an introductory, audible gush of breath. On more extended statements, he continued to surround his notes with whispered swirls of air, as if the notes were glowing embers and the breath the smoke that accompanied them.

The leader’s efforts were enhanced by Levy, Budwig and Miles, who, despite the fact that Miles is a Swing-oriented craftsman and the others lean to be-bop, worked as one in providing a resilient, cooking backdrop for Phillips.

Levy’s solos were a delightful contrast to the tenorman’s, as the pianist employed complexity at will, inventively fitting in 16 notes where Phillips might drop eight. Still, he never sacrificed the music for the sake of musicianship.

Budwig, a complete bassist, offered exemplary supporting bass lines as well as solos that showcased a ringing, round sound and no shortage of creative ideas. For his part, Miles kept things percolating in the drum chair.