JAZZ REVIEW : A Sleek Tower of Power : Warm, Yet Volatile Saxophonist Bob Cooper Makes the Music Move

Purveying one of the most distinguished tones in modern jazz, tenor saxophonist Bob Cooper masterfully blended elements of swing and be-bop Sunday afternoon at Gustaf Anders restaurant in South Coast Plaza Village.

Cooper has long been heralded for his robust, energetic work with Stan Kenton’s Orchestra as well as with the Lighthouse All-Stars--both in the ‘50s, when bassist Howard Rumsey led the Lighthouse band; and in a newly formed ensemble led by altoist Bud Shank and fluegelhornist Shorty Rogers, two other ex-Lighthousemen.

Sunday, appearing with pianist Les Czimber’s trio (including bassist Bruce Lett and drummer Nick Martinis), Cooper was a tower of power. The tower comes from the fact that the 65-year-old musician stands about 6-feet-4. The power comes from his elegant, burnished sound, a tone as sleek and dark as a black panther and, like that cat’s voice, capable of demure purrs or ferocious growls.

Cooper, who wore gray slacks, a herringbone jacket, and a blue-and-gray striped shirt, exhibited all aspects of his musical personality. He was warm, he was volatile, he was emotional, he was vital. He made the music move.

The saxophonist began with bop-era blues, Charlie Parker’s “Billie’s Bounce.” As he played, he adopted the slightly-bent-knee stance he employed throughout the performance in the light-filled ambience of the Anders establishment.

This solo, like the others that followed, was marked by its fluidity. Cooper’s fondness for swing giant Lester Young came through in his use of figures that were more effective for their simplicity than their difficulty, such as a back-and-forth rhythmic alteration of a pair of notes. His admiration for bop maestro Parker came through on intricate statements that rose and fell and zoomed roller coaster-like around curves.

Additionally, the clarity of Cooper’s tone, and the cleanliness of his execution--that is to say, his commanding musicianship--made it all but effortless to hear what he was playing.

A medium-slow take of “Stella by Starlight” found Cooper in cruise mode, working with ease off of Martinis’ steady drive. Here he delivered lines that sped up and slowed down, or he crammed oodles of notes into small spaces, then put space in-between the notes.

The chemistry was immediately apparent between Cooper and the trio of Czimber, the house pianist who plays Thursdays through Saturdays.

Lett and Martinis were a hand-in-glove pair, with Martinis’ accents and Lett’s rhythmically grounded bass lines adding snap and sizzle to the soloist. Czimber accompanied persuasively, contributing a melodic and harmonic buttress to Cooper’s extemporizations.

The pianist, a tasteful modernist who obviously finds the buoyant style of Bill Evans to his liking, soloed with zest. He worked with a medium-light touch that gave his lines a bright shine and he deftly mixed underpinning chords with appealing melodic statements. Czimber’s technique allowed him to dash off crisp, complicated lines, then change directions and tempos suddenly and deliver a soft, somber statement.

After the gents offered a bright-tempo tour through “Green Dolphin Street,” Cooper stepped down and singer Stephanie Haynes joined the proceedings, lending her agile alto to “It Could Happen to You” and three others.

A true jazz vocalist, Haynes, on “It Could Happen,” sang the first chorus pretty much as written and then took off, singing the same words but substantially altering the rhythmic accents like an instrumentalist.

Haynes also gave listeners endearing renditions of Benny Carter’s “Only Trust Your Heart,” where she at times sounded so much like Sarah Vaughan it was eerie, and “This Can’t Be Love,” where she let her blues chops out for all to hear. She remains one of Southern California’s best singers, and, unfortunately, one if its better-kept secrets.