JAZZ REVIEW : Harrell Is Tops on Horn

Hot young jazz trumpeters are abundant at the moment. Terence Blanchard, Philip Harper and Roy Hargrove all possess astounding technical mastery of their horns. But their playing lacks a certain emotional depth. For a sample of that, they should give a good listen to trumpet and fluegelhorn player Tom Harrell, a few years older and clearly a few wiser. Harrell used his music to access the dark, turbulent recesses of his soul last Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at the Jazz Note in Pacific Beach.

At 45, Harrell is in the prime of his career. His superb new recording, “Passages,” was released in January and features 10 of his own musically complex, emotionally charged tunes. As if his prospering solo career isn’t enough, Harrell is also a member of Mingus Dynasty, an all-star group that pays tribute to Charles Mingus, the late great jazz bassist.

Harrell came from New York City to San Diego alone, without the tight new band that helps his songs soar to ecstatic highs on “Passages.” Saxophonist Joe Lovano is especially vital to the new recording. His tenor and alto take the lead on several tunes, and he and Harrell push each other to some amazing moments.

While it was a disappointment not to be able to hear Harrell with his sextet, the quartet format used at the Jazz Note pressed him to expand his characteristically compact solos. And his bandmates were no slouches: San Diegans Bob Magnusson (bass) and Mike Wofford (piano), plus Los Angeleno Larance Marable, a hard-driving drummer who doesn’t overpower the music’s subtleties.

Visits to the club on both Friday and Saturday nights proved that the group loosened up over the course of the weekend, and that, as is often the case, the later sets each night packed the most punch.

Harrell chose original songs from his several albums, including “Passages,” “Visions” and “Storm,” along with a range of standards, including “On Green Dolphin Street,” Friday night’s climactic closer, and “Rhythm-A-Ning,” a Thelonious Monk composition included on both nights.

It would be easy enough to credit the emotional richness of Harrell’s playing to his personal trials and triumphs. Harrell has been diagnosed with schizophrenia. He sometimes hears voices and takes medication to control the malady. On stage, when he’s not playing, he spends most of his time standing statue-still, looking at his feet. He calls out each new number to the band in a whisper, and doesn’t address the audience, except to introduce his fellow musicians.

But, whatever the contribution Harrell’s complex psyche makes to his music, it is also obvious that he has simply paid his dues. A trumpeter since age 8, he has played in the Big Bands of Stan Kenton and Woody Herman, got his first exposure to a more visceral form of jazz as member of pianist Horace Silver’s Quintet during the 1970s and blossomed in saxophonist Phil Woods’ band during the early 1980s.

Unlike some of the young lions of the trumpet, Harrell has a distinctive sound that mirrors his shy, mysterious presence. You may hear echoes of Blue Mitchell, Clifford Brown or Miles Davis, but Harrell has his own voice. He often favors a breathy, slurry attack, with notes sliding easily along after each other as a musical thought mysteriously slips away or transitions into a new, unexpected idea. Harrell’s playing and composing are technically monstrous, but it’s his hard-driving swing, a rhythmic attack, that moves the music consistently forward.

In Magnusson, Wofford and Marable, Harrell had a band sympathetic to his approach. Wofford and Magnusson are technically gifted players who favor teamwork over egotistical grandstanding. Marable’s rock-steady but polyrhythmically complex timekeeping kept the music constantly simmering, occasionally boiling, at just the right times.

While Harrell’s sidemen never overshadowed their leader, neither did they simply lay dormant. Wofford embellished many of Harrell’s lead lines with bright piano flourishes that ranged from twinkling runs up and down the keyboard to percussive, chordal attacks. Wofford’s solos--which were abundant, long and rewarding--sometimes quoted slyly from all manner of jazz and popular tunes.

Since the demise of Elario’s last year as the San Diego venue for A-list jazz players, the Jazz Note has emerged as the city’s top jazz club. Between its impressive bookings, an intimate, acoustically excellent room, and a no-smoking policy that pleases both fans and players, this place is tough to beat.

Too bad more San Diegans don’t turn up to support it. Friday night’s crowd never topped 30 or so, and even on Saturday night--typically the club’s busiest--there were still several seats available in the 80-seat room.

The Jazz Note will be dark this weekend while owner Steve Satkowski catches his breath, and will light up again the following week with three nights of perennial Jazz Note favorite Papa John Creach.