JAZZ REVIEW : A Rich Uncle: Festive, Fun, Astute

For the most part, pop/jazz is an aesthetic wasteland. So many of the top-selling contemporary groups from the genre hit their audiences with tunes that have the kind of sappy, three-notes-up-and-back melodies you hear on TV jingles, and the rhythmic oomph of a yawn.

But then there’s Uncle Festive.

Led by keyboardist Ron Pedley, the quartet played Saturday night at Randell’s and proved that pop/jazz can be astute and intelligent--not to mention fun.

Each selection--from “Sit and Spin,” the second set’s medium slow opener, to “Incognito” with its big band be-bop bite--sported an intriguing melody that started in one place and arrived gradually at another. These melodies, and the subsequent solid solos by Pedley and guitarist Ken Berry, were underpinned by crisp, bracing rhythm from bassist Dean Taba and drummer Randy Drake.

This was plain good jazz, whatever the genre.

Given the classy elan with which these fellows played, it was surprising to learn that the 8-year-old L.A.-based band was playing its first engagement in about 18 months (Pedley has been touring with such pop figures as Barry Manilow) and that Berry and Taba were subs. Though they were reading charts, the musicians played with an appealing tightness that made it sound as if they had been working together for months if not years.

There was a pleasing variety in the tunes offered, all of which were composed by Pedley except for “The Last Man,” co-written with guitarist John Pondel. Many were culled from the band’s latest Bluemoon album, “Drive Down the Sun.”

Some, like the gently moving “Sit and Spin,” were psychological in bent. The number has a two-faced melody: At first it seems simple and pretty, but it segues to a slight undertone of sadness that comes from subtle minor chords and gives the piece a richer poignancy. You could imagine it as the theme of a French film in which a young woman struggles with her direction in life--stuck in a rut, perhaps, as the title suggests.

Other numbers--such as “Bob,” named for Pedley’s cat--were more fanciful and carefree, but that’s not to say the composer just knocked off a line and was done with it. He took the melody, made up of of small snippets, and moved it up, down and around, turning it the way you might look at a jewel in the light to reveal all its facets, or the way a cat might look at an object he was encountering for the first time.

The selections were driven by simultaneously surging and sensitive back beats from Drake, who locked in deftly with Taba. Pedley, meanwhile, never stopped surprising listeners. Playing electronic synthesizers, he issued a continually shifting panorama of tones, sounding like everything from an acoustic grand piano and a Fender Rhodes electric to an electronic version of a jazz orchestra. And his solos were first rate, each played craftily and building to numerous climaxes, telling musical stories.

“Sit and Spin” found him employing that grand piano sound and going from brief, bluesy phrases to gushes of notes--a pile of leaves blown by a sudden gust of wind. During “The Reveal,” he played sparse figures to echo the tune’s quirky melody, then dropped in sprays of notes and chunky, hammered chords that made you sit straight up. “Incognito” was a platform for his be-bop wares; his lines were full of natty embellishments and curving, lunging statements.

Berry added plenty of punch. His inventive solos delivered a wide spectrum of tones--some as wide as paint from a roller, and as popping as a live wire loose on the ground.

It’s too bad that circumstances have kept Uncle Festive out of the limelight. Pedley obviously has the creativity and musical acumen to make a name for the band and to provide the kind of inspiration that keeps major leaguers on their toes.