Jazz Review : Rotella Warms Audience by Playing It Cool

When a musician works with subtlety, there’s usually one immediate payback: People don’t talk during the performance; they listen. They aurally lean forward, opening their ears and trying to gather in what the artist on stage is offering.

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Guitarist Thom Rotella, who worked before a full house Saturday night at Randell’s, knows about the value of subtlety. Everything he played in his first set came from a place of understatement, and most people in the room sat quietly, paying attention to what he was doing. His music drew people in; it didn’t push them back. And at the conclusion of his selections, or after one of his multinoted, intriguing solos--often dropped in over a rock-based pulse but crammed with jazz-based activity--generous applause filled the room.

Smart man, that Thom Rotella. And a darned good musician to boot.

True, the 41-year-old native of Niagara Falls, N.Y., worked toward a common denominator, delivering tune after tune that had a lyrical, pop-leaning flavor, or at least a melody that was accessible to the general listener. And these tunes, which crackled with a muscular yet never overbearing rhythmic drive set up by drummer David Dirge, bassist Reggie McBride and percussionist Arnold Lucas, were filled with surprises, which added interest.

Just when you thought there might be a guitar solo after a gentle melody, as on “Bring on the Night,” there came a solo by Bill Cantos on keyboards. Or where the same tune suddenly ended, with an on-the-money tag, right after Rotella’s solo.

The first-set program was built around six natty Rotella originals, several drawn from his three solo albums on DMP Records. These relaxed, pop-tinged, rhythmic selections were augmented by the James Taylor evergreen, “Fire and Rain,” and the snappy ‘50s blues, “Let the Good Times Roll”--made popular by Ray Charles and done here as an engaging shuffle. All these numbers were played with crispness and spark by Rotella’s quintet.

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The guitarist also kept listeners involved by juxtaposing moods.

“Bring on the Night” was perky and bubbly, as was “Best Friends,” while “The Child” was tender, intimate, emotional. “Baka,” though soft and slow, rippled with an undercurrent of energy.

The guitarist’s numbers were arranged so that sections within pieces shifted in feeling, heightening interest and curiosity. For example, “Fire and Rain” moved back and forth from brief solos to statements of the song’s well-worn melody. On “Almare,” Rotella played the melody alone, then was joined by Cantos and McBride, the sound thickening pleasingly.

Except for using an acoustic, gut-stringed guitar for the opening “Almare,” the leader stuck with his Gibson L-4 electric jazz guitar, and emitted a tone that emulated the great Wes Montgomery. This vibrant, glowing sound stood front and center in the renditions, and gave an appealing jazz flavor to even the most rock-based pieces.

“Baka” was the set’s primary guitar feature. The recently composed song is Rotella’s version of the classic Montgomery tune, “Bumpin’ on Sunset,” and was done at a let’s-not-hurry, finger-popping pace.

Over a rhythmic platform that swayed easily, Rotella delivered a typical solo, using body language--he leaned forward and back, bent his knees, closed his eyes, tightened his face into a grimace--while mixing in all manner of listenable, melodic elements.

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There were one-note ideas, bounced back and forth over the bubbling rhythm. There were chunky chords that seemed to emit streams of light. There were long, serpentine-like flurries that led to brief, simpler ideas. This manner of employing what were essentially jazz-based improvisational statements over rock and pop beats gave Rotella’s solos a broad appeal.

Cantos, Lucas, McBride and Dirge brightened the show. Cantos used a gentle touch at his small Korg electronic keyboard, sometimes emitting fat, Hammond B-3 organ-like tones, or shimmering whines. He sang wordless vocals occasionally, the opening to “The Child” being particularly poignant.

Lucas was never at a loss to add color and texture, whapping his congas and bongos heartily, slapping a cymbal, running his fingers down a set of thin chimes to add a glistening sound.

McBride and Dirge understood each other’s sense of time, establishing rock-solid bottom pulses that kept the band ever on track.