JAZZ REVIEW : New Spices in an Old-Time Musical Menu

The Preservation Hall Jazz Band is changing.

The New Orleans-based septet, which performed Friday at the Irvine Barclay Theatre, has always been able to deliver a sumptuous spread of 1920s and ‘30s jazz, Crescent City-style. But these days its members also slip in an occasional modernism in the form of, say, a be-bop-era lick tucked deftly into a rollicking, authentic two-beat feel.

Heresy, some purists might shout.

But this liberal attitude flavors the ensemble’s palette with additional musical colors that, to some ears, make it all the more appealing.

On Friday, leader and trumpeter Wendell Brunious indulged in this cross-genre-ism when, on the opening “Hindustan,” he slyly dropped in jagged phrases that Dizzy Gillespie might have played. Later, in the evocative “Georgia on My Mind,” he surprised listeners with a catchy, upward-moving line that Quincy Jones wrote for a band that backed Ray Charles. Elsewhere, pianist Rickie Monie sometimes sounded like Erroll Garner when he delivered broad, ringing chords, and drummer Joe Lastie Jr. played a solo that recalled the manner of that famed hard bopper, Art Blakey.

Still, there wasn’t so much of this stuff that the group abandoned its central style. “I try to keep it pretty close to the line,” Brunious said backstage at intermission. Indeed, it was the fact that the trumpeter could fit modern phrases within a generally traditional jazz setting that made his work all the more impressive.

Another seemingly incongruous aspect of the Preservation Hall band is that, although the group is a democratic ensemble where solo space is doled out evenly and no one player is supposed to stand out over the others, Brunious is clearly the star.

His partners are a solid bunch. Clarinetist Dave Grillier’s tone ranged from warm to reedy with a wealth of ideas, some with hearty rhythmic punch, others as complex as the edges of a lace tablecloth. Monie got a rich sound from his instrument and displayed a dandy bluesy touch, while trombonist Frank Demond played round and juicy notes, and others crisp and separated like a row of row of soldiers at attention. Banjoist Narvin Kimball, bassist Benjamin Jaffe and drummer Lastie were no slouches either.

But Brunious was a cut above the rest. Like one of his idols, the great Louis Armstrong, he’s a superb musician who can hear a choice note coming a mile away, and his singing, swinging lines lit up the stage. Whether he was playing a slow number like “Basin Street Blues” or an upbeat piece like “Bourbon Street Parade,” each of Brunious’ solos crafted chains of delightfully melodic ideas underpinned with rhythmic charge. His tone could be bold and pure--he popped out ceiling-high notes at will--or subdued and conspiratorial.

Either sitting with his back straight or standing, when he bent his knees and moved his body with his phrases, Brunious played with his eyes closed and his head cocked slightly upward, as if he was simply taking dictation from a higher source.

Demond and Grillier offered a splendid contrast to Brunious, and when the three soloed simultaneously--during the so-called shout choruses that climaxed each number--they each found notes that the others weren’t playing, giving the band a fat, happy sound.

Kimball was outstanding on three vocals, singing in a high tenor that gleamed. The rhythm section was a tireless crew that gave the other musicians a pulsing platform to work from.

As always, the band closed its high-spirited show with “When the Saints Go Marching In” and a crowd (close to 100 from the packed house) sashaying through the hall with some of the musicians, ending up on the stage for a spirited finale.