JAZZ REVIEW : Genial Host Sandoval Excels When He Gets Down to Business

Arturo Sandoval called up the ghost of Dizzy Gillespie, his mentor, at the Orange County Performing Arts Center on Friday night and then threw what amounted to a rousing, Latin-flavored musical party in honor of the late great trumpet player. The approach was most appropriate considering that Gillespie’s 78th birthday was the following day, and that he just had been given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Not surprisingly, the best part of Sandoval’s performance was when he played Gillespie’s music. The raucous mix that followed, dressed with plenty of showmanship and audience participation, had less substance and musicality than the opening tribute.

Which is not to say that Sandoval’s frequent nods to his Latin roots weren’t invigorating. Backed by a quintet, he played with vitality and irrepressible spirit, not only on his trumpet but on piano and timbales as well. Hints of his classical side surfaced here and there, and he made a moving, Spanish-inflected statement in honor of his grandparents.

But at times, when he was leading the crowd in call-and-response singing, or horsing around with his band mates, one couldn’t help but feel that the man was wasting time and that he should pick up his horn and do what he does best.

There were plenty of moments when he did just that. Gillespie’s “Tanga” soared on furiously played lines that stretched off endlessly in an impressive display of breath and control. Sandoval’s muted tones during “Sauvito” squirmed from his trumpet like live, glistening creatures. Playing “Caravan,” his trumpet fairly soared.

His keyboard medley--a florid, impressive display--roared and shimmered through themes ranging from “The Windmills of Your Mind” and Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony to ragtime treatments of “(Yes Sir) That’s My Baby” and “As Time Goes By.”

Still, weighted with dense, technical displays, the piano solo mirrored Sandoval’s desire to impress at the cost of musical rewards. On trumpet, taking a page from the Maynard Ferguson book, he squeezed off amazing high notes, sometimes with his band members urging him on. He blubbered out impossible low notes, often in a meaningless progression, as if only to show that he could hit them.

His trumpet solo based on the changes from “Cherokee” contained examples of both extremes framing an otherwise impressively rich and expressive improvisation. It was as if he felt he needed to prove his prowess.

With a string of albums, frequent live performances, a history with the Cuban ensemble Irakere and his stint with Gillespie’s United Nations Orchestra to his credit, Sandoval’s reputation as a technician long has been secure. Now he should concentrate on letting his art show through.

His backup band, led by musical director and saxophonist Kenny Anderson, provided a bland backdrop for Sandoval. Anderson’s tenor play came from the modernist, Michael Brecker school, making for stark contrast with Sandoval’s more passionate sound. Pianist Felix Gomez seemed to shrink after Sandoval’s powerful display at the keyboard. Bassist Dave Enos was dependable, if not inventive. Only percussionist Manuel Egui Castrillo and drummer Willie Jones III (from the band Black/Note) worked up to the trumpeter’s level.

There were many magical moments during the long set (Sandoval’s deep expressions during “A Mis Abuelos,” along with those already mentioned) but next time, Arturo, leave the pretensions behind.

*

Poncho Sanchez’s opening set with guest saxophonist Eddie Harris was, by contrast, completely without pretension. The good-natured conguero and his seven-piece ensemble put the emphasis on percussion as they played salsa, cha-cha and mambo rhythms.

Harris, whose playing in the past few years has lacked his old soulful fire, made his best outing in recent memory. His glowing, oval tones had that characteristic Harris glide as he slid in and out of upper-register cries during Mongo Santamaria’s “Afro-Blue.” He added warmth and intimacy to Harold Land’s “Rapture,” and when it came time to play his own medley-anthem, “Cold Duck Time,” he punctuated the soulful riff with flowing, dance-like phrases, dropping in a bit of his classic “Freedom Jazz Dance” in seamless fashion.