Holman’s Sweet 16 Big Band Comes Up Larger Than Life

Here’s a musical riddle: When is a big band bigger than a big band?

When it’s the Bill Holman Band.

Count and count again Sunday at Steamers Cafe in Fullerton and the number came up the same: 16 players on the bandstand in front of the 71-year-old bandleader, composer and arranger. But close your eyes and the music sounded as if it came from 20 or more pieces. There were moments when the sound seemed grandly symphonic.

The reason? The ensemble’s large sound results from its peerless leader’s arrangements. Not content with three- and four-part harmonies or with establishing predictable riffs behind a soloist, Holman complicates things with multiple harmonies, throwing lines from different instruments back and forth against the melody, sometimes within instruments of the same section, and interweaving counterpoints that arrive with a feeling of deja vu.

At times--notably during a few measures of Thelonious Monk’s “Misterioso,” as the rhythm section sat quiet--each of the 13 horns seemed to be doing something different.

Playing before a packed house that included high-school band students and longtime fans who’d seen Holman play saxophone with the Stan Kenton Orchestra more than 45 years back, the group highlighted the arranger’s ear for detail and unusual instrumental combinations. That it all came together in bright and enlightening ways is a tribute to Holman’s craft.

That it’s not an easy craft to execute was demonstrated when Holman fired up a new tune, his “Two Faces of Wilard,” then snuffed the band after a few measures and tried it again.

“Wilard” showed just how exacting the charts and the conductor could be. The tune opened with Putter Smith’s bass setting up musings from pianist Christian Jacob before flute and clarinets melded alternately ascending and descending lines.

Drummer Bob Leatherbarrow’s snare march under a brass fanfare served as a turning point for ambitious solos from fluegelhornist Steve Huffsteter and tenor saxophonist Pete Christlieb.

“Misterioso” opened on a funky trumpet-section warble before Jacob brought out the tune’s blues leanings. At its close, Monk’s theme, with its built-in stairstep counterpoints, was given an even thicker harmonic treatment. Even on what was perhaps the simplest arrangement of the first set, Monk’s “Ruby, My Dear,” Holman kept the horns busy under trumpeter Bob Summers’ pleading improvisation.

The ensemble included the cream of Southern California musicians, some of whom go back to Holman’s days in the Kenton band. Saxophonists Christlieb, Bill Perkins, Kim Richmond and baritone saxophonist Bob Efford all delivered sterling solos, as did valve trombonist Bob Enevoldsen and trombonist Andy Martin. The trumpet section--Carl Saunders, Huffsteter, Summers and Frank Szabo--were uniformly excellent. Jacob, Smith and Leatherbarrow took charge in individual solo moments.

For his part, Holman gave minimal direction, often poised off to the side of the band or standing in front of it, hands clasped and head bowed, as he listened to a soloist. Before introducing the group, Holman called it “the best band in the world.” Playing his charts, they just might be.