Shorter’s jazz imagination keeps cruising along at 70

Wayne Shorter is gleefully describing the ocean view from his 27th-floor condo in Miami, Fla.

“In one direction,” he says, “I can look across the water and see the building Whitney Houston and Sophia Loren live in.... Sometimes we see a cruise ship go by, and since you can’t see any horizon, it’s like it’s just floating out there in space.”

It’s been a bit more than two years since Shorter and his wife, Carolina, visited friends in the area and instantly fell in love with the expansive, glass-enclosed aerie that would become their new digs.

“When I walked in,” he recalls, “I said, ‘Uh-oh. Where’s Captain Kirk? I felt like I was in a spaceship. We went back to L.A., and the day after we arrived, we said to each other, ‘You want to move?’ And that was it.”

In that moment, Los Angeles lost the regular presence of one of its preeminent jazz figures. Saxophonist Shorter is widely regarded as a nonpareil original, arguably the most influential living jazz composer.

And with good cause. His creative powers -- like those of Charlie Parker and John Coltrane -- trace to the seamless connection between his improvisations and his compositions. But Shorter moved beyond Parker and Coltrane by creating works -- ranging from impressionistic items such as “Lester Left Town” to stretched-out, melodically motivic pieces such as “Nefertiti,” “E.S.P” and “Footprints” -- which are far more than mere combinations of melody and harmony.

The unique qualities of his music -- with their insistence upon specific chordal voicings, their canny open spaces allowing soloists to soar while providing a cohesive sense of form and structure -- profoundly impacted Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, the Miles Davis Quintet and (via Shorter’s partnership with Joe Zawinul) the groundbreaking fusion group, Weather Report. Shorter’s soloing, which has ranged (and continues to range) from straight-ahead hard bop and freestyle stretching out to funk-driven witticisms, has also offered consistently appealing riches, largely because of his capacity to remain in touch with melody, subtly pulling his listeners into his unfolding improvisational process.

On Wednesday, less than three weeks before he turns 70, Shorter returns to Los Angeles for a celebration of his life and music at the Hollywood Bowl. In addition to his regular quartet -- which includes pianist Danilo Perez, bassist John Patitucci and drummer Brian Blade -- he will be joined by his longtime friend and musical companion, pianist Herbie Hancock, along with guitarist Carlos Santana, dancer Savion Glover and the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra conducted by Nicole Paiement.

Shorter takes a lighthearted view of this star-studded birthday celebration.

“I don’t even think about it,” he says, speaking by phone from his Florida condo, “because I feel like there’s so much to do. I’m drowning in music paper. I call my work room the ‘fun room.’ I don’t like to say, ‘Let’s go in the studio.’ It’s the fun room.”

“Fun” would seem a strange word to associate with a jazz artist whose resume includes so many serious accomplishments. But fun, as in the joy of creativity, is an essential part of Shorter’s personality. Omnivorously curious, he gathers ideas from every imaginable source and synthesizes them into his own imaginative interpretations. Sometimes described affectionately by friends as “Wayne the Brain,” he converses in a way that reflects his jazz solos -- free-floating improvisations in which seemingly random ideas and thoughts coalesce, often unexpectedly, into deeply focused points of view.

Discussing one of his constant fascinations -- old monster movies -- for example, he spins off a recollection of character actors such as Maria Ouspenskaya and Sidney Greenstreet. Shorter’s knowledgeable anecdotes (including a restatement of Ouspenskaya’s famous “Wolfman” curse, for example) eventually lead to an insight connected to his own creative view.

“The thing I get from movies,” he says, “is what to look out for. I look for the chance-taking in certain actors. I look at how, when they’re locked into a situation, the way they perform within that situation, how they break out. The way actors like Brando can’t be harnessed.”

Equally intrigued by science fiction, Shorter has cruised secondhand bookstores in search of offbeat items. Describing an effort to find a particular item from an English outlet, he notes how this experience, as well, relates to his modus operandi.

“The lady told me she’d have to look for it in the cupboard,” he recalls. “And I thought, ‘Hmm, I liked that word -- cupboard. There’s some rhythm in that.’ And when I think about things like that and I’m between projects, that’s the sort of unknown bounce that can trigger something -- an appreciation of people’s lives, their everyday activities, the way they talk and think.

“Because it’s not about me trying to get to Mars, or the thought that I’m going to be special if I find another galaxy that no one else has found. It’s not that. It’s the stuff that people overlook that is the real science fiction. People overlooking each other. It’s not fiction, but I fictionalize it and see if I can” -- and here he lapses into a monster movie-like delivery -- “bring it to life!”

Shorter’s move to Florida is one element in a career revitalization that has been taking place over the past few years. Always a painstaking craftsman who works meticulously to find precisely the right musical solutions, he has nonetheless delivered a prolific series of efforts since the mid- to late ‘90s, including albums such as 1995’s “High Life,” a set of stunning duet performances with Hancock (with whom he also teamed up for the “1 + 1” live album), the establishment of his first regular working band in years (for last year’s “Footprints Live!” album), and a collection of lovely arrangements titled “Alegria” (his most recent CD and his first studio recording since “High Life”).

If there is a single theme that emerges through the free-floating, scattershot aspects of his conversation, it is the insistence that the Hollywood Bowl performance -- despite its anniversary aspects -- will be a present-tense event. Seventy, for Shorter, clearly represents only a number, and his artistic goals remain the same, alive in the moment and directly linked to a philosophical view strongly impacted by his Buddhist beliefs.

“Historically,” he says, “the shadow, which is indicative of the environment, moves, and the body matches the movement of the shadow. You look in the mirror, and the mirror talks to you -- ‘Hey! You’re a little too fat. You’re a little too skinny. Oops. Get rid of that mole. You’d better improve yourself if you’re going to match yourself against someone else.’

“But for what I call human revolution to take place, the body has to bend, and the shadow follows,” he says. “We have been historically subject to our objective environment. And now it’s time for the human being to become objective and the environment to become subjective -- and that applies to the environment of thought too.”

Surveying his 180-degree ocean vista, Shorter laughs for a moment, worried that he might have become a bit too serious. He launches into a sidebar conversation about his fascination with comic-book superheroes.

“I’m checking out the top of my shelves,” he says, “and I see the Daredevil, I see Marvel Comics. I just got a lantern -- [trumpeter] Wallace Roney sent it to me -- that is from the Green Lantern. And I have a Green Lantern ring that lights up.”

But inevitably he turns back to his music, eager to make one final point.

“What I want the music to do,” says Shorter, “is maybe trigger something in people that helps them to remember that they are eternal. To help them remember that when you put your hand on your own eternity, you don’t have to go robbing a bank because you think you only live once. You don’t have to be on trial for something, or go off on Hollywood Boulevard. You don’t have to step on people. Because if you do you’re going to miss the boat.”

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Wayne Shorter: Life and Music

Where: The Hollywood Bowl, 2301 N. Highland Ave., Hollywood

When: Wednesday, 8 p.m.

Price: $5-$40

Contact: (323) 850-2000