The Oberlin Review
<< Front page Arts November 18, 2005

Oberlin Jazz Septet Wows the Crowd
 
Septet’s sax: Butler contributed an original tune to the Septet’s setlist last Saturday.
 

Last Saturday night, the Oberlin Jazz Septet performed a Parents’ Weekend concert before a large, diverse and exuberant crowd at Finney Chapel.

Concertgoers who enjoyed the performance may not, however, have known the story behind the Septet. Every year, each faculty member of the Conservatory jazz department recommends a student from his studio to join the Septet, a top-level performance ensemble that represents the best of the department. Thus the instrumentation of the ensemble is the same every year, for better or for worse, regardless of group dynamics or stylistic inclinations.

Because of its high-profile position, the group also sometimes finds itself performing in situations that are politically charged, but, as junior trumpeter Theo Croker said, “As musicians, it’s important for us to learn to operate politically — and within the structure of politics. You can’t just stand on top of the building and yell the truth; you’ve got to get inside the politics and work from inside. It’s like a virus. You’ve got to get inside the body and then spread.”

Despite particular differences in style, this year’s Oberlin Jazz Septet has come together remarkably. Its members form a collective of individuals — cohesion without the erasure of identities. The ensemble consists of senior Curtis Ostle on bass, junior Charles Foldesh on drums, sophomore Sullivan Fortner on piano, senior Johnny Butler on tenor saxophone, junior Theo Croker on trumpet and senior Allie Bosso on trombone. The group has already been on tour this year in late August and plans to take another tour during Winter Term.

“It’s one of the most professional, cohesive bands I’ve been in. I think the faculty enjoys selecting the group and it’s always an interesting combination,” Croker said.

The concert on Saturday night started 15 minutes late, but what followed was well worth the wait. Opening with “Señor Blues,” Horace Silver’s funky, triplet-based composition, the ensemble played with a hip blues sensibility, steeped in hard bop.

Foldesh’s slick drumming brought a distinctly rhythm and blues flavor to the piece, giving and taking, egging on the soloists, and each time building up to a climax and release just as the level of invention had become intolerable. His infinite repertoire of sleazy facial expressions and periodic verbal outcries also gave the piece much of its character.

Fortner took a particularly compelling solo in which he began with call and response between two voices in different registers of the piano, and then developed into an almost fugue-like proliferation of imitation.

The band continued with Johnny Butler’s unconventional composition “Wayne Dance,” followed by “Twelve’s It,” an Ellis Marsalis tune that seemed to lose direction at the beginning of the solos.

The form of the song was often unclear, and Bosso’s solo seemed unaware of it, resorting to long, arhythmic tones. Fortner, however, began his solo by picking up the pieces and reuniting them. He simmered enigmatically while Foldesh baited him with call after call, until Fortner finally gave the response, arriving at a stunning culmination.

Croker then announced that the next song would “feature [their] pianist. [Their] solo pianist.” Fortner had evidently only been notified of this decision to feature him on “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?” at that moment.

“It was a complete surprise. [Theo] had told me like a few seconds ago,” Fortner said. “Theo’s going to get it. Me and Andrew have really got it in for him. Tell Theo to get ready.”

Croker was proud of his decision for the piano solo.

“Those dynamics in the band — that’s what makes it more fun, that’s what makes it worth getting up for. It’s about challenging each other, and I know Sullivan is going to hit me back for that,” he said.

Alone on stage, Fortner took a moment to compose himself. He then began with a moody introduction, filled with murky dissonance and turmoil. Out of this brooding introduction appeared the melody, in classic stride style, simple and nostalgic, like a break in the clouds. In that moment, Fortner transported the audience to New Orleans’s heyday, a time when you could hear that kind of music floating out of a window, played on an old upright piano.

“It was kind of like, ‘here we are now, New Orleans is flooded.’ But it wasn’t until afterward that I realized maybe I was trying to get some water imagery and then it cleared up and then there was the melody. That song has a little sad kind of vibe to it, but it still makes me happy to remember the way the city was. And that’s how the city was, you know — a little sad, but always like, ‘We’re gonna make it,’” he said.

There was more than nostalgia in Sullivan’s interpretation, however. He upped the ante by occasionally launching into an Art Tatum-style run from the top to the bottom of the piano, frequently adding gospel and spiritual touches to his stride voicings, and actually going into double time at one point. The reintroduction of the melody alternated between sweet nostalgic statements and more forceful, jarring and angular responses in the bass notes.

Fortner’s performance of this tune, whose title has acquired a sad irony in light of recent events, spoke deeply to the physical and emotional chaos that New Orleans is experiencing, to the spiritual power of its people and, perhaps most vividly, to the strong, conflicted emotions that stir deep both beneath and beyond the floodwaters.

“I just feel honored to be selected, really humbled, that people thought about me to play in this group with these people,” he said.

The Septet returned to the stage to close its set with its funky, collective arrangement of another song that has come to evoke images of New Orleans — Thelonious Monk’s “Green Chimneys.” This tune, a simple 32-bar form that has only two tonal centers, put the individual style of each player into stark relief. Butler’s solo, for example, frequently stepped outside of the chords, interpolating Coltrane-esque habits and other harmonic inventions, resulting in some positively whacked-out swing. Butler has a practice of leering into the microphone with his saxophone.

“I always hear that stuff with this band; I want to take it way out,” he said.

Bosso also played a strong, albeit entirely different, solo on this tune, repeating funky blues fragments again and again in different rhythmic and harmonic contexts.

Croker began his solo with a chorus played in quasi-muted half-tone. He then blew the lid off several choruses, conversing at a high level with Foldesh’s drumming.

Conklin’s solo stood out from everything else played that night. He began with playing the area of strings past the nut and bridge of his guitar, where they sound in high-pitched harmonics. He then proceeded to attack his guitar, wailing on aggressive, chunky chords up and down the fretboard.

“‘Green Chimneys,’” Conklin said, “is [a tune] that we’ve played more than any other, and it brings out differences in approach and style more than any other song. It’s malleable, it’s easy to interpret. People tend to take it in their own direction. In a way, it’s a testament to the song.”

The crowd was standing at the end of the set, pounding their feet and demanding an encore, which the Septet provided with a quick and concise rendition of Croker’s arrangement of “Softly as in a Morning Sunrise.”
 
 

   

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