“Oh, what a night” it was at SFJazz, where a cohort of consummate masters lavished an incredible performance on a very lucky audience. Zakir Hussein, Bela Fleck, and Rakesh Churasia are all unequaled virtuosos on their respective instruments—tabla, banjo, and Bansuri Indian wood flute—and were artfully assisted by the versatile and accomplished bassist Edgar Meyer.

In addition to the seamless cohesiveness and profound virtuosity of the music, under Zakir’s inclusive leadership the group also entertained the listeners with a relaxed and amusing, almost comedic performance style,
clearly enjoying every minute of their 1½-hour set, often wisecracking to each other between tunes.

You might imagine that the group’s array of instrumentation would be a weird and clashing mix, but actually the opposite was true—a tonal blend that was hauntingly beautiful and even sublime. It was so perfect that at times it was difficult to discern where a sustained note of one instrument ended and another’s began. What also stood out—and this is by no means
a critique—was their interesting, consciously chosen approach to transcend polyphony through the linear unisons of meditative trance music but doing so with masterful hypnotic swing. These rhythmically and harmonically complex synchronizations were dazzling and sometimes even lasted the length of an entire chorus. Also of note was the consciously abrupt finish on several tunes, which occurred in the most unexpected places and was always flawlessly tight.

You might also expect that with a banjo player some of the music would at least give a nod to bluegrass. Not so, and the audience was instead introduced to something exciting and new—contemporary jazz banjo, thanks to the incredibly adroit fingers and wildly inventive musical imagination of Bela Fleck.

As one might expect, this richly textured jazz music was definitely but delicately and deliciously seasoned with Indian spice—somewhat reminiscent of the seminal ’70s group Oregon, with a soupçon of CoDoNa’s engaging, outré aesthetics.

What a musical feast … just had to stay for a second serving!

—ROY STRASSMAN

Juan De Marcos and his exciting Afro-Cuban All Stars graced the Bay Area with a four-night stint at the SFJazz Miner Auditorium, their first in 16 months.

The story begins with 66-year-old bandleader Juan De Marcos-González himself, who, as a young man in his thirties, returned to his fulltime musical career after having already had a successful career in academia—he holds degrees in engineering (with a focus on hydraulics) and Russian and English languages, along with a doctorate in Agronomical Science.

Preferring solid white or dark suits, De Marcos lets his long dreads dangle like string theories below his signature matching beret. He looks like a Beatnik Cuban dandy and jazz hipster rolled into a giant—and lit—doobie.

He is quite the character. So as you might expect, it was a direct-to-the-heart joy to be regaled with fascinating stories of Cuban music by such an eloquently spoken, refined-yet-raw gentleman. When the audience wasn’t busy being astonished, it was roaring with delighted laughter. Some consider Mr. De Marcos to be the Quincy Jones of Cuba—for having modernized the lambent concept of the Cuban son septet with his late-’90s incarnation of Sierra Maestra, in which he played the traditional Cuban six-stringed Tres guitar; for his role as producer for under-recognized Cuban piano legend Rubén González’s first album; and finally for his seminal role in assembling the largely unrecognized aging musical treasures that would soon come to be known as the Buena Vista Social Club—a phenomenon of its time. De Marcos actually had this mission underway independently just weeks before American guitarist/producer Ry Cooder came to Cuba with just such a project in mind.

Turning to the music, the All Stars number 13, and but for his wife, singer Gliciera Abreu, are about half his age. They include his daughters Gliciera Marcos on electric vibes and Lidia Marcos on B-flat and bass clarinets. Lead singer Emilio Suarez is a Latin Fred Astaire who made the ladies swoon with his striking good looks and graceful dance moves. The other musicians were all Cubans, which should say all you need to hear about their musicianship—that is, they were kickin’ it and killin’ it.

They sailed expertly through many genres of Cuban music, including son, danzón, mambo, bolero, rumba, salsa, and even timba. When they began the son classic, “Lagrimas Negras” (Black Tears), with a salsa feel, the crowd instantly leapt to its mambo feet, and remained there while Messrs. De Marcos and Suarez danced suavely with female patrons, not only on the floor but even well up into the amphitheater’s aisles.

The show continued and finally concluded after more than two hours with the BV Social Club hit “Chan Chan.” These Cuban masters certainly know how to whip up a crowd, bringing the audience into paroxysms of joy, unity, camaraderie, and love. This audience turned out to be one of the most wildly enthusiastic that this reviewer has ever had the great pleasure to join.

—ROY STRASSMAN

The Spring Quartet may well have sprung just for this gig, but let me be the first to raise my glass. The musicians took the stage unceremoniously, but the audience’s electric anticipation could have powered the whole city. Amidst the other three luminaries already in the jazz pantheon, the lesser-known Leo Genovese seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere—by way of Argentina. Before the set, few in the audience or even on the staff knew who he was. More about him later.

Some of the performance included spring-themed jazz standards such as “I’ll Remember April,” “Joy Spring,” “Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most,” and “It Might as Well Be Spring.” Intermixed were the band members’ fine self-penned tunes. Esperanza had written a gripping song-poem entitled “Nature,” a peevish but plangent—and courteously sarcastic—tirade against greedy and often faceless titans of the music industry.

The musicianship was stellar, with DeJohnette being a Paul Motian-like fine wine, Lovano being avuncularly hip, and Esperanza being, well, Esperanza. The big surprise of the evening was pianist Leo Genovese. At first he just seemed to fit in appropriately enough, but then he damn near knocked me off my chair once he began to solo. Influenced by no less than Cecil Taylor, McCoy Tyner, and the formidable Andrew Hill, his playing was creatively ablaze and his technique dazzling. Like a just-launched rocket, he would seemingly depart from the tune’s atmosphere and even ionosphere, squiggling and quiggling off, deep into an outer orbit, only later to return to the groove—and landing with lethal force reminiscent of McCoy’s left hand. He is an exciting player, devastatingly fluent in irregular and disjointed time-shifting figures executed with flawless technique.

Then there is Esperanza, in a league and a galaxy all her own, a 34-year-old magical child and prodigy who is supremely effortless in her playing and singing. Nothing gets in the way of her brilliant channel and energies. Sporting a slanted Afro and dressed in an all-white cotton jumpsuit with a crimson heart on the sleeve, she was a joyful angel-in-motion, but one driving the soul train. Her natural body movements were lithe and blithe, and her ever-changing facial expressions beckoned us to share in the experience of her transcendent musical spirit.

—ROY STRASSMAN

The SF Symphony is not only a world-class orchestra, it also plays some of the most eclectic and wide-ranging music to be found. I always marvel at what terrific combinations of music they consistently put together. This evening’s program was delightfully on point. Pavane for a Dead Princess and Scheherazade are two perfect works that would appear any in decent library or survey of classical music.

Ravel’s elegiac Pavane was especially poignant in that it was performed a mere two days after the devastating conflagrat ion at Notre Dame—with our grief still fresh. It is a short but emotionally stirring piece, and I believe its beauty—as with most music—can be fully captured and experienced only during a live performance. Ravel’s expertly performed Piano Concerto, while unfamiliar to me, garnered an explosive standing ovation from the audience.

After intermission came la piéce de résistance, Rimsky-Korsakov’s magnum opus Scheherazade, based on pictures from the tales in One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. The rich, multi-faceted performance was rapturous, transporting me into a state of peace and exhilaration.

The visiting Australian conductor, Simone Young, was quite animated, and as far as I could tell—not knowing how to evaluate conductorship—admirably up to the task. Her broad, sweeping, yet refined movements virtually sang the music. Also, she appeared to be a no-nonsense kind of person, well suited to her conducting style for the evening. She was deftly definitive.

If your mind needs soothing—and whose doesn’t?—by all means get yourself to the SF Symphony. You will easily find a concert to your liking, and it will lift your spirits.

—ROY STRASSMAN

Life depends on inspiration, and both these performances provided a perfect opportunity to breathe it in. Can you believe that Herbie Hancock actually subbed for Wayne Shorter—out with an illness—so that the show could go on? The band was comprised of Shorter’s usual teammates, Danilo Peréz on keys, John Pattitucci on bass, and the ever-astounding Brian Blade on the drum set—in addition to guests: trumpeter and bandleader Terrence Blanchard, and Terrace Martin on occasional tenor sax and vocal effects.

The two-hour set consisted almost exclusively of Shorter’s numerous excellent compositions including his signature “Footprints,” “Nefertiti,” and “Sanctuary.” Herbie delivered the coup de grâce when while playing Shorter’s “Supernova,” he strapped a melodium around his neck and shot the groove into hyperspace, wailing luminously all the way.

The Azar Lawrence Experience was its own celestial comet as it descended to Earth for a recent one-nighter at Yoshi’s. As an heir apparent to the early ’60s Coltrane legacy, Azar was the tenor/soprano player McCoy Tyner used after ‘Trane’s passing. Azar, now based in L.A., has crafted a distinct-sounding octet comprised of choice L.A. thoroughbreds. Sartorially understated in a hip dark three-piece suit with opaque darker rectangular shades and a patterned black leather Egyptian Kufi cap, Azar spontaneously onnected with the enthusiastic near-sellout Monday night crowd—perhaps partially obscuring his estimable skills as a composer/arranger and incognito spiritual master. His engaging set not only fulfilled his stated mission of bringing love, peace, and joy, it also left one with the well-sated feeling of having consumed a five-star repast of supremely healthy food but with just the right juicy thigh of hot Southern fried chicken.

—ROY STRASSMAN

Pianist/composer and leader apparent Danilo Pérez, Israeli trumpeter/composer Avishai Cohen, renowned reedman and composer Chris Potter, Larry Grenadier (one of New York’s “go to” bassists), and attentive drummer Nate Smith gave a performance dedicated to iconic women, ironically delivered by an all-male band. One of the evening’s higherthan-high points was Cohen’s magnificent three-movement symphony “Innovation: Africa”— dedicated to Sivan Ya’ari, founder of the eponymously named project that has brought food, power, and water to more than 160 million Africans—that culminated in a hairsingeing blaze. Cohen’s use of beauteous long, sweeping phrases instantly made me a lifelong fan of his playing. He then offered a thoughtful and beautifully declaimed reading/translation of Israeli poet Zelda’s untitled poem on the subject of departure/death. The final two pieces were Pérez’s musical rendering of works by Maya Angelou and Angela Davis.

This performance will forever stand out. I was awed not only by the compositional daring, mold-breaking arrangements, and superb musicianship, but also by each musician’s exquisite sensitivity to the works of his fellow travelers, fostering some of the most incredible interplay ever. I pray that this spontaneously formed band congeals into a new force in jazz.

—BY ROY STRASSMAN

MacArthur “Genius” Fellow and alto-saxophonist/composer John Zorn is a gravitational wave—the ultra-high-energy phenomenon theorized by Einstein a century ago, and finally first observed by scientists last year—in human form.

G-waves curve space and warp time, and so it is with the wildly creative Zorn, whose seminal and prolific output spans several genres, many of which are considered avant-garde. Additionally, he does soundtracks and backgrounds for literature, poetry, and film.

From countdown to splashdown, the musicians voyaged the audience through his universe of richly textured, highly kinetic ministrations—replete with squeaks, sighs, squeals, and sheets of sound—while Bill Laswell, a renowned rock/experimental bassist in his own right, provided the slower moving atmospherics to co-create tension and discharge in the music. As is his custom, Zorn dressed in comfortable variegated fatigues, T-shirt, and Converses—with Hasidic “tsitsis” strings hanging from his hips.

The set lasted an all-too-brief hour. Afterward, the audience instantly bounded to its feet in ardent appreciation, strongly desirous of an encore. Eventually Zorn looked over to Laswell and back to the audience, and with a knowing nod, indicated that they had left it all on the bandstand and were done. Wow!

—ROY STRASSMAN

SF Symphony conductor Michael Tilson Thomas—or MTT as he is known in the classical music world—in his final year with the Symphony made an auspicious announcement when he told the audience that the program would be recorded. Yay for posterity!

The evening began with Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto, a piece evolved according to the 12-tone chromatic scale principles of the “Tone Row”—a concept Berg learned from composer Arnold Schoenberg. This wonderful performance was marred only by the fact that soloist Gil Shaham was difficult to distinguish from the rest of the orchestra.

Then, after intermission began Mahler’s lengthy and powerful symphony, with each of its five movements creating a unique parallel universe. Evoking splashing outbursts of riotous colors coursing through this reviewer’s body, it was at once stunning, elegant, graceful—and surprising, in that its mood shifts seemed to comprise the full range of human emotions. At times the orchestra came across as a choir of angels. At others it came off as a ferocious beast—then as a lugubrious chorus.

By the time the performance reached its ecstatic conclusion it felt as though Mahler’s symphony under MTT’s direction had subsumed all of creation. The entire sold-out audience, knowing it had experienced a priceless musical gift, shot to its feet with deafening applause. Needless to say I anticipate this special recording!

—ROY STRASSMAN

Vijay Iyer, a musical force majeure, has been breaking new ground not only in the sharpened realm of cutting-edge jazz, but also wherever his musical gaze happens to alight. Previously reviewed in this column two years ago, his music has traversed mega-parsecs and numerous galaxies since then.

Iyer, a Yale graduate in mathematics and physics, also holds an interdisciplinary PhD in Technology and the Arts from UC Berkeley. In addition to his music-making career, he is a chaired professor of music at Harvard. He has won numerous awards and accolades as a musician, composer, bandleader, and educator—among them a MacArthur “genius” grant.

This evening featured four evocative duets on two opposing Steinways. All seemed to have some sort of pre-arranged motif—loosely defined. The first duo was Iyer and Kris Davis—a highly sought-after Canadian avantgarde pianist. They began by exchanging soft, sparse single-note lines upon which they kept building until reaching a climax, then dénouement and closing.

The other three duets, all uniquely engaging, were similarly structured, though the interplay differed vastly throughout. The dazzling second duo featured Davis and acclaimed critics’ favorite pianist/composer Craig Taborn.

Iyer and Taborn reigned for the remaining duets. The contrast between their styles was dramatic, but exquisitely balanced. Tabor favors block chords, using his whole body to mount a fierce attack reminiscent of McCoy Tyner’s left hand tours de force. Iyer always electrifies when he channels his inner Cecil Taylor.

Vijay Iyer is proving to be a watershed musical voice in this still-young century; his works have already effected a break with many traditional jazz structures. Only Coltrane so greatly changed the course of jazz—and that was nearly 60 years ago. Iyer is a young giant and still growing. Don’t miss him!

—ROY STRASSMAN

Beginning last August and continuing into February, City Arts & Lectures is hosting an incredible series of writers, thinkers, cultural figures, and various artists. This highly anticipated evening featured Ta-Nehisi Coates, zeitgeist writer for The Atlantic, in conversation with his friend and Atlantic staff writer Alexis Madrigal. Coates’s most recent release is a collection of essays titled We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy. Many consider Coates the current laureate in that esteemed black literary lineage that most recently included the great James Baldwin, and Coates’s work is reminiscent of Baldwin’s.

Madrigal began the evening asking Coates about his writing process, to which he replied, “You must first always be excited!” (That right there is inspiration for inspiration!) He then weighed in on the effects of his upbringing and former poverty: “You need to stay on the edge to be hot. You can’t be too comfortable.” Later, while talking about his own musical inspirations, he mentioned hip-hop and its syncopated poetic lyrics, his paragon being LL Cool J.

He touched on many topics, but white privilege was always central.

He said that gentrification, which forces many of the poor to flee their homes, is nothing more than one current manifestation of white privilege. He said that white privilege pervades virtually every aspect of modern life in the US, and always has.

—ROY STRASSMAN