SEPT 23, 2009 --GRAMERCY: There are a multiple tiers of venues to see live jazz in New York City. The defining factor tends to be ticket price, and with a higher price comes a more organized, dinner seating. The Jazz Standard is one of the higher tiered clubs, with a $20-35 ticket price and a knack for great programming, it's a top spot to see a show, but it takes a minute to get used to a room with the pretense of a higher ticket price, dinner being served, and an actual sound system. Sometimes bands play the space that don't seem quite right for that environment, and it's always interesting to see how it plays out. Such was the case with the Matt Wilson quartet, a fantastic assemblage of musicians who don't perform nearly enough. Wilson is a drummer and composer who harnesses his immense talent and humor in equal lights, which by nature makes a room with as little pretense as possible an ideal situation, so that people who come to see Matt Wilson can really see Matt Wilson.
Things felt a little off from the get go, as the band began to a half-filled room with waitresses moving about. The music quickly transcended the environment , with Wilson's strong, stimulating yet simple compositions bringing up the energy in the room, which was then supported by the rest of the band, Andrew D'Angelo on alto saxophone, Jeff Lederer on tenor saxophone, and Chris Lightcap on bass, who punched the room hard from the start with a crunchy electric bass tone, later moving to the upright.
Being the final set of a two night run at the Jazz Standard, Matt declared their final number to be a special piece, his tribute to heavy metal titled "Schoolboy Thug." Humor in the room had already been running high, but things took to a whole new level, beginning with the two horns shielding Wilson from the audience as they raised his cymbal stands two feet higher, and parted to reveal Wilson in a giant, curly black wig. Needless to say, things only got better from there.
As a quick aside, let me say that the Matt Wilson Quartet produces wonderful music, and deserves much of your time. But the rest of this review will not have much to do with the music. It will be more of a play by play, depicting one band's tremendous effort to take a space that many bands come in and out of, and make it their own. Back to our regularly scheduled programming...
"Schoolboy Thug" was metal indeed, equipped with honking horns, driving bass, and Wilson's grand attempts at twirling his drumsticks as often as possible, coupled by his facetious missteps in stick-spinning. Andrew D'Angelo ripped apart a solo, spending most of the improvisation on his knees, whipping his horn around. At the highest point in volume, D'Angelo shouted across the stage to Lederer, and threw his saxophone 10 feet into the tenor player's arms. Thus beings acts that were truly a first for the Jazz Standard. Free from the restraints of his horn, Andrew D'Angelo grabbed a full glass of water and dumped it on himself. Soaking, kicked a music stand over, sending music flying, and made his way through the club, going from table to table, drinking from everyone's drinks as the band continued to freak out on stage. It was like being in an alternate dimension. It was awesome.
During the madness, the club staff watched with amusement, I send them all my regards for approving of such a significant change of pace and taste. But much more was to come. As the laughter and sound subsided from D'Angelo's lap around the room, Wilson stood up and began the portion of the piece entitled "the birth of a rock star," when, in a British accent, he describes his London birth, the birth of a rock star, then "births" himself between two drum sticks, making a "birthing" face during the process. Let your imaginations do the work on that one. Fast-forward to a drum solo and a group vocal shout chorus later and D'Angelo and Lederer are closing out the night, wailing independently, inching closer to each other, eventually linking arms as they play and being more and more pretzeled in a ridiculous feat of improvisation / performance art. Then it was over. People paid their checks, tipped the wait staff, and left. It was something we all shared; something that we can never unsee and unhear. Never forget, 9/23/09.
