ERIC REVIS, KEN VANDERMARK, JASON MORAN, NASHEET WAITS @ The Jazz Gallery, 8/29/09
AUG 29, 2009 -- MANHATTAN: I have never heard of Eric Revis. Despite his history of playing with some tremendous bandleaders (Betty Carter, Branford Marsalis, Jeff "Tain" Watts, and Steve Coleman to name a few), his name never struck my radar, and though I do my part to see as many shows as a human can, our paths never crossed. These things happen. But it was nice to come in to a show setting with completely fresh ears. I was very familiar with the rest of the band, but to have never even heard of the bandleader is a treat, and made my night all the more enjoyable, and all the more exhausting. Because my unfamiliarity with the leader gave him an ultimate control over me for the loaded 45 minute set. I'm not sure what the specifics are, what makes a band controlling as opposed to being simply present, but I can tell you what it felt like. Revis' set was not one to drift in an out of. The music wouldn't allow it, you could either be hooked, or completely repulsed, and that extremist nature gave the music some serious punch, and the entire audience seemed to be roped in.
Thus begins my description of being held captive by Eric Revis and his cohorts. The performance began with Revis, solo bass. Right off the bat I was struck by his dynamic control of the wooden beast. It's a tough one to manage, and most bassists, even ones I regard as being top notch, often keep in a steady volume range. Revis took the sound to new highs and lows, which might be what first drew me in so steadily. After giving enough space for Revis to breath, the rest of the group gradually entered, Jason Moran on rolling piano swells, Nasheet Waits on deliberate diabolical drum taps, and Ken Vandermark on purposeful, full-bodied tenor saxophone bellows.
The first 25 minutes felt very free. There wasn't a steady groove, or time for a listener to sit on. You could stand on the motions of the band, but you'd be swayed back and forth. The music developed tremendously, but the collective rhythm remained very loose. It brought me to a place I occasionally fall into, where my eyes close and I feel almost smothered by what's happening in front of me. As my eyes were shut, 25 minutes in, the band rocketed into a fast swing, completely together, united in this jolting shift. Seemingly out of nowhere, this change rocked the room. Vandermark entered with a composed melody, the first clear composition of the night. People shouted, swayed and it was like a dark cloud cleared. It was such a cool feeling. That's just one of the many ways the band controlled the willing minds and ears that packed the Gallery. The rest of the set unfolded organically, the swing relenting for a weirder pattern setup by Revis, with Jason Maron showing his face in the forefront every so often to rip apart the roof, then settled back into the fold, while still remaining superactive. Waits is a powerhouse of a drummer, staying true to the force in a strong hit.
After 35 minutes the first epic piece concluded. Revis spoke, and then introduced their closer, a tight rendition of Jelly Roll Morton's "Winin' Boy Blues." The piece, first recorded in 1939, was presented in classic form: the melody in, each player improvised briefly, and then the melody out. The band never repeated an environment, and this new locale was no different. If they can embrace the weird, they can also embrace the traditional, and they can play it all in one set, and you're gonna like it.
