Jazz is, perhaps, one of the most intimate and communicative art forms known to humanity. Done well, a performance of jazz music—regardless of locale, time, number of performers or size of audience—creates a dialogue between musician and listener that cannot be replicated.
Julian Bliss and his six tuneful colleagues conducted the conversation in the Ford Center on Thursday night.
Bliss, a twenty-something clarinetist hailing from the UK, gained acclaim first in the classical sphere. But in 2011, he brought together a group of seven musicians to contemplate a completely different genre—the big-band swing jazz of the 1930s and 40s, and particularly the music of Benny Goodman. The septet 2011 album, “A Tribute to Benny Goodman,” explored the whole range of expression available in the repertoire of history’s “King of Swing.”
The group’s seven members include Martin Shaw on trumpet, Lewis Wright on vibraphone, Neal Thornton on piano, Colin Oxley on guitar, Tim Thornton on bass, Ed Richardson on drums and Bliss himself on clarinet. The septet has an undeniable rapport onstage, a comfort that allows the audience to sit back and enjoy their music in the way one might take in a show in a smoky, dim basement dance hall. The point of being audience to such a performance becomes not to sit placidly in the red-upholstered chair and receive an assortment of notes, but rather to absorb. It was impossible, sitting on row B, seat 113 of the Ford Center, not to tap along to the rhythm with a foot, or a pen, or whatever was readily available.
One of the highlights of the evening was the ever-popular “Sing Sing Sing,” which was a hit almost from the moment Benny Goodman’s recording of the tune was made in 1937. But even the original from over seven decades ago pales in comparison to a live rendition. As with all of the pieces performed, each member of the septet was featured for a portion of the song as a soloist. The drums, though, were indisputably the star; “Sing Sing Sing” has a percussive drive that holds together every measure.
The septet performed ballads and uptempo dance numbers in equal turn, showcasing the individuality of each performer with occasional solos and improvisational sections. Each member, without exception, displayed a playful precision in their part; it was at once apparent that they possessed the talent to produce exceptional music and enjoy themselves simultaneously.
And though the music was superb (and even the word superb belies the true talent and sheer joy these men possess), the backbone of the performance was a slightly tongue-in-cheek narration of Benny Goodman’s life, provided by Bliss and Neal Thornton. Most of the numbers were prefaced by a brief explanation of its place in Goodman’s career—whether one of his signature numbers or a piece more often attributed to a competitor—peppered with good humor concerning the temperament and habits of an eccentric virtuoso.
The evening could only have been improved upon by the addition of a dance floor—for the Julian Bliss Septet certainly did a bang-up job transporting the whole theater to a mid-nineteenth century jazz club.
