Drydock 141520-4514
Cheers to vibraphonist James Shipp and company
for providing me with the easiest-to-write-about disc
I've encountered in a while.
This isn't the first "new standards" disc I've
reviewed — that honor goes to Bobby Broom's Stand from
2001. However, by dealing with rock, and primarily
alt-rock, Shipp explores riskier terrain than Broom's
pop/funk bag, and his liner notes make clear that
Shipp has a mission. In the early decades of jazz,
there came to be a commonly accepted set of
"standards," a collection of Broadway songs which
every jazz player knew and used as a template for his
artistry. By around the early '60s, though, the
bridge which pop songs crossed to become standards was
broken, and few songs have jumped the chasm since
then. Loving jazz but wanting to deal with the music
of his time, Shipp, with a sextet in tow, seeks to
make standards out of songs from Nirvana, Soundgarden
and the like.
It's a noble goal, at least in the hands of someone
who genuinely likes this material rather than, say,
Herbie Hancock and his songs-picked-for-rather-than-by-the-musicians New
Standard crew. However, there are a lot of historical
hurdles here, and Shipp doesn't quite clear all of
'em.
Those old songs were different vessels than the rock
compositions of today, which tend to be much more
identity-driven in their lyrics and timbres and rather
less rich in their melodies. Stripped of guitars,
lyrics and Eddie Vedder's rafter-climbing aggression,
"Even Flow" (to single out this disc's least
convincing moment) just isn't much of a song. And
does turning "Vasoline" into something barely
distinguishable from "Maiden Voyage" convey much
empathy for Scott Weiland's angst? To his credit,
Shipp's settings of "Blowin' In The Wind" and "Eleanor
Rigby" not only present appealing melodies but convey
something of the mood of the lyrics, and "No
Surprises" and "Black Hole Sun" are indeed nice
ballads — ballads that other jazz guys might try.
Leaving aside such considerations, these are
enjoyable if not top-notch jazz performances.
Trumpeter Ray Vega, a pro of an older generation,
deserves kudos for stepping in, and Shipp has an
angular, gritty way with the vibes. The group
achieves a pleasing hybrid of Hancock and Gary
Burton's mid-'60s combo sounds, with guitarist Nolan
Ericsson evoking the slight psychedelic underboil that
Larry Coryell or John McLaughlin used to have around
1968.
If Shipp clears the way for more jazzers to jam on
the masterworks of '90s grunge, more power to him. As
much as he succeeds in his mission, though, this disc
ultimately leaves me hoping that he and his sidemen
will break out their composing pens and come up with
some standards of their own.
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