Our jazz trip? Less mobile than 40 years ago, in 1982 rue Saint-Denis, when we set foot there for the first time, fascinated by absolutely everything that entered our ears, emanating from the different scenes until the end of the night .
Posted at 1:00 p.m.
Time has passed, but we have to admit that we are still lucky to hold this valid passport to the unknown: 10 days of jazz in all its variations and new, fresh, amazing.
Even if some indoor concerts, more general public, made us roll our eyes in exasperation, we vibrated very strongly in this 42e edition, which ends on Sunday.
Louis Cole and his Big Band revealed to us their attraction for rummaging, uninhibited jazz on the second day of the festivities. His armada of 12 musicians works with ease and offers a well-dispatched jazz, alluring as possible. Noise in control. The team of programmers, now led by Maurin Auxéméry, the dolphin of Laurent Saulnier, should not be long in offering them a larger stage than that of the intimate Studio TD, where they occurred.
The next day, the great precedent: jazz jazz on the Place des Festivals, the most imposing of the stages, with Kamasi Washington, the hipsters’ favorite jazzman (during the 1990s, it was Medeski, Martin & Wood). At the heart of the compact crowd of disciples who had come to take communion at the altar, we were able to fully taste the seven pieces at riffs authoritative, and even grueling, of the Californian tenor saxophonist.
Rant: can we stop once and for all associating him with rapper Kendrick Lamar and Thundercat, this emulator of George Duke? The torrid crescendo of his group, Next Step, took us to a kind of superior music, of jubilation, which expresses itself with a lot of well-controlled complexity and allows diabolical escapes! Beautiful and disarming at the same time. Like the past concerts of David Murray, Roland Kirk or Pharoah Sanders, trench saxophonists who made the hot nights of the festival.
On July 4, classic soul singer Lee Fields took us back to 1967 in 2022 with the replay of coppery pearls pulled from oblivion. An honest tribute to the most noble of conquests: singing with one’s guts.
At 71, he propagates the genre with persuasion. Whiskey helping, he butters up just enough. With, in his sights, the specter of Otis Redding, Bobby Womack and Otis Clay. Vintage and effective!
Twenty-four hours later, we strolled between the Esplanade Tranquille, where the Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio was playing, and the Rio Tinto stage, where bassist-producer Mononeon was having fun at the same time.
Without falling into a horrifying demonstration of style, the two protagonists impressed. Lamarr treats himself to a few delicious slices of pleasure on his Hammond B-3, while the former bassist of Prince shoots in all directions: funk, heavy rock, soul of good quality, with an octopus drummer who multiplies the cadences with fervor . Several dozen young musicians are engulfed in this new hybrid, urban and innovative style.
Then the rain fell on the city, the 10 p.m. show was canceled while Nathaniel Rateliff, in another register, presented the songs of The Future with The Night Sweats. Same thing: songs that feel good, a singer with a gravelly voice, true intentions. Except that we had a succession of dull and tasteless songs, endless ballads, bad pacing ! Obviously, he threw us the irresistible Son of a Bitch (SOB) at the end, but it was too late.
PHOTO SARAH MONGEAU-BIRKETT, THE PRESS
Nathaniel Rateliff
On July 6 at the Théâtre Maisonneuve, Robert Glasper somewhat wandered in an unambitious concert with his Black Radio III as a piece of resistance. Very good singer, a soft and sensual voice which floats well in a universe far from jazz and closer to indie soul, he can no longer count on the surprise effect of his first visits as a cantor of hip-hop jazz, whereas he had the same punch on the piano as a Cyrus Chestnut.
With his undeniably endearing personality, Gunhild Carling flew over his two free sets. She who hardly cares about fashions and currents, she captivated us by playing three trumpets at the same time, the bagpipes, dancing the Charleston, being what she is: a beast of the jazz stage of yesteryear. . We will see her again, that’s for sure!
Finally, Bombino and his guitar in the implacable sun and his Nigerian Tuareg blues transported us, with his fragile but hypnotizing solos, it was popular on the stage of the Petit Parterre. The free programming was very strong this year. Too bad we can’t be everywhere at once…
