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State Theatre Invaded by Chameleons and Uninvisibles: Herbie Hancock
and Medeski, Martin & Wood in Ithaca
By Ben Garvey
Cats took over the city of Ithaca. These were not the kind of cats that
meowed quietly. Instead they came in funked up and spaced out to the
sky. The cats that took over were the Herbie Hanock Quartet on Oct.
26, and the Medeski Martin and Wood Trio on Oct. 30. They were so cool
they didn't even need costumes to look like cats.
What is the similarity between a swing driven jazz quartet and a funk
driven fusion trio? They both start with the same fundamental assumption.
Create Space! They did it with the funk. Blowing down a melody line
with as much groove as James, George, or Stevie. They did it with the
jam. Tweaking into a musical realm as unknown as Jupiter, Heaven, or
the Center of the Earth. They did it with the pocket. Swinging or Rocking
behind the beat like a fatman running a marathon never falling too far
behind, but never catching up. They did not play anything in common,
but everything they didn't play was exactly the same, dig? And down
they dug into sets of music that made all the jazz Cats, and funk Phatts
holla to the ceiling of the State Street Theatre so loud and chill that
it made the chandeliers shake and the lanterns flash. Two different
shows. Seven different musicians. The only thing that was the same was
nothing.
Herbie proved beyond a doubt that he's as hip as he was, is and will
be until hipness is no more. He tried to describe the music he was about
to play before the show. "It's nothin'new…I dunno,let's just
play it."
That was exactly it. What they played. Sure, he covered some of the
tunes Herbie fans love, like Dolphin Dance, but he had never played
them on that night in Ithaca with the band he happened to have for the
show - his fourth band of the year.
Terri Lyne Carrington was rum-tumin' the drums as rim root-tootin' as
she did when she was with Wayne Shorter, or the Arsenio Hall Show. Herbie,
being a jazz genius of a generation, knew how she played because he
made music with Tony Williams, the cat who taught her. Indeed, the reinvention
of music that occurred that night, and undoubtedly every time Herbie
sits at the keys, didn't stop with him and the drummer.
Bass player Scott Colley maintained everything that was needed in order
to keep the drive alive. Highlighting the evening, in fact, was when
he took charge of the bass line in the third jam. It all started when
Herb swiped the melody from a Bill Evans tune and turned it into a swingin',
funkin', groovin' bass line. He was playing solo on the keys when Scott
took over the bass line.
The jam continued…Keys: plunk plunk. Drums: shot SHOT! Sax: dowee
dohonk. Bass: bumdebumbum. Just before everything exploded, Scott stopped
playing that line and picked his two favorite notes for a bass line.
Everything was so confusing, I had to scream, but I couldn't. Then Tenor
Sax man Gary Thomas took his turn as the cat of all cats when he ripped
a melody line out of the space that was everywhere. What did he play?
Chameleon, except the Chameleon had never been this color before. It
was almost orange, but it kept changing its mood and figure from fallacy
to truth to undistributed middle until that lizard collided with space
like a crash test dummy flying through a windshield. This show was so
"it" that I can't even remember what it was, but I know I'll
never forget.
*****
The same stage, four days later: Medeski, Martin and Wood (MMW) appeared
to take control of the airwaves. First set: They left the air empty
for the most part - embarking on a rocket trip to space, letting the
minds of the audience wander into nowhere while their bodies were rockets
discovering planets whose existence started and ended in every moment
of effervescent groove. And the grooves were these planets, but the
body rocket never landed. There was too much space, and too many planets
to see before finding one to land on.
Second set: Body rocket lands on planet funk, explores everything from
caverns to the local coffee shops. There was so much to see, and MMW
pulled out their tools for exploration. John Medeski used his three:
piano, organ and effects keyboard. He found groove, love and existence
lurking in the far corners of the planet. The whole time Chris Wood
was searching out the culture. He used his different bass guitars to
talk to the locals and learn how to dance the way they do on funky planets.
Billie Martin stayed back, protecting the body rocket from any attacks
from the anti-funk monsters. Attacks came, but Billie staved off these
horrible creatures of nihilism with rim shots, cymbal rolls and a deep,
deep pocket of groove. At the end of the show it was clear that the
exploration of space in the first set led MMW to the best planet for
exploration, and that exploration was funkucational.
MMW returned to the body rockets for an encore only to realize they
left their groove on the planet. The ship landed again briefly, and
the trio was forced to congeal. They worked together for the first time
all show in order to find what was truly the groovessence of MMW. John
came to the front of the stage with his new tool, a mini piano attached
to a tube he blew on to make the sounds needed to find groove. Chris
kept his bass and taught the other two the dances he learned in his
exploration. Billie didn't stay by the body rocket.
Instead he used a strange instrument that squeaked like an asthmatic
gasping for air. When they came together, however, the groove was quickly
found and developed. They took it back onto the body rocket and disappeared
much the same they appeared in the first place.
The space created by these two groups may have been the same, but in
the context of the notes that they played, they served very different
functions. This can be seen when examining the two different audiences.
At Herbie the crowd was mellow, remaining in their seats for the duration
of the show (except for a standing ovation at the end). The whoops and
shouts happened sporadically, usually between jams. At MMW, however,
the audience was much more active. The front of the theatre was filled
with people dancing. Even the people that remained seated were bobble
head dolls moving in time to the music. It was almost as if the space
at Herbie was cerebral, used for the purpose of ideas and contemplation.
At MMW the space was physical, functioning to create action and motion.
The musicians were aware of this. Herbie was constantly addressing the
audience, telling stories and providing analysis about the music and
band. MMW hardly addressed the crowd at all. Instead, they focused on
making the crowd move and dance, acting like a battery-powered trampoline
that does the jumping for you.
Both shows were amazing. Nothing was what they had in common, and the
differences blew the top off the mind and the socks off the feet.
Ben Garvey is a senior speech communication major. Email him at bgarvey1@ithaca.edu
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