Brecker Band Heats Up Jazz With Pizazz

COSTA MESA —  Jazz changed in the early ‘60s. The highly melodic improvisations and song-oriented selections of bebop, typified by alto sax great Charlie Parker, were usurped by a more direct music of simplified tunes, extremely energized, free-wheeling improvisations and a focus on group interplay--a style exemplified by tenor saxophonist John Coltrane.

Michael Brecker, the highly acclaimed 49-year-old tenor saxophonist who appeared with his quintet in four weekend performances at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, has brought forth the key aspects of that tumultuous period. He offers state-of-the-art acoustic jazz, vintage 1997.

Brecker’s play during the Saturday early show demonstrated what was gained, and what was lost, in jazz’s shift. Pure excitement has been the primary benefit. In the ‘40s and ‘50s, the thrills came from long, luxurious melodic lines played to a stinging beat. But rarely, if ever, did audiences hear the kind of exhilarating rhythmic charge that formed the spine of Brecker’s performance.

From the opening “Slings and Arrows” to the climactic “African Skies,” and even on the set’s one slow tune, the fivesome played with phenomenal rhythmic heat. Brecker soloed with brief repeated figures; worked-out patterns; wide, leaping intervals; angular lines where notes seemed to bounce against each other; and high, vibrant shrieks--all played with an unshakable feeling.

In response, his bandmates--Joey Calderazzo (piano), James Genus (bass), Jeff “Tain” Watts (drums) and Don Alias (congas and percussion)--were generally uproarious. Calderazzo accompanied with hard-banged chords that echoed, and often anticipated, Brecker’s ideas. Genus delivered steady, sturdy bottom notes. Watts, a firecracker of a drummer, ranged all around the beat, ever pushing the soloist. Alias added distinctive conga whaps as color.

Spontaneity, a key gain of the ‘60s shift, ruled, in both the anything-might-go policy of the soloists and the occasional moments when the band jelled on an idea.

Brecker exemplifies saxophone mastery, as heard on an amazing unaccompanied opening to “Delta City Blues.” He moved gracefully between his horn’s lowest range and its highest, delivering fat brays, honks and purrs, all touching on the bluesy core of the number.

Brecker’s show lacked the element sacrificed in jazz’s stylistic shift--warmth and tuneful melodicism, that song-like element characterized by bebop. Yes, the tenorman and his cohorts played melodies, but they were rough-edged ones, rarely lines that had a singing quality. These are turbulent times and much of contemporary jazz, like Brecker’s, reflects them. But to neglect emotion and beauty for the sake of being cutting-edge seems a great price to pay.