The Stanley Clarke / George Duke show on June 26th
at B.B. King’s, part of the Blue Note Jazz Festival, was a long awaited reunion
of two jazz-funk legends, a sterling example of how an old catalog can be reinvigorated
with pure, in the moment playing, and a complete shit show.
I have been a fan of George Duke since first hearing his
playing on The Mothers’ Overnite
Sensation album and I got turned onto Stanley Clarke in college when I
first started listening to Return to Forever. I latched onto their solo works
and other collaborations later, and loved the ability that both shared to marry
jazz, Latin, R&B and even disco into a funky, kinetic hybrid. Obviously I
would have preferred my first time seeing them to be the best example of their
current live sets, the best of what they have to offer today, instead of making
the best out of a bad situation, trying to play the best possible set while
dealing with pervasive sound issues. Well, shit, I guess that’s live music for
you.
Clearly, the intended show was a greatest hits show, playing
through jazz-funk classics from their solo albums of the 1970s (aside from the
R&B hit “Pretty Baby,” they largely eschewed material from the duo’s
collaborative albums from the 80s) laying down energetic, stretched out
versions of classics like Stanley’s “Silly Putty” and “School Days” and George’s
“Brazilian Love Affair” even throwing in a bit of Zappa.
Often at shows like these, it is inevitable
that the mind will jump to unfavorable comparisons with the artists’ former
selves, playing with less agility and fire than during their glory years. As
George began singing “Brazilian Love Affair,” I could not help but notice that
his vocals, an octave down from the falsetto line he sang on the original album,
did not cut through the arrangement very well. However, when he began his
piano solo, the intense, funky lyricism laid to rest any suspicions of lost
chops.
George first whipped out the old Keytar during “Silly
Putty,” and though I generally disapprove of emulating guitar lines in that
fashion, George’s facility with the instrument made him one of the only people
today who can play it without looking like a schmuck (apologies to Donald
Fagen).
The sound issues had became evident almost immediately with
a clipping sound becoming pervasive by the middle of the first song. When
drummer Henry McAdams took an extended solo, it was obvious that the purpose
was to fill time and try to isolate the issue in the channels of the other
instruments even before the house lights started going up and down and the
engineers started roaming the stage.
At this point, their acoustic performance of the jazz
standard “Autumn Leaves” served several major purposes in the scheme of the
show. It gave both musicians a platform to show off their chops and pure
musicality without the frills of the technology with which both had done such
pioneering work. Also, for those members of the audience who wore out the
grooves on their copies of School Days
and Reach For It in the late
seventies, but were unaware of their earlier work with Cannonball Adderley,
Stan Getz and Chick Corea, it firmly established their presence in the pantheon
of jazz musicians and their roots in its tradition. For the sound guys, it provided
a chance to change out second keyboardist Bobby Sparks’ main keyboard in hopes
of isolating the source of the clipping sound. The chaos happening at the back of the stage, however,
did not distract from the intricate but fluid interplay between these two
masters.
After this the sound issues seemed to be a bit more under
control, if not fixed. The rest of the show featured the duo displaying the
best and worst of their talents and excesses. Stanley showed how he could still
play funky lines better than most young lions while occasionally being so
percussive that the notes would disappear. George displayed both his masterful
playing and his mastery of the technology and the ability to give human
qualities to electronic instruments. It still sounded strange when he applied
pitch bend to the acoustic piano patch on his keyboard. In the end, though,
it’s easy to forgive such eccentricities when the moments that lead to a roll
of the eyes or quizzically raised eyebrow are so outweighed by the moments that
inspire pure awe.
Basically, these guys are just really funkin’ good at what
they do (pardon the pun, but I felt it was necessary).
It was uncertain whether they would end the show with one of
George’s songs or one of Stanley’s (but the fact that they had already played “School
Days”, arguably Stanley’s biggest cut, tipped the scales in George’s favor),
and the intro simply confused the issue. Recalling “Space Lady” (the old
Cobham/Duke Band piece featuring George accompanying a psychedelic/sci-fi story
with odd textures on his keyboards), George began reciting in a low voice:
“Many moons ago…”
Unfortunately, the old sound issues gave way to new ones,
and the desired effects apparently were not backing him up. He kept repeating
the phrase “many moons ago,” each time hoping that things would fall into place
before eventually declaring with a laugh: “It was working at sound check.”
They promptly aborted the introduction and jumped right into
George’s classic (although with its mix of P-Funk grooves with James Brown
clichés, quite derivative) rave-up, “Reach for It.” With this they got the
largely post-baby boomer crowd screaming along, if not on its feet.
Hopefully, the late show fared better, with the sound
problems proving to be less of a hindrance. However, the band appeared, at
least, to take the issues in stride and just play with that mix of tight
discipline, loose spontaneity, and plain stinky funk that they are known for.
This may not have been their most exemplary show, but I’d rather see this than
the best show by a lesser group.
