Music Review: Branford Marsalis - "In My Solitude: Live at Grace Cathedral"

This article was first published at Blogcritics

A solo saxophone recital may not be the typical jazz lover’s idea of a good time, but if it is Branford Marsalis playing that saxophone, minds may well need to be changed. In My Solitude: Live at Grace Cathedral, the album released last October, has the virtuoso taking center stage at the venerable scene of the famed Duke Ellington Sacred Concerts for his debut as a solo artist.

Certainly one expects technical perfection, and Marsalis delivers. But technical perfection alone may not be all that satisfying. Technical perfection is often mechanical and uninspired. Playing a lot of notes at warp speed will not always cut it. There must be more; there must be creativity in the moment. There must be an emotional investment by the artist. Marsalis understands what he needs to do and clearly he is up to the task.

Creativity in the moment is featured in four improvisations, the third of which has the artist working with a siren that happens by during the performance. Each of the four gives Marsalis a chance to show his different sides—melodic, meditative and technically proficient. He can evoke laughter in the audience with a witty programmatic moment in his own composition, “The Moment I Recall Your Face;” he can turn to a more abstract construct in his translation of the first movement of C. P. E. Bach’s Sonata in A Minor for Oboe Solo to the tenor sax. He can even take the abstraction up a level with his version of Ryo Noda’s “MAI. Op. 7.”

In many respects, for me at least, he is at his best with his “Blues For One,” a rousing blues that concludes the concert, before he comes back for an unplanned encore, which, hard to believe, is the theme from the old Carol Burnet TV show, “I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together,” a theme he ends with a squawk and a whimper. Other highlights are the set opener, a soprano sax take on sax master Steve Lacy’s “Who Needs It,” and an exciting version of the classic “Stardust.”

Perhaps the depth of Marsalis’s emotional investment in measured in an anecdote relayed in Rafi Zabor’s liner notes. Originally Marsalis had planned to play two classics—“Stardust” and “Body and Soul.” It was only when he heard recording of the concert played back, that he realized that instead of the “Body and Soul,” he had played the Hoagy Carmichael piece twice. We only get it once on the album, and we can only lament the loss of his “Body and Soul.”

A Note on George Pelecanos' "The Cut"

This note was first published at Goodreads.

This first entry in the debut of a new series introduces Spero Lucas, an ex-marine working as an investigator specializing in finding and restoring lost property. The character has promise, but this first tale is mediocre Pelecanos at best.

 If you cut out the description and catalogueing of everything the male characters are wearing, the description of what the hero, Spero Lucas and his friends are eating, and the careful mention of all the streets he passes over every time he moves around town, you would be left with half of the book.

It is easy to get annoyed with Pelecano's tics. They're all here, and while sometimes they work, if the story isn't strong enough they almost become parody.