carries the daydream
This came from Forrest Dylan Bryant's blog: www.fojazz.com
I thought it was a beautiful set too, only too brief. I'm ready to organize more shows for 2008 with this inspiring band.
More updates soon, including roundups of food, art, and other experiences in Cali, Singapore and NY...
Monterey Notebook: All Together Now
Friday, 8:15 p.m. – The Night Club / Bill Berry Stage
Anthony Wilson’s Nonet eases in slowly, allowing themselves a few minutes to drift from their leader’s atmospheric solo guitar meditation up to a casually loping fantasy. Standing hunched over his guitar, Wilson carries the daydream forward into a funky strut, giving his five-horn front line a chance to show off its tight ensemble coordination and simpatico improvisational chops. Donald Vega’s stabbing piano break pushes the band into higher gear as the atmosphere of the packed room grows thick and humid.
Stringing tunes together into lengthy hybrids, Wilson’s ensemble breathes — suspending time, revealing wide vistas or working grooves as a single organism. Wilson guides it with an open, almost vocal tone that is picked up in a sprightly dialogue with the band.
With the room jammed, only two or three people are admitted at a time, as others depart. Midway through the set, Wilson’s father, the great bandleader Gerald Wilson, manages to get in and is guided to a seat near the rear of the room. The elder Wilson nods appreciatively at Alan Ferber’s rhythmic trombone work, which slips into a rumbling drum break by his twin brother, Mark Ferber.
Outside, the drizzle is growing heavier.
I thought it was a beautiful set too, only too brief. I'm ready to organize more shows for 2008 with this inspiring band.
More updates soon, including roundups of food, art, and other experiences in Cali, Singapore and NY...
Monterey Notebook: All Together Now
Friday, 8:15 p.m. – The Night Club / Bill Berry Stage
Anthony Wilson’s Nonet eases in slowly, allowing themselves a few minutes to drift from their leader’s atmospheric solo guitar meditation up to a casually loping fantasy. Standing hunched over his guitar, Wilson carries the daydream forward into a funky strut, giving his five-horn front line a chance to show off its tight ensemble coordination and simpatico improvisational chops. Donald Vega’s stabbing piano break pushes the band into higher gear as the atmosphere of the packed room grows thick and humid.
Stringing tunes together into lengthy hybrids, Wilson’s ensemble breathes — suspending time, revealing wide vistas or working grooves as a single organism. Wilson guides it with an open, almost vocal tone that is picked up in a sprightly dialogue with the band.
With the room jammed, only two or three people are admitted at a time, as others depart. Midway through the set, Wilson’s father, the great bandleader Gerald Wilson, manages to get in and is guided to a seat near the rear of the room. The elder Wilson nods appreciatively at Alan Ferber’s rhythmic trombone work, which slips into a rumbling drum break by his twin brother, Mark Ferber.
Outside, the drizzle is growing heavier.
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