Johnny Griffin Quartet
Jazz drummers talk back. In other musical styles the drummer’s role is important but fundamentally different than in jazz. A great rock or R & B drummer–like the Rolling Stones’ Charlie Watts or the Hi Rhythm Section’s Howard Grimes–will maintain a steady groove, providing the singer or lead instrumentalist with a solid rhythmic foundation, but won’t engage him in dialogue. A jazz drummer, though, will mix it up with a horn player, retorting, cajoling, and provoking. The heart of jazz–the source of its distinctive piquancy and volatility–lies in the interplay between horn players and drummers. And as demonstrated in recent concerts by the Johnny Griffin Quartet and the Ritual Trio with guest artist David Murray, the quality of a jazz performance is often determined by the quality of that interplay.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
The saxophonist and drummer played together, not merely simultaneously, throughout. Reflecting Griffin’s long and varied career, the music ranged widely, from swaggering blues (his own “The JAMFS Are Coming”) to wistful ballads (Michel Legrand’s “You Must Believe in Spring”) to feverish bebop (Thelonious Monk’s “Rhythm-a-ning”). The interplay between the musicians was established in the first number, the Cole Porter standard “Just One of Those Things,” which they performed at a demonic tempo after a playfully subversive introduction in which Griffin pledged to “destroy” it. His solo–a mix of agitated lines, sustained notes, slashing figures, and clenched bleats–called to mind the experience of riding in a car on a foggy night down a winding country road with a driver who’s never taken that particular route before but nevertheless presses down on the gas as hard as he can. That reckless abandon–a quality too often lacking in younger jazz musicians–was offset by exquisite control: every turn was executed with pinpoint precision, leaving the listener dazed but exhilarated. Washington displayed that same combination of abandon and control, pushing the beat and the saxophonist relentlessly, adding skittering, off-center accents as retorts, and at times–on some of the wildest curves–suspending time altogether with a flurried pop-pop-pop.
As with Griffin and Washington, the nature of the interaction between El’Zabar and the two saxophonists was evident from their opening number, the medium-tempo “Papa’s Bounce.” El’Zabar, who spent most of the night on the trap drums, began this piece with a repeated pattern on an earth drum (a congalike cylinder that’s played with the hands); bassist Malachi Favors then joined in with a funky repeated riff, and the two saxophonists began playing the piece’s melody line in unison. Murray took the first solo, turning the piece’s simple melody on its head harmonically, then launching abruptly into an extended series of squeals that was followed by a torrent of descending notes. The problem with this solo (and with much of Murray’s playing throughout the night) was that it was often exciting but seldom moving. A player of stunning virtuosity, Murray often proceeded in a seemingly random manner, as though the various parts of a solo were interchangeable. And his solos often suffered from the musical equivalent of premature ejaculation, climaxing too quickly. Whereas Griffin’s bleats meant something because of what had preceded them, Murray’s often seemed to come out of nowhere. Murray’s approach left El’Zabar with basically two options: repeating essentially the same patterns while Murray soloed or mimicking Murray’s bursts of intensity with volcanic flurries on the cymbals and snare drum. Neither role involved genuine give-and-take.
