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Rating: "World-class!" is a phrase we use in my neck of the woods to enthusiastically appreciate the excellent quality of something, especially if it's food: a world-class finocchiona, a world-class porchetta, etc. Like all somewhat original expressions, it is now almost supplanted by the banal and overused "legendary," not to mention the coarse and intrusive "maaaassive!" with "a's" ad libitum.
However, it persists, and I am delighted to be able to use it to introduce a concert like the one Dizzy Gillespie delivered at the venerable age of 72. World-class, or rather doubly world-class: not only for the quality level but also as a perfect example of the fusion between jazz and "world music", or ethnic music. We shouldn't think of it as a spontaneous and senile passion for this music: this 1989 live performance is nothing but the natural culmination of a coherent journey that began all the way back in the '40s, when the great trumpeter carved out a unique space for himself in the revolution known as "bebop," energizing the already whirling compositions of the "beboppers" with the addition of "exotic," Latin, and Afro-Cuban rhythms.
In 1988, lively Dizzy, instead of resting on the laurels of his classic '40s and '50s, embarked on an ambitious project, gathering around him a great number of excellent musicians, partly black Americans and partly of various Latin American nationalities. More than the usual band, a true orchestra, which took the name of the United Nation Orchestra and immediately set off for an international tour, of which this live London performance is a precious testament. On one hand, Dizzy Gillespie impresses with how he still manages to make his mark at his age with the powerful and sharp notes of his signature upward-bent trumpet, while on the other hand, all the orchestra members deserve mention for their timely and valuable contributions, but the list would never end.
Let's see them stand out piece by piece, starting with "Tin Tin Deo", a classic Afro-Cuban jazz piece introduced and sustained by the warm percussion of Airto Moreira and "Maneguito" Hidalgo, with the theme emerging from Gillespie's trumpet somewhat indistinct, almost like a baby's murmur, and gradually becoming clearer before bursting into a crackling barrage of notes. With the entry of Paquito D'Rivera's alto sax, the pace accelerates dramatically, the percussion and Ignacio Berroa's drums hammering as they should and paving the way for the delightful solo of the two trombones by Slide Hampton and Steve Turre (bass trombone), resembling a friendly exchange of trumpet blasts between two elephants, a nice touch of African color.
"Seresta/Samba For Carmen" are two well-distinguished pieces. The boundless sadness of "Seresta" recalls more the Brazilian classic "Manha do Carnival" than the Andean tradition from which it actually comes. Played masterfully by Paquito D'Rivera, this time on clarinet, and Panamanian pianist Danilo Perez, it creates a tenderly melancholic atmosphere, more chamber music than jazz. But a powerful entry from the rhythm section breaks this spell, introducing the festive and wild "Samba For Carmen". Among the swirling solos, the one by Brazilian trumpeter Claudio Roditi stands out.
"And Then She Stopped" sees the old master taking on the role of a charmer once again, with an exceptional solo not only for its clarity but also for its length, supported by a pleasant Caribbean rhythm, not too fast-paced. Danilo Perez's piano delivery is also clear. In "Tanga", the great Flora Purim shines with her acrobatic vocalizations à la Ella Fitzgerald: a real added instrument to an already rich orchestra. The frantic rhythm then supports various solos: impressive is the thunderous one by drummer Ignacio Berroa and the more tribal one by the phenomenal percussionists Moreira and Hidalgo. In "Kush", the spotlight is on a faithful old band member of Gillespie’s, James Moody. His flute introduction combines Andean influences with echoes of Debussy, and it is undoubtedly among the magical moments of the record. It goes without saying, but the subsequent solo by the old Gillespie, who doesn't know what fatigue is, is sharp and impeccable as well.
"Dizzy Shells" is a personal showcase for trombonist Steve Turre, who here enjoys extracting incredible sounds from authentic sea shells of various sizes, either solo or just slightly supported by the percussion. In the finale, the rest of the orchestra joins in a festive Caribbean dance. As even this concert unfortunately has to end, the best way to close it is with the quintessential Gillespie classic: "A Night In Tunisia", a composition from the '40s that already contained the foundations for developments and variations of great modernity, as this sumptuous 18-minute version demonstrates. The start is much more cautious compared to versions of the time, but there is room for various rhythm changes later on, never disrupting the mysterious exotic charm of this jazz standard. It's mostly the wind instruments that unleash in imaginative solos, starting from the old leader and ending with other trumpeters Arturo Sandoval and Claudio Roditi, and James Moody, here in the role of saxophonist. Even bassist John Lee, so far an excellent but sidelined accompanist, finally grants himself an opportunity to shine. The considerable duration is due to an extended final section in which, just like in a classical concert, the orchestra falls silent and the main soloists emerge alone with real "cadenzas." It goes without saying that these displays of virtuosity are absolutely thrilling. The end of the concert, even if we're just in armchairs, leaves an irresistible itch in our hands, which only disappears by joining in the great final applause of the lucky audience at London's Royal Festival Hall.
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