A Blessing Blows Into Town



Regina Carter at the Jazz Bakery on Oct. 13 

You could call her the greatest fiddle player to come out of Detroit since Paul Chambers.

Of course Regina Carter plays a regular size violin and not the double bass that was Chambers' instrument.

But the refreshing shock she causes is comparable to the one you felt when you first heard that twangy rhythm section powerhouse on those Miles Davis Prestige sides: Where did this bonus come from?

"Lady Be Good" is her signature number, begun slowly in the company of an unamplified guitar and then doubled up in tempo, vaudeville style. She plays amplified, and her sound is dark, full, free and agreeable, particularly winning in a setting like the Jazz Bakery.

She sounds like a serious tenor man, mainly, but then  she pops in little party decorations here and there, grace notes and trills and things, that remind you of her instrument's long history in another musical world.

Of course, you can play real fast on a violin, and this is what she eventually did, meeting a serious challenge posed by a burning chorus or three from her guitarist, the flaming blue Adam Rogers.

She more than met the challenge, though, in a furious but immaculate chorus studded with knowing references to bebop classics like Dizzy Gillespie's "Dynamo" and "Hot House." As she warmed to her task, her bassist, Darryl Hall, and her drummer, Alvester((cq)) Garnett, did too, partaking of a second wind just when you thought they would be tiring.

They were very exciting to hear all night long, big in spirit and bountiful in output. On the Latin tunes that had long monochordal passages, like "Mojito" and "Mandingo Street," they kept the excitement level steady but never drove you nuts.

The latter number was one of the more charming experiences of the night, featuring a passage in which Carter sang along with her violin, lullaby like.

Her Billie Holiday tribute, although it was not "God Bless the Child," came dangerously close to the overworked. Certainly the flowery rhetoric of her pianist, Werner Gierig, could have been suppressed. The lights dimmed and she played "Don't Explain," quite beautifully all in all, but brushing once or twice the sweetie pie zone of Evelyn and her Magic Violin. Almost! Not quite!

She's got too much talent for that. Bit of a blessing, this one.


 

The blessing without her disguise.
 

Text and photographs by Tony Gieske

Tony Gieske has been reviewing jazz and occasionally playing it on his cornet since the 1950s, when he wrote the jazz column for the Washington Post. Now he works for the Hollywood Reporter, where his reviews and photographs, such as these, appear regularly.The photographs are available as prints or as scans by sending an e-mail to grnskl@earthlink.net. More jazz stuff can be seen by clicking on the links beneath.

 

 

Jumpin' in the Boneyard: The prelude

The night they remembered Woody

Woody remembers Woody

Woodchoppin' for the old Woodchopper

The blue flame goes out

Riding with the boys on the Count Basie bus

A mockingbird sang on Citrus Place: Annie Ross

Melissa Manchester's voice does everything she asks

Earthy delights with the Bricktop of the blues

Uan Rasey: Play it reverently

Young Jazz Giants: Newsy and juicy

A taste of the new Brownie, Maurice Brown

Hank Jones: Not a minute to waste

Horace Silver becomes more spiritual

Take your time, Sister D

Gerald Wilson reveals the secret of bebop

Teddy Edwards: 'You ain't done nothing but play great.'

No sun, no day: Sun Ra

Tiny Grimes: 'I never could afford the other two strings'

'Ain't that a bitch!' said Jay McShann

Woof of melancholy, warp of jazz

'Pop, can you play this thing?' Stacy asks Jimmy Rowles

Hamp's last stand

Hamp's last stand: The outtakes

Final flight

'I never wanted a band,' said Marshal Royal

Twinkly but unblinking: Lorraine Feather

Pronounced john-gear-off

Miss Peggy Lee, 1920-2002

The real Count

'A little trumpet player from down in Dayton named Snooky'

Sweets Edison: Death of a Mainstay

Hubbard in the hood

With abandon but chops: DDB

Dwight Trible, kick-ass holy man 

'I'm Roy Haynes, Dammit!'

High kicks and belly blows: James Carter

The accursed Coltrane

Jazz Fusion Is Not Dead: Billy Cobham

Brookmeyer: Soft spoken but hard core.

Snakes in the Clover: Steve Lacy

Sam Rivers: Like Bartok rocking out

Les Paul, Solid Body

Billy Higgins: We're really blessed

A night full of deep things: Charles Lloyd

Death of the horse whisperer

Talking about Chet Baker

A visit from the Poinciana Kid

 Adieu to Art, a Euro-gentleman of jazz

Blues for Bags, 1923-99

A night with the Florence nightingales 

 An ancient afternoon with Dizzy

Bill Berry's Own Private Ellington

A Bowl full of bebop

A blessing blows into town

Blowing with Buckaroo Banzai

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