Aug 13

Aug 13 Charles McPherson

Jack Siegel

Chicago, Chicago Tourism, Jazz, Musicians, Performance, Things to Do in Chicago

““Surrender to what is real within you, for that alone is sure....you are above everything distressing.””

— Baruch Spinoza

““Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see.””

— Arthur Schopenhauer

I first saw Charles McPherson on June 28, 1974 at Carnegie Hall. It was the opening night of the Newport Jazz Festival’s 10-day run. Five sets of musicians associated with the great alto saxophonist Charlie Parker were on hand to pay tribute. Among the luminaries who performed that evening were Billy Eckstine, Dizzy Gillespie, Earl Hines, Budd Johnson, and Jay McShann.

Sonny Stitt, Phil Woods, and some guy named Charles McPherson brought their alto saxophones to the festivities. When the concert was over, I was thrilled to have heard some of the greats of jazz. McPherson stood out. I remember his warm tone, and when I returned from New York, I remember buying a recording of his on the Mainstream label.

Flash forward 49 years. During the last month, I have seen McPherson three times. Once in July at Dizzy’s in New York, and twice this past weekend at Joe Segal’s Jazz Showcase (now run by Joe’s son, Wayne). In between, McPherson returned to the Newport Jazz Festival, as well as playing several dates on the East Coast. His summer tour celebrates his 84th birthday, which means he was a spry 33-year-old when I first heard him. I was a bright-eyed 19-year-old.

At Dizzy’s, McPherson had a slightly larger group that included Terell Stafford (Trumpet), Jeb Patton (Piano) David Wong (Bass) and Billy Drummond (Drums). I don’t recall the specific standards that the group played, but McPherson chose to play two selections from a dance suite he wrote in collaboration with the San Diego Ballet Company. I do recall the set was largely uptempo, but each note McPherson played represented a discreet point in time. Unlike others, McPherson does not play overlapping sheets of notes. The notes may come in rapid succession, but each note stands on its own.

I also noted a generosity of spirit on McPherson’s part. People pay to hear the master, but he had some excellent musicians stirring the pot, and McPherson frequently stepped to the side, letting the others solo, as he stood enraptured by what he was hearing. I was particularly impressed by Stafford, who blew every bit of air he had in his lungs into his trumpet.

Fast forward several weeks. At the Jazz Showcase, August has been Charlie Parker month for the last 68 years. McPherson’s four-day run this week therefore makes perfect sense, particularly given the fact that he “was featured as the saxophonist in the Clint Eastwood film Bird, a biopic about Charlie Parker.” With McPherson are his son Chuck (Drums), Mark Davis (Piano), and Jeff Hamann (Bass). The latter two hail from Milwaukee.

Saturday night, the quartet began with Horizon, an original number. Although they sped out of the starting gate, the group eventually settled into a more moderate groove. The set included a Charlie Parker classic, Cherokee, which gave McPherson the opportunity to showcase his dexterity. Then McPherson decided to add some mysticism to the set, calling for Dizzy Gillespie’s A Night in Tunisia.

At one point, McPherson paid tribute to Joe Segal, who he knew for decades. As everyone does, McPherson noted Joe’s love for the music, as well as Joe’s great efforts in keeping the music alive.

The group concluded the set with Blue Monk, which had a very bluesy feel to it. Notably, McPherson ended with a very extended final note, that grew softer and softer as he extended it; such control.

But with Wayne’s encouragement, the near-capacity hollered for an encore. McPherson and company happily complied, playing Dizzy Gillespie’s Groovin High.

Sunday afternoon I headed back for the 4 PM matinee. It was an opportunity to hear another great set, and catch up with jazz photographer extraordinaire Mark Sheldon.

McPherson and Company had some new tricks up their collective sleeve. In keeping with the Parker theme, the group opened with Star Eyes, which was followed by an original, Bud Like (“not", admonished McPherson, “Bud Light).” After saluting the great Bud Powell, McPherson called for Parker’s Cherokee, but due to a mixup at the outset, the group found itself playing another number associated with the great alto saxophonist, Lover.

If I am not mistaken, the group then played George Gershwin’s Embraceable You, which slowed the pace considerably as the quartet moved in a bluesy direction.

McPherson then showed off his philosophical chops, name-checking Immanuel Kant, Arthur Schopenhauer, and Baruch Spinoza, before launching into the original composition, Seventh Dimension, which had a circular motion animating it. As if a black hole collapsing into itself, McPherson brought the number to an end by prolonging a single note that grew softer and softer while slowly receding into infinity.

Once McPherson returned from his journey to the center of his mind, he explained that the Seventh Dimension is comprised of a multitude of frequencies rather than planes. None of it makes any sense at this time, at least according to McPherson. But most importantly, he then name-checked Friedrich Nietzsche, my favorite modern philosopher.

After the journey into space and philosophy, McPherson returned to the here and now, playing A Tear and a Smile, a composition he wrote for his mother. He undoubtedly brought more smiles to his mother’s face than tears.

Throughout both performances, the unit behind McPherson performed admirably, with some excellent solos from the younger McPherson, Davis, and Hamann. As usual, when the others were soloing, McPherson stood to the side, thoroughly enjoying the efforts of his bandmates. He might not have reached the Seventh Dimension, but he most likely passed through the Third.

After both performances, I had nice chats with the performers. Saturday night, I told McPherson about my Carnegie Hall experience. He had fond memories of that night. My old high school classmate, trumpeter Brian Lynch, came up when McPherson learned I was born in Milwaukee. McPherson also offered some marital advice—he does it all.

On Sunday, I spoke with Mark Davis, who not only was the pianist today, but also is the Artistic Director of the Milwaukee Jazz Institute. Given that Milwaukee is my hometown, we reminisced about Manty Ellis, George Pritchard, and my old friend, Ron Cuzner. At one point Brian Lynch’s name came up again. Yep, he was a member of my high school class. When I told Mark that Lynch at one time dated my cousin, he said, “Kathy Kaiser?” Yep, small world.

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