Apr 5

Apr 5 Emmet Cohen

Jazz, Musicians, Performance, Things to Do in Chicago

Music photographer Mark Sheldon tolled the bell earlier this week, announcing on his Instagram and Facebook feeds that drummer Albert ‘Tootie’ Heath had died. Sheldon dutifully lets his many followers know whenever a music luminary passes, often posting the obituary and his own photographs depicting the musician. Over the next couple of days, I saw several photographs by Sheldon and others depicting Heath. Each one resembled a photograph I made of Heath long ago.

Heath was performing on a Saturday afternoon at the Chicago Jazz Festival. I was standing fairly close to him. When he saw me raise my camera, he immediately broke into a smile, leaning into the picture. He apparently wanted me to have a nice remembrance of the day. I am guessing he assumed a similar pose whenever a photographer had Heath in his viewfinder, because that smile and willingness to participate in the photographic effort were evident in all the photographs that I scrolled through, which brings me to jazz pianist Emmet Cohen, who tonight brought his trio to the Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts.

I don’t know whether he was mugging for my camera, but Cohen, like Heath, proved to be a photographer’s delight. Unlike many pianists, Cohen did not sit with his back to the audience, bent over, hugging the keys, never looking up.

At times Cohen straddled the piano bench, sitting often parallel to the audience. At others, he was looking over this shoulder at the audience or at the other musicians. Between numbers, he popped up like a jack-in-the-box, revealing the song’s title or other pertinent information. When he wasn’t playing, he turned toward the other musicians, often with his mouth agape, either leaning back or crunching forward. The common denominator: an ever-present infectious smile, white teeth, and difficulty holding back laughter. Cohen is obviously a happy man, loving every note that he and his compatriots play.

With Cohen tonight were Philip Norris on bass and Kyle Poole on drums. One thing is for sure, neither one played second fiddle to Cohen. Cohen began the set by introducing the two musicians. His introductions and raves about both went on so long that I began to subtract the minutes from the announced time for the set—90 minutes. “If he goes on much longer, we are only going to hear 75 minutes of music.” This, however, is not a criticism. Cohen’s stories about both musicians were both revealing and amusing. Norris missed the plane to his first gig as a trio member, but still managed to arrive on time. Poole worked with Cohen during Covid, creating a weekly Facebook performance originating from Cohen’s Harlem apartment.

How the person at the top of the bill treats his fellow musicians says a lot about the night’s headliner. Cohen exhibited a generosity of spirit toward Norris and Poole, but it was not limited to the introductions or between selections. Cohen certainly took his solos—notably during one ballad and the rag-time fueled encore that also included a rendition of Happy Birthday celebrating the birthdays of two women in the audience who shared the name ‘Stephanie.’ But Cohen made sure that both Norris and Poole had opportunities to shine—although Poole is such a subtle and nuanced percussionist that even when he solos there is little bombast. In fact, my big complaint with Poole is that he is so restrained that he is a difficult drummer to photograph—the sticks, brushes and mallets usually are positioned below his navel. No wild arm movements, nor flourishes; just pure economy of movement, with a huge payoff. The oft-repeated adage that “less is more” certainly applies to Poole’s efforts. Or as some musicians say, “It’s the space between the notes.”

As for the music, once again, Cohen’s generosity of spirit was evident. As varied as the set was stylistically, the entire affair was rooted in call and response patterns, which required lots of interaction among the players. Norris would crouch low, repeatedly thumping one or two strings on his bass, while Cohen mimicked the sounds coming from the bass with his piano—back and forth they went. On another occasion, it was Poole’s turn—several strokes, followed by Cohen responding to what he had just heard. Or, just a single brush stroke, followed by more piano and another stroke of Poole’s brushes.

I hate to confess this, but Bill Evans was my go-to pianist while I read dozens of books during the early days of the Covid lockdowns. While Cohen played, I recalled those days because my inner voice kept saying, “I could never read a book while listening to Emmet Cohen.” When I wasn’t snapping images, I was bouncing from side to side, with my fingers hitting imaginary keys. I don’t think I was alone. Much of the music was danceable.

Throughout, Cohen added touches of color. At one point, he was plucking the piano’s strings with one hand, while playing the keys with the other. At times, he dramatically pounded the keyboard, at others he quickly moved his hands across all 88 keys. Sometimes two notes were repeated in rapid succession. At one point, I was looking down, and I heard a ‘zing’ come from the piano, causing my head to pop up. Throughout the set, there were all sorts of flourishes and embellishments.

Over the course of the 100-minute set, the audience was treated to Oscar Peterson’s Thag’s Dance, Charlie Parker’s My Little Suede Shoes, an original ballad entitled Everlasting, and Lion Song, which will appear on Vibe Frontier, a new album scheduled for release in August. Cohen also played Hine Ma Tov, a traditional Hebrew prayer.

My favorite selection of the evening was Count Basie’s Li’l Darlin’, which showcased a mixture of Basie’s signature swing and the Blues. My recollection is that Cohn played it more up-tempo than the Count. I also loved the rag-time encore. That’s the way to send people home yearning for more.

I was not the only satisfied customer. Several people who I spoke to afterwards indicated that they thoroughly enjoyed Cohen and Company.

According to Cohen, the first time he performed in Chicago, there were six people in the audience at PianoForte until one of the musicians invited a homeless person into the performance space. Cohen has come a long way since those days, as evidenced by tonight’s near capacity crowd. When he next returns to Chicago, Cohen will undoubtedly sell the hall out. Hopefully we will not have to wait too long for his return visit.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It. The Images Are Not Necessarily in Exact Chronological Order]