Indy Jazz Fest shows had separate spotlights on two local icons

The inimitable Steve Turre as "shellist"

If Indianapolis were ever to erect a jazz Mount Rushmore, it would be universally agreed to represent Wes Montgomery, J.J. Johnson, and Freddie Hubbard in perpetual stone. Their legacies have never been lost sight of here, and the latter two have their niches in the current Indy Jazz Fest. 

The Freddie Hubbard tribute portion of the 2024 official kickoff Saturday was intense, but carried too much compacted energy to suit the confines of the Jazz Kitchen. Taken as a whole, the evening's schedule suggested the expansive vibes of the outdoor extravaganza that historically was always risky from the standpoints of weather and financing. At the risk of sounding like a kindergarten teacher, what I heard last weekend used its outdoor voice, not much of its indoor voice.

It was clear that time constraints were part of the difficulty. It's not just that Hubbard, one of a handful of universally acknowledged jazz masters from Indianapolis, deserved more space. It's that something beyond the three selections that Rob Dixon and the band offered from the stage was desirable. The  saxophonist was flanked in the front line by two powerful trumpeters (Pharez Whitted and Derrick Gardner).

The all-embracing title of Saturday evening was "Naptown Sound," and my impressions apply only to the first two bands: the Hubbard tribute and the Indiana all-state jazz combo, which commendably led off the parade of bands and singers. As an occasion for a wide spectrum of local music, there was certainly a point of local pride to be made in this format. 

Years ago, Lincoln Center jazz czar Wynton Marsalis came up with the word "exuberance" to salute and summarize the Indianapolis trumpeter's contribution to jazz. And last Saturday, drummer Kenny Phelps moved quickly into his most exuberant mode; the rest of the rhythm section gave him the muscular support that was seconded by the hornmen. 

To be fair, Hubbard has had a few outstanding tribute shows here, one of which followed the trumpeter's death (December 2008) by just a few months, when the late David Baker put together a stunning program at the Madame Walker Theatre.  And the trumpeter's centennial year (2038) will be coming up, probably too quickly (and yet too distant) for me to enjoy it. This year's festival is the right time to celebrate J.J., who was born here in 1924. 

Grand blues finale, first set: quite an ensemble, trombone-focused

The two sets Wednesday night directed by and starring Steve Turre were full-fledged and representative. Turre's generosity on the bandstand also had the festival spirit, though a masterly club-date feeling ruled. Two guest trombonists  from other regional jazz centers came onto the stage for the finale, "Steve's Blues," and acquitted themselves well. They were the pungently concise Kevin Ward from St. Louis and the effervescent Lexie Hamner from Cincinnati.

Definitely an old master by now, Turre had been conspicuously devoted to J.J. Johnson's legacy. He came to town for the 2001 memorial service at Light of the World Christian Church and was visibly moved at the passing of his mentor of choice.  When Turre appeared here with his group in the 1990s, Johnson not only showed up to hear him, but introduced the younger master with warm admiration.

Turre opened the first set Wednesday with an arresting version of Johnson's best-known tune, "Lament." Among many other versions, a permanent niche was carved for the piece by Miles Davis and Gil Evans in "Miles Ahead." Turre launched it unaccompanied, slowly and conventionally. Although his chops didn't sound quite ready to stretch out on a ballad, he soon led the band (Steve Allee, piano; Nick Tucker, bass; Kenny Phelps, drums) in an uptempo version of the tune, and then he was in his element. 

My ears quickly got used to this treatment. Jazz accommodates unconventional tempo adjustments if the spirit and skill are exemplary: Years ago, a favorite teenage purchase of mine was "The Jazz Soul of Porgy and Bess," with Bill Potts arrangements and an all-star big band nailing Gershwin affectionately. The LP led off with a sleek and zesty "Summertime," and I've since never insisted that "Summertime" had to be a lullaby to be genuine. I felt the same about "Lament" not requiring a mood of lamentation, especially since Allee's piano solo kept the melody firmly in view.

Rob Dixon came out with his tenor saxophone to add front-line heft to "Why Don't I," another Johnson original, this one with a recurrent echo of the title in its theme. I got a kick out of Turre quoting the  title character's tune from Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf." It was like hearing the work's heroic Russian boy saying to himself, "Why don't I go out and capture that nasty wolf?!"

Flanking the Johnson "tone poem" "Aquarius," when Turre turned to his conch shells to lend a special atmosphere and exotic coloring to its serenity, came "Say When" and "Coffee Pot," two excursions into the heated atmosphere that Johnson could always sail into with exquisite control. Whitted and Dixon were fully aflame in their solo contributions, as was Turre, and the stage was set for those two guest trombonists to put their signatures on the first set's concluding blues. 

It was altogether a banner performance, especially for this listener, who put aside his trombone a half-century ago.

[Photos: Turre playing shells, Mark Sheldon; ensemble, Rob Ambrose]