I Saw Jason Moran at the Missouri History Museum Last Night

by Steve Pick

My wife and I were discussing the state of jazz today the other night, and I remarked that it's pretty darn difficult to know what to say about the contemporary scene. This is primarily, of course, because years ago, jazz fragmented into a dozen different niche styles, but it's also because, unless you're living in New York with access to every obscure tiny record label, you're not able to hear a wide enough assortment of new jazz to know what's going on.

Now, Jason Moran has benefited from recording for Blue Note Records, and from an association at times with Cassandra Wilson which has kept his name in front of even casual jazz fans. But, as much as I've loved his records over the last ten years, I was not quite prepared for the technical and emotional range he displayed in this wonderful solo concert.

Moran opened with a powerhouse rendition of "Lift Every Voice and Sing," the James Weldon Johnson composition from the turn of the last century which eventually became a Civil Rights anthem. Relying on the luscious chords to conjure up all the powerful associations the song has had over the years, Moran pulled out all the tricks in his pianistic bag, ranging from simple two or three note patterns to complex rhythmic poundings of massive chords. It was a workout for his body and his mind - he said he needed to open with this piece because he'd been backstage drinking Jack Daniels and he needed to get the drunkenness pumped out. It worked.

Then came an equally old piece, Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer." But, this was not Robert Redford's "Entertainer." All the chords and melodies of the famous piece were there, but the piece started off slow and mournful, as though at the end of the life of a clown, looking back on the thrills and the regrets of a life spent making other people laugh and clap. There were moments where the joy could be glimpsed of the classic version, but always with a whistful twinge of sorrow, which occasionally overwhelmed everything. It was a stunningly beautiful rendition.

What else? There was the version of "Body and Soul" which began as he played along with his ipod giving us Eddie Jefferson's vocalese rendition of Coleman Hawkins' brilliant and iconic 1939 solo of same. Jen, who was at the show with me, said this sounded a little like watching somebody practice on stage, which I understood as it was largely a feat of memorization, but I was impressed with the meta levels of an imitation of an imitation of an original recorded improvisation on a classic composition. And, besides, Moran's own rendition of "Body and Soul" was fascinating, with an avoidance of the overly luscious take on the melody we've heard many times.

There were two pieces, one long one short, based on foreign languages. Moran is fascinated by the sounds of the human voice, and he's had people in other countries record themselves speaking so he can turn it into music. The rhythms and the melodies of casual conversation in Turkish were absolutely riveting, while the frenetic take on Mandarin Chinese reporting stock market figures was funny. Two Monk pieces, "Crepuscle With Nellie" and "Thelonious" were proof once again that anybody with skill and an inventive personality can find bottomless fountains of inspiration in the work of that master. "Crepuscle," in particular, was hauntingly beautiful and his solo was slickly constructed on the familiar tune.

Finally, there was Moran's take on Afrika Bambaata's "Planet Rock," a popular music composition of the 80s which only someone of Moran's age, who loved the song as a teenager, could turn into a powerful jazz treatment. The simple melodies and delightful chord changes led to rhythmically dynamic developments as Moran alternately pounded and caressed the keyboard.

The opening act was a group of local players I've never seen before, which featured three numbers with the great vocalist / tenor saxophonist Hugh "Peanuts" Whalum. This guy has been playing around town for 60 years, and he has every bit of the vitality he undoubtedly had as a young guy just getting started in jazz, added to the imagination of someone who has seen and heard it all. Oh, to get inside the head of someone who could reminisce on stage about the time he played in an after hours club on Vandeventer with Jimmy Forrest, Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt.

Kudos to the Missouri History Museum for bringing in such a major talent for a ridiculously reasonable price (and with free drinks on top of it). Let's hope they do more of this sort of thing.