direction and found myself directly in front of Fat Tuesday’s. I entered to discover Cecil Taylor in the midst of an amazing set before a rapt house. Bakir, no longer tentative, stoked the fire in his drums with the power of the wind. Lyons screamed ecstatically through his horn while Cecil dipped and swayed behind the piano with the grace that had eluded him the night before. The set roared to a climax. The crowd exploded in applause. For the first time in two nights, Cecil stood up and smiled. Those critics who annually proclaim that Cecil Taylor is the greatest jazz pianist alive have a strong argument. FRIDAY, AUGUST 7 /visited with Gordon Lee, the former Portland pianist, at his apartment in Brooklyn, and rode back with him to his gig at the One- Fifth, a swank restaurant near Washington Square. Gordon plays with Ben Brown, a bassist who spent three years with Dizzy Gillespie, and Brown’s wife, a singer. Their repertoire includes a fair amount of jazz, but the tune that really knocked ’em dead was Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” a glitzy pat-on- the-back to a corrupt town from a corrupt guy. At the break, loosening his tux, Gordon explained that this wasn’t his idea of an ideal gig, but it is steady work and good money. In Portland, Gordon was my favorite pianist. In New York, he’s competing WITH THE BODY OF COUNT BASIE AND THE FACE OF FIDEL CASTRO, PALMIERI SITS BEHIND HIS PIANO AND DIRECTS HIS BAND TO ALMOST UNIMAGINABLE PEAKS OF POWER. with the greats: Cecil Taylor, Tommy Flanagan, Harold Mabern, Ronnie Mathews and all the rest. Despite the constraints of his current gig, he’s bound to become a better player in that environment. SATURDAY, AUGUST8 /saved the best for last; Cuban saxophonist Paquito D’Riviera and Puerto Rican bandleader Eddie Palmieri in a steaming midnight concert at the Bottom Line, one of the city’s premier showcases. D’Riviera is the former assistant director of Cuba’s most popular group, Irakere. He recently defected to the United States, a move that he’s careful to explain was not so much a political decision as a personal one; he wanted to play jazz with the best players in the world, and that had become impossible with the new freeze in Cuban/American relations. D’Riviera has the potential to be one of the most significant new voices on the alto in years. His technique is already as fluid as any in America. However, he still seems to be getting his feet wet as a leader in jazz settings. His set lacked cohesive swing and was not well-organized. It will be interesting to see in which direction D’Riviera takes his talent. Will he go after the bucks in pop-jazz like David Sanborn or Grover Washington? (A similar decision has ruined Gato Barbieri’s career.) Will he start hanging out with the avant- garde? (I wouldn’t object to a duet album with Arthur Blythe.) Or will he revert to Latin music, translating his Afro-Cuban heritage into the language of contemporary salsa? Of course, he might take the best concepts from each of the above and forge his own path—that would be something to hear. Eddie Palmieri is generally considered to be the greatest and most original composer in Latin music today, introducing elements of classical, jazz and rock while remaining true to his Puerto Rican folklorico roots. With the body of Count Basie and the face of Fidel Castro, Palmieri sits behind his piano and directs his band consisting of six horns, three singers, three percussionists and bass to almost unimaginable peaks of power. A piece will frequently begin with an unaccompanied impressionistic intro by Palmieri, revealing influences from Ravel and Debussy to McCoy Tyner and Cecil Taylor. Once the mood has been properly established, Palmieri pauses, stomps his feet to set the tempo, and kicks the band into action. Layer upon layer of polyrhythms preserved from African ritual drumming and adapted to the New World are fused with passionate Spanish melodies to create a music that is as ancient as the soul of a Mandingo village, as modern as the thoughts that run through one’s head in a crumbling metropolis like New York. Music that takes hold of your mind and body equally and purifies your spirit in a bath of fire. Saturday night was one of those rare nights musicians live for, even geniuses like Palmieri. Everything came together beautifully, so that the band seemed to float through the set as if in a collective dream. Palmieri grinned like a witch-doctor and cut loose for several demonically inspired solos. Baritone saxophonist Ronnie Cuber took an extended solo that brought to mind Lester Young on a bemused tour through Dante’s Inferno. Conga drummer Daniel Ponce, another recent Cuban immigrant (he also appeared with D’Riviera) tirelessly whipped off inventive rhythmic variations punctuated by lightning-quick rolls, while glaring fiercely into the audience. Vocalist Ishmael Quintana abandoned his customary Mr. Niceguy role as emcee to get down to serious business, coming in over the horns with startling power on the coros (vocal repetitions derived from African call-and-response chants). wholesalers of local and organically grown produce hours: Mon.-Fri. 6am-2pm 1030 S.E. 10th Avenue Portland, OR 97214 Phone 234-2118 38 Clinton St. Quarterly
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