Valentine's Day

by Alan Greenblatt

Valentine's Day is nobody's favorite holiday but I have found in recent years that it's an easy time to find balladeers. It's a little more hand-holding but not too many more love songs than a normal singers' set. In recent years on the date I've heard Carol Sloane, Jane Monheit and, last night, Dianne Reeves at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater.

Reeves is a singer with all the goods. She has a beautiful, bright voice that is kept from sounding too metallic by a slight vibrato. She's also a terrific musician, someone who listens to the other players and can improvise fine melodies. She knows how to convey sheer delight as well as low-down blues.

Nothing in last night's show matched the sheer energy and inspiration of her appearance in the same room a couple years back with Terence Blanchard, but that's asking a lot. The highlights came in moments when Reeves sang just against the bass (Reuben Rogers), using that simple backdrop and rhythm to open up, alternatively, a world of pain with a song about love's betrayal and a whole new, bouncy song conjured up on the spot.

The Bay Area jazz publicist and historian Grover Sales used to say that you could tell singers with a real feeling for jazz because they all marry jazz musicians. That's a rule of thumb that holds up surprisingly well (it's true of Ella Fitzgerald, Madeline Eastman, Jessica Molaskey, etc., etc.) but it's probably more sound just to say that a real singer-musician will surround herself with other musicians who can swing and improvise.

That was true last night. Reeves' regular trio -- Rogers, Peter Martin on piano and drummer Greg Hutchinson -- were quality players, if not world beaters. What was striking was that they consistently played aggressive and interesting music behind Reeves, following and challenging her. This stands in contrast to so many singers who like to be the sole focus of aural attention with just a little plink-plink going on behind them for support.

We also went to the Terrace Theater on Friday night to hear a set by a group called the Dizzy Gillespie All-Star Alumni band, made up of those who had actually played with Diz, including James Moody and Jimmy Heath, and those obviously inspired by him (Jon Faddis must have been busy that night). It was a full 17-piece band, dressed in black suits and shirts, gold ties and open collars, and offered two strong points -- players who could not only make good charts roar, but were also strong soloists, and also a stage full of musicians who were all clearly having a wonderful time.

They played the Gillespie songs you'd expect -- "Manteca," "Woody'n You," "A Night in Tunisia." What was great about this tribute show among so many others was that there was really no attempt to sound like Dizzy. The trumpet players, whose ranks included Randy Brecker and Claudio Roditi, weren't even the main focus of the music.

The band just played his stuff, as well as some Monk, Benny Carter and bossa nova, much of it arranged by the leader and trombone player Slide Hampton. It did sound arranged -- sections played off one another, rather than just sounding a theme and then sitting out while a soloist played above the rhythm section (which included the great pianist Mulgrew Miller and a good drummer, new to me, named Dennis Mackrel).

Many highlights: We had a parade of five trombone players taking turns at the mike; those steady old hands Heath, Moody and Frank Wess following each other on sax and listening to others' with obvious delight; even stronger solos from the less-celebrated sax players Antonio Hart and baritone Gary Smulyan. All with a lot of energy and, as I said, affection. Not too shabby.