All that Jazz – Reviewed by Alec Nesbitt
Kathy Mordeaux’s jazz concert at Christ’s Episcopal Church on March 9th was another not-to-be-missed musical event and yet too many among us did miss it. Here’s why they shouldn’t have.
As too few of our congregation seem to know, our Director of Music isn’t only remarkably good at the sacred stuff, she’s a jazz musician of exceptional talent and insight. “All That Jazz”, her superbly constructed concert-with-narrative, would have been right at home in Carnegie Hall where they favor the same piano Kathy does: the Steinway Concert Grand. The one Kathy plays never sounded as good as it did last Sunday when Bob Fosse’s “All That Jazz” slithered out of the grand instrument, telling us we were in for a rare treat. Ms. Mordeaux was most ably accompanied by Jerry Montgomery on drums, Mark Shively on bass guitar, and – in a memorable solo appearance - by the Reverend Paul Spurlock on saxophone.
Kathy’s formidable musical sophistication was disarmingly embellished by her commentary between numbers, one such recalling her childhood in Kiowa, Colorado, an origin that seems light-years distant from the urbane accomplishments of her distinguished career, not least of which includes a concert she sang as a choirmember with Dave Brubeck during her university days.
“Sentimental Journey”, “Strutters’ Ball” and “Golden Slippers” were all interpreted in a jazz dialect of consummate perception and playful inventiveness. While watching her, I recalled Vladimir Horowitz at Carnegie Hall sixty-odd years ago, how his suavity among all musical idioms made him seem like a god who endowed the simplest phrase with subtly divine humor. That’s the level of music Kathy delivered on Sunday afternoon.
“Deep River”, arranged by Larry Shackley, was inspired by Mahalia Jackson’s early TV performances and was so deeply felt that it became mesmerizing. Then came Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five”, performed as though Kathy had written it, a concert piece in the grand manner, her introspective summation of the jazz phenomenon in the modern world.
“Stardust” was Fats Waller’s arrangement that begins as though it might be a Maurice Ravel composition but soon becomes quintessential “Fats” and then Ravel again and back and forth in the worldly, playful style of the 1930s – a hell of a heavenly performance. There isn’t a nuance of phrasing in all of music that escapes Kathy.
Jerome Kern’s “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” had, or course, the expected ironic lilt but, as it developed, Kathy gave us a glimpse of melancholy that would break a heart of stone. It was as though I’d never heard it. I only wish Arlen and Koehler could have heard what Kathy did with their “Stormy Weather”. They’d have been proud they’d written it.
The surprise of the afternoon was Patti Saltzman – Kathy’s kid sister no less – whose vocal interpretations of arias from “Porgy and Bess” were sung with a profound understanding of Gershwin’s creation and with an exquisitely sensitive voice. Her “My Man’s Gone Now”, the opera’s towering tragic soliloquy, reduced many to tears, fulfilling Gershwin’s well-known intention. And when she sang “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?” we all realized that Ms. Saltzman deserves a wide, national audience.
“Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child”, arranged by Larry Shackley, and the Mark Hayes arrangement of “Just a Closer Walk With Thee” evoked the debt we owe the American South, yearning reminders that we are of many cultures – closely bound - that each helps to make us the people we are.
The closer: “When the Saints Come Marching In”, began as the traditional dirge and evolved into a stomping celebration of the promise of resurrection. There were obvious echoes of the Preservation Hall Band in every note – to be sure - but Kathy’s interpretive intelligence imparted a new level of feeling to a composition that is, essentially, sacred, reminding me that, after all was sung and done, she remains our beloved Director of Music and that we are greatly blessed to be her disciples.
