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Chicago free-jazz icon Fred Anderson keeps on blowing
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Anderson, blowing strong. (photo: Velvetlounge.net)
Like a couple of aging gunslingers, the tenor saxophonists squared off on-stage at the Velvet Lounge. Attired in a black shirt and gray slacks, his back bent in a permanent question mark, the 80-year-old Fred Anderson gave no quarter to his longtime friend, the all-black clad Kidd Jordan, during this post-Chicago Jazz Fest all-star free-jazz freakout. After all, this was Anderson's house, his town, as Chicago continued to celebrate the octogenarian champion of challenging jazz and proprietor of the venerable Velvet. Certainly, Jordan, no kid at age 74, was up to the task and then some, blowing the wild, scabrous solos that have made him a vaunted figure in the avant-garde jazz world for decades. But Anderson, well, he's something else again. Bespectacled and somewhat frail-looking, he blew with power and beauty and grace, probing and examining different avenues as he scrupulously examined whatever progression interested him, his tone and energy never flagging. (For a taste of the Anderson-Jordan matchup, check out Anderson's excellent new recording, 21st Century Chase, which was recorded at the Velvet earlier this year.)
Songs, such as they were, went on for an hour, as the men tirelessly interacted with an extraordinary ensemble of avant-garde giants: Muhal Richard Abrams, perched on a phone book atop a padded kitchen chair to bring his lanky frame to the height of the electric keyboard; the moon-faced Hamid Drake, exquisitely providing rhythmic touches and flourishes on the drum kit; the cottony-bearded and soulful-eyed Henry Grimes, plucking and bowing bass alongside Chi-town stalwart bassist Harrison Bankhead; the grim-faced Oliver Lake, who unpacked his alto after striding into the Velvet from a previous trio gig; and the diminutive but mighty Douglas Ewart, who added his powerful soprano to the mix.
A summit meeting of some of the most adventurous pioneers in jazz — including founding members of the influential Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians — the two long sets hardly disappointed. The Velvet was crammed with listeners from start to finish, and the only spot available to me for the second set was perched on a step to the right of the stage. From this vantage, I could peer over Abrams' shoulder, watch his long, darting fingers stabbing the keys with percussive precision.
Anderson, who celebrated his 80th birthday in March, was the senior member of the aggregate, and perhaps its most energetic player. Ultimately, not even Jordan could keep up, as he stamped his feet, dramatically clutched his chest and let out a cry of joy and mock consternation as he heavily took a seat. And, mind you, Anderson had played earlier in the day at the Jazz Festival in Grant Park, in a somewhat abbreivated but no less stringently creative and forceful performance alongside bassist Josh Abrams and drummer Drake. He and Jordan had been hanging out at the park, too, checking out flutist Nicole Mitchell and her Black Earth Ensemble, who got their launch at the Velvet. And now, here he was, some 10 hours later, looking as if he could go another 10, no sweat.
A note in the liners to the exceptional if somewhat rough-sounding recent trio recording Staying in the Game says it all. "Fred Anderson would like to thank God," it reads, "for keeping him here so he can play jazz." Plenty of jazz lovers would say amen to that.
For more info: Velvetlounge.net, Aacmchicago.org
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