Ken Vandermark’s Edition Redux at BOP STOP at The Music Settlement

Ken Vandermark's Edition Redux
BOP STOP at The Music Settlement
Cleveland, OH
February 27, 2024

Every jazz concert brings an experience that you've never had before and likely weren't expecting. In the case of the Cleveland concert by protean saxophonist Ken Vandermark's Edition Redux, the source was a new Apple Watch that helpfully issued a dangerous sound level warning when the volume inside BOP STOP hit 97 decibels.

The concert was the band's second presented by the New Ghosts organization in 11 months, at least notionally. BOP STOP was the first concert of the band's debut tour in April 2023, but because keyboard player erez dessel couldn't make that date, tubist Beth McDonald and drummer Lily Finnegan played one set as a duo while Vandermark offered a solo set. Dessel was on board for this, the final stop of the Edition's tour, a nice bit of symmetry, and his presence contributed to the energy level—and the volume—of the concert.

It started right from the downbeat when the band tore into "Other Nickels, Other Dimes," a raucous vamp in 10 led by Dessel's overdriven Wurli sound and Vandermark's dirty bari. The punkish fury of the band's attack would return often during the 14-composition, two-set concert. But just as prominent were the moments of wide-angle, sometimes spectral, stasis, at times lacerated by shrieks from Vandermark's clarinet. This is a band that throws everything into the mix, including elements of electronics and the contemporary classical music that was a big part of McDonald's practice, and the brawling, sharp-elbowed blowing that has characterized many of Vandermark's projects over the three decades since his arrival in Chicago.

Yet while the energy level was always high, even in moments of tense repose, so was the degree of ensemble discipline. Midway through the opening medley, a blistering piano/tenor freakout snapped smartly into a marcato piano and drum figure. Structures were not always easy to discern, but they were present, as when McDonald cued a series of duets in that medley and elsewhere.

The first set closed with "Velocity Dub," which moved through a jittery, piano/tuba duet, a unison riff where Vandermark's tenor and Finnegan's kit locked in with the precision of the JBs and an unaccompanied solo for tuba. It came to a thrashing close with the quartet wailing like a '70s-era funk band with a sudden case of the Arkestras, Vandermark swaying and honking on tenor like a bar walker.

The second set brought more provocations. A unison figure for tuba and bari rose to a crescendo only to stop and restart again, almost an outtake from Live-Evil complete with Keith Jarrett's snotty Rhodes. Moments of delicacy came in a tiptoe passage for piano and clarinet that fell apart and came back together like a pair of dancers who, after missing a step, scrambled to catch up.

During the final medley, a frantic, Braxtonian clarinet figure cued a marine episode of Finnegan's underwater cymbal washes and sea lion roars from McDonald, but the calm didn't hold for long. The evening ended the way it began with Dessel banging out a 4/4 funk vamp on his Nord synth with the dirty Rhodes sound of Chick Corea's in Miles Davis' so-called Lost Quintet. Finnegan punched out an urgent groove in call and response with McDonald and Vandermark's tenor, and the tubist and Dessel each blazed through wall-crashing solo statements before it was all over.

Almost. The appreciative, 40-strong crowd (not bad for a Tuesday evening in flyover country) asked for an encore and Vandermark responded with "Shinkansen Dream." A line that Vandermark said came to him in a dream while on a tour of Japan, it flew by with the velocity of the titular bullet train, one minute, 30 seconds of riotous, cackling thrash jazz.

It was an impressive display of stamina from Vandermark, who will turn 60 in September, though he looks two decades younger. Maybe he's caught the secret of Art Blakey who famously remarked on At Night at Birdland (Blue Note, 1954), "I'm gonna stay with the youngsters. When these get too old I'll get some younger ones. Keeps the mind active."

Blakey was famous for the tough-love paternalism of his Jazz Messengers, but Vandermark will have none of that. "I want to thank Lily, Erez and Beth for making music sound easy that is not easy to play," he said from the stage before adding, sotto voce, "I'm not their mentor. They're my mentors."

Maybe so. Keeps the mind active.

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