Mark O'Connor with Jon Burr & Frank Vignola: Hot
Swing!
OMAC Records 4 CD. Mark O'Connor, prod.; Dennis Gaul, eng.
DDD. TT: 50:07.
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| Recording Quality |
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 In my youth, I did
not so much attend college as live in close proximity to a fair number of them. And this,
while doing little for my CV, did wonders for my record collection, since all the best
record stores are in college towns. It was while pursuing my independent studies in
recreational pharmacology in the early '70s that I ran across a stash of French reissues
of La Quintette du Hot Club de France.
I vaguely knew of Django Reinhardt -- after all, MJQ had
named a classic song after him -- but I had no idea what was considered "good"
Django and I had a profound suspicion of French taste in jazz. But something about those
volumes of "Blanc et Noir" recordings seemed promising. Being imports, they were
expensive, so I had to be sure to pick the right one. I pored over my decision for weeks,
torn between desire and the fear that someone might beat me to them. Finally, I chose one
and took it home.
It rocked my world. It wasn't just that Django was a
masterful guitarist -- although he was capable of wildly flailing chording and
phenomenally smooth and swingin' solo runs -- it was the timelessness of the music. It was
recognizably swing, but it wasn't corny or clichéd. It was fresh and sophisticated and it
rocked like nobody's business.
My real discovery, though, was that it wasn't simply
Django's show. Violinist Stephanne Grappelli was, if anything, even faster and more
imaginative than the gypsy guitarist -- and he was possessed of a melodic sense and a sly
sense of rhythm that has rarely if ever been matched.
The two musicians combined simply transcended category.
Django's dark, almost savage intensity met its counterpoint in Grapelli's sweepingly
sensual swoops and fleeting fills. Together, their individual geniuses were taken up a
level.
This is why, as much as I admire Stephanne Grappelli, who
continued to play with passion and panache up until his death in 1997, I never quite
"got" his solo career. He was unquestionably great, but it was when he was
challenged by great partners that he could bear down and strike the spark of genius.
That's why Mark O'Connor's tribute to Grappelli, Hot
Swing!, is so successful. O'Connor, one of the most brilliant instrumentalists of our
time, is actually so good he's kind of scary. He could have approached Hot Swing!
as a chance to grandstand, but he chose instead to pick two musical partners who were
capable of actually challenging him: the acoustic bassist Jon Burr and the brilliant jazz
guitarist Frank Vignola.
Burr is a working bassist and sound engineer, and he brings
a lively sense of swing and a rollicking bottom end to these proceedings. His ability to
keep things moving during the flurries of notes generated by O'Connor and Vignola is
remarkable.
But it's Frank Vignola's extraordinary evocation of Django
Reinhardt that makes this recording work so well. Vignola plays tribute to the masterful
gypsy, capturing his fire, his impassioned chording and his mercurial single string solos
without ever descending into parody. This is remarkable playing and, if you haven't
already been brought up short by the man's phenomenal playing, just hang on -- you soon
will be.
This meeting of equals pushes the music of Hot Swing!
into that rarified realm where the Quintette so often found itself. The sense of momentum
is headlong and, as the soloists trade riff after riff, it's impossible not to be jollied
along. This isn't introspective, brooding jazz. It's kick-your-heels, sunny stuff -- it's
complex music that's easy to enjoy.
The recording is live -- and lively. There's good
instrumental balance among the players, and the instruments are full-bodied and extremely
natural sounding. The recording has superb lateral fill, but not much stage depth, which
may be more of an accurate portrayal of the trio's relative positions than a recording
flaw.
In the end, it scarcely matters. Hot Swing! is a
swinging tribute to a great musician that walks the tricky line between homage and
imitation. It's the real thing and about as close to a perfect pleasure as you can get
with your clothes on. It's far too good to pass up.
...Wes Phillips
wes@onhifi.com
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