Jam-jazz trio Medeski, Martin and Wood busted through Clearwater Jazz Holiday's smooth pretensions, drawing a younger crowd to the event and adding some psychedelic liveliness to Saturday night's festivities.
MMW played in their trademark style, one that delicately balances focused tightness with casual interplay. Drummer Billy Martin held down the rollicking, syncopated rhythms and added rich textures with his various noise-making instruments and devices. Billy Wood funked it up on electric and upright bass, occasionally busting out a bow to stroke the strings for spacey soundscapes. John Medeski — on organ, piano and electronic keyboards — laid out a gritty mélange of sounds, favoring sonic exploration over conventional jazz improvisation. Some of his excursions came in bracing bursts, prompting the exit of the more faint of heart in the crowd.
The grassy expanse directly in front of the stage, reserved for corporate guests, media, aficionados and a smattering of dedicated fans, was sectioned off from the multitudes. These folks sat primly in white folding chairs as they waited for the show to start. Midway through the set, most of the chairs were empty. The garden-variety smooth-jazz lovers — those with little interest in inventive music — were jumping ship in a steady trickle. The rest of the dwindling bunch shimmied their way up front and danced with merry abandon.
MMW performed a smattering of selections that spanned several albums from their 16-year career. Because it was a free festival, the threesome played a more accessible show than it might otherwise, but didn't entirely rein in the freeform elements — the second number paired Billy Martin's jaunty percussion antics with hard-grooving breaks.
The set featured breezy numbers as well as dark and heavy jams. And the trio seemed to be having a grand old time, with bodies moving all over Coachman Park. The show ended with a fireworks display, but MMW kept their onstage energy flowing and held the crowd's attention in spite of the dazzling explosions at their backs. This spectacular climax made up for the lack of encore.
When Chan Marshall — aka Cat Power — announced an eight-minute break less than an hour into her Sunday night gig, you could almost hear the collective "uh oh" from the crowd.
Audience chatter around me centered on whether or not Marshall would even find her way back to the stage at all. Given Marshall's, shall we say, checkered reputation as a live act (songs cut off halfway, back to the audience, on-stage meltdowns), the audience's pessimism was understandable, even though Marshall and her four-piece backing band had been killing everything they touched up until then.
Marshall in particular had been outstanding, stalking left and right, her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail and a baggy white button-down billowing around her. Her voice sounded good and the audience was treated to a lot of material included on her upcoming covers disc, Jukebox. Marshall even acted the part of showwoman, bending down to sing with extra authority and reaching out to touch hands with the front row. She seemed well on her way to putting her spotty live reputation to bed.
Then the break — which she announced was due to the heat.
Oh well. Good while it lasted, I figured. After hitting the men's room and the bar, I sauntered back, and there was Marshall, bent over at the front of the stage, handing out bottles of beer and red plastic cups full of water to the fans up front. A couple minutes later, she was tossing ice cubes into the crowd while her band ripped into the next number, kick-starting another hour of material.
Sometimes, I guess, an eight-minute break is just an eight-minute break.
—Cooper Levey-Baker
This article appears in Oct 24-30, 2007.