Some may remember Tuesday, Oct. 25 as the day of the first snowfall of the academic year, but more will remember it as the night that world-famous Wynton Marsalis played at Dartmouth.
Marsalis' bio took up more than two pages in the program; among other things, he made 40 jazz and classical records, became the first and only artist to win both classical and jazz Grammy Awards and co-founded the jazz program at the Lincoln Center. But such a resume is just flatness on paper -- only by hearing Wynton Marsalis play can one truly pay tribute to his greatness. A sold-out Spaulding crowd started off the night by greeting Marsalis with thunderous applause, to which he graciously bowed his head. Marsalis took the stage with four other amazing musicians: Walter Blanding, Jr. on tenor saxophone, Ali Jackson on drums, Dan Nimmer on piano and Carlos Henriquez on bass.
During the fist song, "Free to Be," the audience sat in awe and took in the scene. Henriquez was wearing an orange shirt and suspenders, looking like the epitome of jazz. Nimmer was bent low over the ivories, his rapidly moving hands reflecting in the newly polished Steinway. Meanwhile, Marsalis was playing with puffed cheeks -- high notes wailing -- and a couple of foot taps here and there, moving the trumpet up with a high pitch, down with a low pitch and side to side when holding out notes that seemed to last an eternity. Needless to say, the audience was mesmerized.
It wasn't until the second song, "Me and You," that the music surpassed the presentation. The song started out with rhythmic clapping, followed by the sonorous bowing of the bass. The piano joined in next, with a mellow muted sound, as a precursor for a soulful trumpet solo. Subdued and simple, the song conjured up images of a city winter, complete with snowy rain hitting the pavement. Marsalis' solo was met with absolute silence and awe. Whereas before the audience was impressed solely by the legend and name, pure admiration was now directed towards the man standing onstage, live and in the flesh. After this point, Marsalis and his group could do no wrong. Each solo was met by applause and every song ended to whistles and loud yells.
The bouncy, upbeat "Number 8" was a real crowd-pleaser. Marsalis started off the number by whistling and Jackson turned away from his drum set, pounding out an infectious beat on his music stand instead. Marsalis said the song was about the Revolutionary War and endeared himself to the audience even more by displaying a witty sense of humor: "We call it 'Number 8' but it is supposed to have fifes in it. Maybe we'll start calling it 'Fifes and Stuff.'" This warm human connection was furthered by Marsalis when he asked the audience to sing happy birthday to Nimmer's four-year old son, who sat on stage the entire concert. A cake with candles was brought out, and mixed voices and jazz instruments joined together in song.
The concert's intimate feel was furthered by the appearance of one of the newest great voices of contemporary jazz. Jennifer Sanon of Miami, Florida wowed the audience with the depth and maturity of her voice. At just 20 years old, Sanon sang with perfect pitch and had impeccable control over her voice. What was most impressive, however, was her connection to the lyrics and her ability to draw the audience into the story of her song. In "Azalea," a story of a man's first love down in New Orleans, she filled the line "cause with you who could be a failure" with such depth and richness that her voice surpassed technicality and entered the realm of musicality.
Sanon was not the only rising star on stage either. Nimmer, just two years her senior, is a prodigy on the jazz piano, and he awed everyone with his dual ability to intuitively blend with the group while simultaneously maintaining an individual musical genius that stood out in his solos. Marsalis should be commended not only for his superior musicianship, but for his gracious encouragement of a younger generation of jazz musicians, who hope to someday achieve both the technical skill and musical perfection that Marsalis himself exemplifies.
