Jazz Pop, Not Pap

Mainstream embrace and consequent commercial viability of jazz is a lost cause according to most jazz purists, who consider the music a high art and their own private reserve. According to some, it's America's classical music. To others, it's the sacred soundscape of the avant-garde.

This denies the obvious pop appeal of a band like Soulive, which recently filled Irving Plaza with some 700 or 800 college-age and 20-something fans doin' the chicken-head peck and vertical body hunch in time to a way loud, virtually endless backbeat.

Soulive and its opening act, alto saxophonist Sam Kininger's band, belong to the r&b/funk/rock wing of the present-day instrumental party, which makes them either faddishly rad or hopelessly retro, depending on which way your personal preferences fall. Jazz traditionalists (à la Lincoln Center) consider this kind of stuff contemptible and beneath them, never mind that jazz was for dancing as far back as the beginning, and undeniable giants including Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller, Louis Jordan, Cannonball Adderly and Miles Davis played to the crowd rather than to some self-defined elite.

Granted, neither Soulive, a trio with background horns, or Kininger's quintet (plus the same horns as guests) are likely to launch a resurgence of respect for the holy jazz canon or ardor for inspired innovation. But that's not what they or their fans are after so much as a raucous good time, jam-band fashion. Both troupes have personnel ties to Dave Matthews Band, the Roots, etc. and antecedents in James Brown's JB's and George Clinton's Horny Horns. This is not Kenny G's or Chris Botti's winsome, diluted jazz-lite pablum. It's all about gritty, concentrated power and would fit fine at a frat bash. In fact, guys outnumbered girls about ten to one by my count from the Plaza balcony, though attending women also appeared to like what they heard.

Yes, there are limitations to this music that justify sophisticates looking down at it. There was no swing feel, only relentless grooves, coming from the drummers, who in both groups were set in front rather than behind the melody instruments, as is typical in jazz and conventional rock or soul, too (Soulive's Alan Evans "sang" too, which maybe he oughtn't-his feature, a cover of War's "Slippin' into Darkness," needs more attention to dynamics, as the dramatic arrival of its climax is what made it great in the first place.) There was little genuine sense of discovery, possibility of breaking form or melodic invention from the lead players. Soulive guitarist Eric Krasno's lines were fluid but seldom memorably shapely or emphatic (his version of Jimi Hendrix's "Crosstown Traffic" was the tune highlight of the night), while Kininger seemed quite content to repeat very simple riffs at highest pressure volume in 4/5s throughout his show.

Nor do these ensembles take true advantage of the many timbral possibilities afforded by their oodles of electronic gear. In fact, amazingly, with four separate keyboards at hand, neither Soulive's Neal Evans (whose piano teacher would abhor his finger-stabbing technique, no matter that it worked for him) nor Kininger's Amy Bowles got much but thin, spongy and twangy tones: a small slice of the palette Stevie Wonder used way back in 1972 with "Superstition" on Talking Book.

If you're going to haul around MIDI piano, synth, organ, clavinet and the like, go for the splashy colors (check out Joe Zawinul in Weather Report or his current Syndicate and Herbie Hancock's Mwandishi albums and Headhunters for tips on this).

Maybe the live mix was partly to blame-there's considerably more midrange nuance and overall attention to arrangements on Soulive's latest album, Break Out. The record employs pro vocalists, too-wailing Chaka Khan on "Back Again," growling 'n' grunting Ivan Neville on "Take It Easy," tenor Corey Glover on "Freedom," and soul warbler Reggie Watts on "What Can You Do," the last of which is getting significant radio play.

Soul singers, backbeats, radio play, Hendrix covers-why don't I concede that's not jazz at all? Because Kininger did cut free for a moment, Krasno and the Evans brothers are intent on being for real and trumpeter Rashawn Ross, shared by both bands, blew in his couple of breaks with an intensity born of Bitches Brew Miles. These are potential gateway groups.

Most newbies come to jazz because their parents had the music at home, or they were hooked by something incidentally blues-drenched and jazz-charged. That being so, the next wave in jazz might start as a video game's incidental music, or some hip ring-tone. Or a band like Soulive sockin' it to restless young 'uns at a hall like Irving Plaza.