Monday, June 05, 2000
Kenny G's dull jazz pleases fans
By Chris Varias
Enquirer contributor
A Kenny G concert is dullsville. It's the place where jazz comes to die, sinking to that netherworld known as smooth jazz.
But don't tell any of that to the G fans at Riverbend Saturday night.
They enjoyed the lulling effects of tepid saxophone notes oozing into the cool June night air.
They enjoyed Mr. G's showiness, the way he easily tore off a flurry of notes, and the way he held a note for 21/2 minutes, although such maneuvers signified nothing beyond showiness.
They knew they were getting their money's worth when his six-man band joined him at the front of the stage and sang “Happy Birthday” to him. (He turns 44 today). Some woman presented him with a cake and a candle, and the crowd — giddy with an excitement as if they were witnessing the most spontaneous moment in live music since Jim Morrison dropped his trousers — sang along.
After blowing out the candle (exhaling is his thing; he continued to blow on it 10 seconds after the flame was gone), he said he was left speechless by the surprise. The “spontaneity” of the event and what followed felt as false as the lowest reaches of showbiz.
The band left the stage, and he made like he didn't expect them to go. “I don't know what to do now,” he said, and the crowd giggled in turn. Then, acting as if a novel and unexpected idea had just struck him, he said he could play “What a Wonderful World” to a tape of Louis Armstrong's vocals. What a stroke of luck the tape happened to be cued up, and an accompanying video of Mr. Armstrong singing the song was ready to go!
Most every performance on the night was dull, but they weren't overtly offensive. His band was comprised of good musicians, but they were harnessed by smooth jazz, light rock, light light rock, light funk, light Latin funk, and light R&B arrangements.
“What a Wonderful World,” however, was offensive. Mr. Armstrong's original was an unadorned, understated beauty and a melancholy classic. Saturday's rendition was a horror: bland, prerecorded smooth jazz topped off by Mr. G's overwrought riffs, each florid blast trampling Satchmo's memory further down into the ground. Mr. Armstrong's voice conjured up visions of a plain and simple world; Kenny's sax painted a new-age nightmare of purple unicorns, magic rainbows and Smurf villages.
The funny thing is, Mr. Armstrong is one of the most significant figures in jazz, and Mr. G might be jazz's most commercially successful player. May Mr. G enjoy his birthday, and may Mr. Armstrong rest in peace.
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