“[T]o be and stay a great musician, you’ve got to always be open to what’s new, what’s happening at the moment.” Miles Davis made this remark in his autobiography when discussing the rejuvenating influence brought on by the young musicians of his so-called Second Great Quintet. Herbie Hancock had just turned 23 when he was tapped by Davis to man the piano bench—a move that skyrocketed Hancock to the most rarefied heights of the jazz firmament where he has remained for the past half century.
The quartet that shook the walls of the Pabst Theater on Friday, October 20, shows the 77-year-old Hancock to have internalized the lesson that he helped teach Miles Davis all those years ago. For two ecstatic hours, Hancock and his intergenerational compatriots blended jazz, R&B, funk and hip-hop into an experience that was as unclassifiable as it was triumphant.
Hancock emerged to a rousing ovation and strode the stage blowing kisses to the audience before the quartet launched into the first tune, which, like the rest of the set list, was marked by a thick groove, indifferent melodic content and lengthy solos of the highest virtuosity. Hancock favored his Korg Kronos synthesizer and cajoled sounds from the instrument recalling at turns a Clavinet (think Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition”), a heavenly choir and a Karlheinz Stockhausen conniption fit. Frequently he toggled over to a concert grand piano with an illuminated interior and occasionally played parallel lines with each hand allocated to a different keyboard.
As the first tune drew to an orgiastic close, Hancock returned to his proscenium perch to welcome, thank and introduce. Milwaukee holds a special place in his heart; it’s the city where Hancock played some of his earliest professional gigs with Donald Byrd and Pepper Adams’ band.
He spared no superlatives in introducing his sidemen. He described drummer Vinnie Colaiuta as one of a kind in the universe, even arousing suspicion that the fusion legend was behind the Big Bang (which Colaiuta affirmed with an apropos tom-tom thud). Bassist James Genus was the most unassuming fourth of the quartet, holding down the bottom end and stepping out for only one solo. His service as the subliminal funk engine fit Hancock’s portrait of Genus as an in-demand musician who has been hiding in plain sight as the bassist for the “Saturday Night Live” band. The youngest member of Hancock’s group is multi-instrumentalist (alto saxophone, keyboards, vocals) Terrace Martin, who co-produced Kendrick Lamar’s acclaimed To Pimp a Butterfly and will be producing Hancock’s next album.
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To some degree the music was afflicted by a vague sameness. The quartet trades in jams over pedal points, which eschew twisting and turning harmonic structures in favor of burrowing ever deeper into the groove. Consequently, melodic threads were scarce, which, although it says much for the fecundity of the musicians’ imaginations, can leave listeners hungering for more to chew on. Still, the quartet’s connection can only be described as umbilical, and their free improvisations were contained within strict frameworks that reasserted themselves at unexpected points, revealing deeper forms than a casual listen would suggest.
If Hancock’s current direction does not satisfy all the desires of a straight-ahead jazz fan, it should win him a new generation of devotees weaned on hip-hop, R&B and jam bands—genres that Hancock himself helped shape with his work during the 1970s and ’80s. Hancock’s Terrace Martin-produced album promises to be an interesting next chapter in the storied discography of a great musician who has remained open to what’s new; what’s happening at the moment.
