Scat & Santa

Plan yourself a jazzy little Christmas

by Richard C. Walls

What would the holiday be without the traditional slew of jazz Christmas releases, without all those soulful "Silent Night" funky "First Noël," and ring-a-ding "Jingle Bells" versions? I shudder to think.

That these have become a cultural custom is confirmed by the first disc in our seasonal mini-survey, Bending Toward the Light: A Jazz Nativity (Milan), which documents an annual event (since '85) that has become, according to New York magazine, "a holiday tradition along with The Nutcracker, the Radio City Rockettes and the tree in Rockefeller Center." Golly.

Too bad it's such a mess: a grab bag ranging from operatic renderings of scripture to Lionel Hampton (billed as "the King of Jazz") launching into "Flyin' Home." For the first two-thirds of the program nothing lingers too long, so if the hep rendering of "What Child Is This" (AKA "Greensleeves") from vocalists Jackie Cain and Roy Kral doesn't move you, then maybe trumpeter Jon Faddis's ebullient bopping on "We Three Kings" will do the trick. You might even enjoy Jimmy Slyde's tap dancing. Once past all that, we get to the set piece: a 23-minute jam on "Deck the Halls" with more than 20 soloists, ranging from Toots Thielemans (harmonica) to Ursula Dudziak (voice and electronics). This is old-fashioned fun, though not particularly Christmassy.

An altogether more modest pudding is Jazz for Joy: A Verve Christmas Album (Verve). The players are a nonet of youngish turks including trumpeter Roy Hargrove, bassist Christian McBride, and drummer Billy Drummond, showing up in various combinations arranged by Don Sickler, who also plays flügelhorn and produced. Three veteran singers are featured -- Betty Carter, Shirley Horn, and Abbey Lincoln -- each of whom gets two cuts, leaving seven instrumentals. Sickler likes cool minor colors, so holiday schmaltz is avoided. Best of the instrumentals: an infectious "Deck the Halls" done solo by McBride, who accompanies himself on hi-hat; "Those Soulful Jingle Bells," spotlighting the plump Grant Green-ish guitar of Mark Whitfield; and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," realized by Sickler with admirable restraint. Of the singers, Carter is the one most able to make you rehear an old chestnut, Horn the most elegant, and Lincoln the most earthy. No surprises, but it's a cool little set all the same.

For those who find the idea of a Jazz Christmas too raucous, two solo piano discs supply a more reflective mood. True, reflective isn't the first word that comes to mind when you're thinking of Dave Brubeck, but his A Dave Brubeck Christmas (Telarc) has lots and lots of slow ones, including a few numbers cast against type, e.g., "Greensleeves," which jazz players usually exploit for its modal drive but here is an out-of-tempo ballad, and "O Tannenbaum," glacially paced and delicately voiced. This delicacy is a late development in Brubeck's style; his glissandos no longer sound intentionally parodic, as they did in the days of "Strange Meadow Lark." For more up cuts he turns to a galumphing stride-piano approach -- not very smooth, but longtime fans should be charmed. I was.

Irony buffs will want to turn immediately to Cyrus Chestnut's Blessed Quietness (Atlantic) -- the irony being that Brubeck, despite his classical background and past pretensions, remains a guileless player while Chestnut, born and bred in the bosom of the Baptists, is a polished sophisticate. But then Chestnut is an established neo-conservative, part of a movement where consistent musical acuity overrides the kinks of personality. He's a superb interpreter, an impeccable musician with an obvious love for these aged texts, and the format avoids that main neo-con fault, the bloodless solo.

Finally, as if to prove that Christmas songs are not endlessly mutable, we have A Vibraphonic Christmas (Hollywood), which is an example of acid jazz -- a major misnomer since the music so labeled contains little jazz and even less acid. Still, one can understand the impulse to come up with a fresh name (the one this stuff used to be called, which is fuzak, is kind of insulting). The premise is to get a mildly funky well-layered rhythm going and then have some vibes come in to play the melodies foursquare. As concepts go, it's a non-starter. Everybody, including the sax soloist and the vocalists, sounds generic. Maybe that's the acid part: their egos have melded into a sort of über-banality, a cosmic cauldron of creative stasis. In any event, Merry Christmas.