Photos by Don Berryman
Among young saxophonists today, there is a tendency to dismantle the horn as much as the melody and harmony. In efforts to outblow Trane and Bird, the sax becomes a weapon of mass deconstruction, not in service to art but strictly as a sonic experiment. Simply, how many sounds can you get from the horn? Yet there are a few in the thirty-something generation who insist on maintaining a connection between sound and musical purpose, whether that purpose is on the outer edge of reason (Chris Potter comes to mind) or, in the case of Eric Alexander, creatively within the wide bounds of bop.

This week, at the Dakota in Minneapolis (and moving on to the Cellar in Vancouver, BC), tenorman Alexander more than lived up to what Downbeat critic Paul de Barros claimed as "proof positive that an engaging, personal voice can still be forged from historical styles." Over his three-night, six-set engagement, he reminded listeners that even the most sophisticated post bop excursions can spring from beautifully crafted melodic lines without the obbligato squeals and shrieks that we expect from his generation of technical wizards.

Not that Alexander has any shortcomings in his technical arsenal, for his fingering is fleet and sure, his vibrato deep and narrow, his rich and crystalline tone “a huge, voluptuous embrace… a classic combination of weight and precision…” (Neil Tesser, liner notes for the new High Note recording, Dead Center). Often compared to his idol George Coleman, Alexander is nevertheless a singular voice, at times conjuring the spirits of Coltrane and Henderson, Mobley and Getz, even Turrentine and early Rollins, but the fusion is his alone. The melody never quite escapes, the detours generally remain in the neighborhood, but the space between the first and final bars will be filled with spirited and collaborative inventions in which he “slaloms through the gnarliest harmonic sequences, deftly manipulates timbre, and swings incessantly” (Ted Panken on Nightlife in Tokyo).

On his current tour, those collaborative inventions are the empathetic efforts of guitarist Peter Bernstein, Hammond B-3 virtuoso Mike LeDonne, and frenetic timekeeper Joe Farnsworth.

Peter Bernstein is a rising star among New York musicians, picking influences from Charlie Christian and Wes Montgomery to Grant Green, Kenny Burrell, and Jim Hall, and keeping busy in the company Jimmy Cobb, Lou Donaldson, Melvin Rhyne, Larry Goldings, and Bill Stewart, in addition to projects with Alexander and LeDonne. On the Dakota stage he typically took the second detour, from moderate to uptempo single lines of multi-textured variations, showing his dazzling note-bending dexterity throughout but most enjoyably on Stanley Turrentine’s “Let it Go” and LeDonne’s “Prayer for Mary.”

Mike LeDonne built his reputation as a pianist (a favorite of Oscar Peterson) and spent 11 years with Milt Jackson. His organ chops are no trifling matter, however, and he has recently been holding court regularly on the Hammond B-3 at New York City’s Smoke. His recent release, Smokin’ Out Loud (Savant, 2004), features the same quartet with Bernstein, Farnsworth, and Alexander. With Eric Alexander’s quartet, LeDonne frequently provided the initial harmonic foundation for the tenor and guitar, only to take off on his own with clusters of increasingly complex chords seeking the apogee of the sonic orbit. In supporting roles he provided subtle grooves, always with just enough flourish to maintain the momentum. LeDonne’s talents as composer were on display as well, from “One for Don” – a subtle percolator that warmed to a bubbling vibe before ripping the mesh completely—to the exhilarating madness of “Eleven Years.”

And Joe Farnsworth? While Hurricane Ivan washed ashore along the Gulf, another Category 5 Storm was on stage a thousand miles north, a relentless gale of sticks on skins, always driving, usually from the backseat, with a continuous ricochet of splattering sticks, feather-touch brushes, and assertive mallets—often in quick succession. On occasion he reached further into his bag of percussive tricks, rubbing sticks together as if to create more fire in one set and taking a solo using nothing but the hi hat (from top to bottom) in another.

From set to set, Eric Alexander displayed the “confidence, flair, and relaxed abandon” (Rico Reeds) that has signaled his emergence as “the reigning heir of a mainstream tenor tradition” (as anointed by Neil Tesser). He soared above the head without swooping and hollering, invigorated without eviscerating the melodic core, tipped his horn to Coltrane on “After the Rain” without imitating the legend. Frequently leading the melody back home, Alexander often added a final twist, a looping cadenza on “Georgia” or a closing “But Beautiful” crescendo on one of the few ballads of the gig. “The Shadow of Your Smile” hinted at a mild vibrato cousin of Ben Webster, while “Eleven Years” proved to be a master class in incendiary blowing under the influence—the influence of song and harmony.

Individual talents aside, the quartet sang with a polished empathy. Their structures were generally conservative and predictable—the sax in the lead-off position followed by a second solo from the guitar, a sometimes brief, sometimes expansive retelling from the organ, and typically short bursts of explosives from the drums. Yet within these boundaries, the blueprints were set aside, the improvisations full of surprise and inspired interplay. While just about everyone has bowed to the late Ray Charles this summer with yet another reading of “Georgia,” this quartet rose above the “old sweet song” as the drums rolled out a delta-tinged drape, the organ whiffed a blue haze, and the guitar and sax added long swirling waves. The group effort was the force that cooked through each set, burning with energy (“One for Don” and “Eleven Years”) or building from one voice to another in a seamless conversation (“Shadow of Your Smile”).

One of the most distinctive characteristics of Eric Alexander is his very upright posture, keeping his sax vertical and steady even through the most vigorous, blistering passages. “I try not to move at all,” he said between sets. “If I move, it changes my sound.” What is not static is the invention and passion in his music. On this basis, Eric Alexander is always in motion.

You can hear this same quartet in action on Mike LeDonne’s new Savant recording, Smokin’ Out Loud; Eric Alexander just released a new quartet effort on High Note, Dead Center, featuring Harold Mabern on piano, John Webber on bass, and Joe Farnsworth again on drums. For more information, visit www.ericalexanderjazz.com