Kelly with 'nohawk' played a final set at the Dakota©Andrea Canter

The Dakota billed it as the “Kelly Rossum Farewell Weekend.” And relative to the usual nightclubby atmosphere present most weekends at an otherwise serious music club, the ambience was celebratory but respectful of the music. Kelly came to play. We came to thank him for over a decade of the creative, intriguing, sometimes humorous, always challenging music that he spattered across stylistic boundaries, leaving a bevy of empty trumpet chairs in his wake. We came to hear Kelly Rossum, now New York trumpeter. There were no disappointments.  

Kelly Rossum©Andrea Canter

“Mr. Blueberry,” Kelly once told us, was a beloved cat. I first heard this tune during one of Kelly’s Jazz Book Club sessions at MacPhail, when he played a preview of his fourth release, Family. You could easily imagine a large cat with an uneven gait, Garfield-like in his combination of sleek grace and playful stagger. Maybe you have to own a cat, particularly an aging cat, to understand the origin of the rhythm. But “Mr. Blueberry” apparently has multiple personas. Friday night, Kelly ascribed the inspiration to a cowboy, and sure enough, there was a bit of western cowpoke swagger in the muted trumpet’s dance. Last night, dedicating the tune to John Rossum (brother? cousin?), Kelly described it as a country tune—or as close to country as he could manage. Again, the performance seemed to fit the tale, now with a more acerbic twang, still a fantasia for mute, and with a noticeable key shift about two verses from the end, returning that country vibe to jazzcentric post bop. 

Chris Bates contributed “This Is Where My Head Is At” (or maybe it was two of the bassist’s tunes merged together, Kelly mentioning “What My Thought Is” on the second night). A continuing thread resembled “Greensleeves” in deep minor, and the rhythm section created a percussive storm swirling around the trumpet’s mournful cry. A trio of Kelly’s most memorable compositions closed the set, the elegant “Fly Away” (written for Ray Brown, who passed away a day or two before a scheduled gig at the old Dakota), the snakey “Seduction,” where Kelly’s hands gracefully dance with the mute, and the multi-layered “Sand Dunes” from his first recording (Party's Over/Begun). The final tune roared like a big band chart from a multi-horn front line, then, like a sand dune, swirling, disguising its shape, appearing and reappearing with sudden revelations. Among those revelations---the boundless imagination of Bryan Nichols, the depth of the arsenal of JT Bates, the big ears of Chris Bates. And the amount of musicianship that will be displaced to Manhattan. 

Kelly rossum©Andrea Canter

It’s not that there aren’t artistic challenges in the Twin Cities. Kelly would be the first to tell you that we have some of the finest jazz musicians in the world right here, including three who performed with him this weekend. Just about two years ago, he told his Jazz 101 class at MacPhail that a recent trip to New York convinced him that the grass was not greener, that the standard of artistic excellence was as high here as anywhere. But it’s not the same environment. The Big Apple pond is much bigger, the lights—and scrutiny—more focused. And New York needs to hear Kelly Rossum.  Should hear Kelly Rossum. I hope he does so well in New York that he finds he can live anywhere, even back here in Minneapolis.  

One party’s over. Another begun. 

Read about Kelly Rossum’s Jane Matteson Award here.

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