NEW ORLEANS, LA – The crowd for Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter’s show Sunday (April 24) at New Orleans Jazz Fest took up every seat and spilled out beyond the Zatarains / WWOZ Jazz Tent. The MC warned everyone to stay out of the aisles, reminding them of tragic incidents at overcrowded concerts in the past. When was the last time someone was trampled at a jazz show?
When Hancock sat down at the piano and Shorter picked up his soprano sax, the music they played sounded like the conversation of two old friends, sharing memories, telling jokes. Like friends who have a deep history, and can finish each others sentences.
It was as if we’d all been allowed to eavesdrop on two geniuses.
Hancock and Shorter’s past takes in a wide swath of jazz’s history. And the two of them had leading role much of that history. They were half of Miles Davis’ Second Great Quarter (the first featured John Coltrane, whose son Ravi played Jazz Fest on Saturday with Jack DeJohnette and Matt Garrison). The pair played on Davis’ first fusion album, “In a Silent Way,” and Shorter continued with Davis on “Bitches Brew.”
As leaders, they produced some of the greatest jazz recorded. And Shorter co-founded the celebrated fusion group Weather Report. In 1997, the pair won a Grammy for a song on their duet album “1+1.”
The first song Hancock and Shorter played at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival presented by Shell stretched across most of the set.
It began with as many rests as notes. The two, somewhat tentatively at first, tossed phrases back and forth. Soon they were responding to each other. And at times they would briefly lock into a groove, before stepping back, with Hancock, at first on a Steinway grand piano, often grounding the music and Shorter playing delicate, haunting runs above.
In one quiet moment, the audience was fooled into standing and clapping, believing the song had ended. Hancock and Shorter continued undaunted. Hancock soon switched to his Kronos synthesizer, unleashing retro, outer-space noises and otherworldly, breathy chords that rang like bells.
A drum machine began to beat out an insistent rhythm, and the reflective tone momentarily vanished. The music became urgent, at times angry, and Shorter made his sax sound like the moan of an animal. And then, the drums stopped, and the pair returned to a more meditative state.
For those with the right inclination (and sufficient concentration to block out the thudding beat from the Acura stage), Hancock and Shorter offered an experience every bit as spiritual as what was promised down the track at the Gospel Tent. But this wasn’t about exaltation. Hancock and Shorter’s music was about looking inward.
When they finally came to a rest more than half an hour after starting, Hancock almost immediately looked at his watch. They still had time left in their set. Hancock gestured to Shorter that they should play more. And they did.