by Jason Koransky
Wynton Marsalis took two chances with "Blood on the Fields," the musical journey which he and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra performed Friday, February 14 at Orchestra Hall. He gambled that an audience would have the patience to sit through a three-and-a-half hour oratorio, the lesser risk of the pair. More prominent a risk for Marsalis was placing his nearly 20 year musical career in full view of an audience, opening himself up for any number of criticisms and the potential to lose his stature as the dominant young voice in jazz. But sometimes an artist has to designate mileposts in their career, make statements bolder, stronger than their previous works, taking their music to a new plateau and shaking up the fabric of their genre. With "Blood on the Fields," Marsalis has done just that--introducing a new fusion of jazz, gospel, blues and traditional folk to the American musical landscape, challenging the jazz community to create music worthy of assuming the label of true American art.
The trumpeter/composer from New Orleans has always been outspoken about the necessity to never lose grasp of mainstream jazz, at times even criticizing jazz trumpet legend Miles Davis for straying too far from the art he helped originate into the ethos of fusion. With "Blood on the Fields," Marsalis has not detoured as far as Davis did with his ethereal albums, but in essence he has done the same this as Davis did with such albums as "Bitches Brew" and "On the Corner." Marsalis has made a proud statement that he is secure in his musical ability and ingenuity, and has once again proved that the magic of jazz rests in its true lack or parameters, that the art as a changeling can assume any number of shapes. Only the brilliant challenge the institutions, making statements such as this. As a retrospective of the African-American slavery experience in America, on both literal and metaphorical levels, Marsalis shocks, torments, soothes, entices and preaches to the audience, all while providing an at times challenging, at other times grooving, musical experience.
Marsalis guides the audience through 21 movements, telling the love story of Jesse and Leona, two African-American slaves in the Americas who suffer through the horrors of oppression, beatings, loss of soul, pangs of yearning and a distant whisper of freedom in the North. Miles Griffith performes the role of Jesse, bellowing out his pain, confusion and search for identity both as a man and even more broadly as a human being. He struggles with a litergy of inhuman tortures--and Griffith performes all of this brilliantly. The elegant and beautiful Cassandra Wilson, with her deep and soulful voice, plays her role as confused, yet strong slave woman, masterfully. Marsalis made a point to write lyrics both literal and poignant, striking the audience between the eyes with vivid imagery of a state of being virtually unknown to any American today. And stealing the show with these lyrics is Jon Hendricks, who with grace and passion performs the roles of Juba and the Slave Buyer with a virtuosity the likes of Joe Williams or even the late Cab Calloway. In one of the most memorable movements of the oratorio, "Soul for Sale," Hendricks, donning a top hat and snazzy suit, sings lyrics such as "Checking their teeth and hairlines, pinching a buck whose skin shines, looking for brown concubines. Soul for sale," while all the while the Orchestra plays a big band swing tune reminiscent of standards such as "Minnie the Moocher," evoking images of the Cotton Club. Hendricks could have been Calloway up there, only singing about an inhuman trade rather than some dangerous woman. Such a juxtaposition of tune and lyric made for a striking expression, a mocking which tore open the horror of the institution on which much of America was built.
Musically, "Blood on the Fields" combines slow, tricky ballads with some standard big band swing and New Orleans traditional jazz. Marsalis shows a broad collection of composition, from litany to soul, evoking images of the golden age of jazz when Duke Ellington and Count Basie toured their bands across the country, performing before scores of elegant and hip fans. But at the same time, a new music emerges, one with so much personal meaning and expression, a cacophony of old and new, that Marsalis must be commended for his efforts. The Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra played the often daunting composition to near perfection, with stellar rhythmic execution, a heavy emphasis on trumpet (Marsalis’ bias became quite clear), and solid soloing.
And of course, a few licks of bop from Marsalis’ trumpet interspersed throughout was almost worth the price of admission alone!
Centerstage Will Feed You
