The sound of sophistication

Being bold comes naturally for Marcus Roberts

by Jim Macnie

Wanting to communicate with as many listeners as possible is a standard artistic goal. But in jazz, proving your eloquence on a broad level can be precarious. Wooing a mass audience often entails downgrading one's musical sophistication. Pianist/composer Marcus Roberts has found a way to further explain himself to his fans, and maintain his standards of sophistication: by widening his vocabulary. A good chunk of the pianist's past year has been spent doing live dates which feature both a raucous interpretation of George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," and some of the day's craftiest piano trio excursions.

"I've gotten very comfortable in any situation a pianist can find himself in," he says. "My thing is that I should be able to play `Rhapsody in Blue' one night, trio music the next night, and solo stuff or septet music after that. I've been very strategic in covering everything I can. Now I can move any way I want."

The tie that binds each approach is double-knotted. Certitude and audacity are the hallmarks of Roberts' current esthetic. You can hear it in the music on Time and Circumstance (Columbia), his latest jazz disc, and Portraits in Blue (Sony Classical), an album that not only offers the vibrant "Rhapsody in Blue," but an adventurous rendition of James P. Johnson's extended composition "Yamekraw." Roberts has reached a point where being bold comes naturally. Ever since he attained national prominence years ago, as part of Wynton Marsalis' ensemble, the pianist has continually upgraded his resourcefulness. Initially dubbed a neoconservative by some pundits, his current tack allows ample room for often beguiling and sometimes challenging musical events. Time and Circumstance, one of the best jazz albums of '96, contains many passages that are as graceful as they are intricate. This kind of genial sophistication hasn't been lost on listeners. The sales of the pianist's records are some of the more enviable in jazz.

Roberts finds a synergy in working with large and small ensembles, as well as navigating various degrees of scored and open material. Comprised of original pieces, Time and Circumstance has the feeling of a suite. Its flow is abetted by a writing style that establishes emotional or elemental linkage between the tunes while still providing copious room for impromptu moves. One of the more thoughtful jazz musicians at work today, the pianist has deliberated about how his interpretation of Gershwin has influenced his own writing.

"Portraits in Blue was an important record in the scheme of things for me," he offers. "It opened up a lot of creative territory. Its long-form pieces and big group gets me thinking conceptually. When I get back to hardcore swing, like the stuff on Time and Circumstance, it really helps a lot. Gershwin organized his ideas around influences from Europe. But we know that he also went to a lot of Harlem rent parties and saw people dancing. My standpoint is that `Rhapsody in Blue' is more of a jazz piece, and I'm sure he never played exactly what the hell he wrote. That's part of why it's so open-ended."

The same thing can be said for Roberts' trio approach. The shows I've seen his ensemble perform have been impressive for their flexibility. Pressure is applied to certain melodies, certain cadences, and the dynamic strata erupts at many points. Ostensibly about a romantic relationship, a large portion of Time and Circumstance's pieces are given over to roiling group interplay that accounts for a variety of emotions. Reflection turns to worry; nonchalance is overtaken by fear. There's joy, pride, and sauciness -- a wholly American kineticism is at work throughout.

"I try to make an artistic proposition that the pieces can take shape any number of ways," he explains. "Freedom is always there. The formal aspects of the tune don't limit one's ability to be imaginative. That dawned on me while listening to tapes of the playing I did in Wynton's band. It was sort of natural how [bassist] Reginald Veal and [drummer] Herlin Riley and I would play together back then. We had a very free approach."

When prepping for Time and Circumstance, and its predecessor, Gershwin For Lovers, Roberts went back and listened to some of jazz's most durable trios, including those of Nat Cole, Ahmad Jamal, and Oscar Peterson. Looking for particulars that "made conceptual sense," he studied dynamics, scrutinized nuances, and began his own writing process, trying to dodge cliches. With equal parts self-deprecation and logic, he says that the resultant singularity is likely due to a simple ingredient: naiveté. The fact that he didn't do a whole lot of trio playing previously might generate a distinctiveness -- avoidance of convention by default. However it was instituted, pieces like "A Foggy Day" and "It Ain't Necessarily So" have sections where what momentarily seems abstract becomes crystalline in flash. Arranging is a creative endeavor Roberts has become adept at, and addicted to.

"It's harder to do it on a standard," he laughs. "It's actually easier to arrange original music. You start from scratch with what you have in mind. But take `Body and Soul,' or some other piece like that, and it's a bit more challenging to rework. Standards are designed to stay in touch with the level of achievement previously established. Original music is designed so you can create your own environment, so you can find out how you want to respond to that standard. Eventually, when you get to a certain level, it all starts to merge.

"Take Monk. It got to a point where it didn't matter what he was playing, his own tune or not. If you didn't know who wrote it, you would always think, `Well, Monk must have wrote that.' Man, his stuff had such a profound stamp on it."

With piano trios, the predominant stylistic thrust of the era is finding ways for the instruments to reconfigure their duties. Roberts believes that many of the most thrilling piano trios were less about piano and more about the power of the music itself as shaped by the arrangements. Establishing a parity among the players is crucial to "opening up the thematic and rhythmic possibilities," he says.

At some points during Time and Circumstance, whole slabs of ground are given over to drummer Jason Marsalis. He invests it with a dramatic urgency that still manages to imply a degree of breeziness. And bassist David Grossman is proficient at launching a swinging sense of pointillism.

"Compared to a larger ensemble, the trio is a liberal environment," Roberts muses. "Giving the bass and drums some of that space to fill up is a great idea. But you have to do all it carefully, because they're also the fulcrum of the group. It is, in a certain sense, like suggesting that an offensive lineman carry the football. We have to be realistic about what actually is possible, but I believe it's an interesting premise."

Like Marsalis, Roberts is sometimes chided for doting on the past. Fascination with the exquisite works of the masters defined his modus operandi during the early '90s. One solo outing, dedicated to the music of Monk, Ellington and Jelly Roll Morton, was entitled Alone with Three Giants. Roberts assures that the learning potential inherent in the designs of such figures are immense. But another motive for putting their work in high relief is the chance for audiences to comprehend their merit.

"A lot of [this great music] hasn't been clearly codified by us as a culture -- finding out its value will also tell us how to bring people a basic understanding of jazz. Once people have that, then we can sit back and let the culture make its own decision about usage. A lot of critics misinterpret our agenda, they think what we're doing is taking the initiative to tell people that this is what they should want. That's an incorrect premise. My premise is to put it on the table and explain it, so they can choose it if they have the taste for it."

When Roberts and his working trio, featuring bassist Thaddeus Expose and drummer Herlin Riley, hit the URI Fine Arts Center stage this week, playing Gershwin tunes, various standards, and a sizable portion of the Time and Circumstance pieces, the persuasiveness will speak for itself. Those who think they know the leader's music from records should have their ears opened as well. Roberts is a perfect example of an artist whose ardent investigations beget unsuspected payoffs year after year. Where craftsmanship used to be the dominant trait of his playing, he has lately managed to transcend mere technique (of which he has a devastating amount). There's a wily thread to his interactions these days, a mix of cunning and canniness that slips around the action, raising its head, and darting off to infiltrate another zone. Using a homespun vernacular -- the blues, largely -- the pianist develops a tale that's rich in detail. His jazz can seem as obsessive as a novel like Nicholson Baker's The Mezzanine -- as fanciful, too.

"My thing as an artist is to express what's there. The logic and intellect is a given; it has to be there for me because I can't tolerate random stuff. Intellect must support feeling, though. And the feeling should have a folk like undercurrent. If you have a basic folk sound in your playing, it unites you with a whole body of work, and you can use that as a basis for whatever modern dialogue you want." The chitchat that Roberts has been having with his partners and his material over the past few years is one of the most thoroughly entertaining discussions in jazz.

Marcus Roberts will perform on Friday, March 21 at 8 p.m. at the Fine Arts Center Recital Hall at the University of Rhode Island in Kingston. Tickets are $25. Call 874-2343.