George Benson at the Rochester International Jazz Festival, June 2003. Photo by Bill Ribas © 2003 NYRock.com.

Writing about jazz for a rock site? Heresy? Well, perhaps you might take it that way, but an essential ingredient of musical appreciation and education comes from a varied diet. Sure, I can bang my head with the best of them, drink Pabst Blue Ribbon like it was Diet Coke, or hold a burning Bic lighter high in the air in a darkened stadium. But I can just as well sit spellbound as jazz cats, some old enough to be grandparents, whip out extended solos, comp chords like there's no tomorrow, and never miss a beat or hit a clam. And that's something you have to see live to appreciate, thus my attendance at the RIJF v2. When you get to see some guys that have been playing for 50 or 60 years, you feel as if you are in the presence of greatness, and the experience can be otherworldly.

Case in point: Dave Brubeck. At 82 years, an age which is perhaps best enjoyed from the front porch, Brubeck played with a spriteness that belied his age, as notes flew out of his keyboard from a touch that went from delicate to forceful. Likewise, his sax man, Bobby Militello, blew some solos that were expertly crafted and delivered. Brubeck mentioned that he played one tune a long time ago at Rochester's Eastman School of Music, and playing it again, while surely a sentimental moment for him, also established a link between the music school, the art of jazz, and the passage of time.

Other performers would remark on the Rochester connection as well. George Benson, in an aside to the audience, spoke of playing the Pythod House many moons ago, and how a young drummer approached him. Years later, he saw the drummer in a studio, and the man asked if he remembered him, and Benson said yes. That drummer was Steve Gadd. Tony Bennett mentioned how he was signed to Columbia Records by three Eastman school grads. On a somewhat sentimental note, Bennett also commented on the venue, saying "They don't build them like this anymore," and had the soundman turn off all the mics. He then sang "Fly Me to the Moon," accompanied by his guitar player (who was plugged in, for the record, but not miked). Though I was relatively close, reports from some friends in the back said he came through crystal clear, and it was beautiful.

The recurring theme – that is, the impact of the Eastman School on the jazz community – was hammered home by Maria Schneider, who studied arrangement at the school with Bill Dobbins and Rayburn Wright. Her complex and lovely pieces showed a depth of her knowledge and her love of music, in general. A piece about hang-gliding in Brazil was preceded by an explanation of the experience. I could sense the feeling after takeoff and lifting into the clouds, as the music shifted and swayed.

There was music in the more intimate clubs as well. One of the standouts was guitarist Mark Whitfield, backed by a drummer and bassist, he blistered his way through several numbers on guitar.

Drummer Matt Wilson performed selections from his Carl Sandburg Project, putting the poetry of the latter to music by the former. It was eccentric, full of laughs and good-spirited fun, as Wilson switched between playing drums and reading poems while two saxophonists, bassist, and guitarist held court.

Tony Bennett at the Rochester International Jazz Festival, June 2003. Photo by Bill Ribas © 2003 NYRock.com.

For the gypsy jazz fans, Stephane Wrembel played a tribute to Django Reinhardt, knocking off tunes and running lines on his guitar effortlessly. The flurry of fingers and notes made one appreciate not only the spontaneity, but the playfulness of his attack.

And, like last year, the festival producers brought Medeski, Martin, and Wood for an outdoor show. Starting the gig was Rochester's own Prime Time Funk, a powerful outfit that played to a sparse crowd, which was a shame because these guys cook. Anders Osborne was next, an outfit from New Orleans (well, Anders is from Sweden, but now resides in the Big Easy). He played a swampy, highly charged set. At times, his guitar work was awash in effects and feedback, and a few Hendrix-like tones emanated, though he was at his best on his slide work. MM&W featured DJ Logic this year, and the result produced a bit more sonic mayhem than last year's outing.

While the festival staff reported a ten-thousand-head increase in attendance for this year's event, eking out a slight profit and the hopes for a continued and burgeoning success, there were a few detractions. The "Club Pass," which is a pay-one-price deal allowing you entry into all the club shows is still a good deal, as long as the club isn't Single Room Occupancy. Sure, the pass gets you into a bunch of shows, but you might have to get there early if the performer is popular (like Norah Jones last year), and some venues aren't cut out for too many people. For some unknown reason, the second Friday of the festival coincided with a local street festival, the kind where bands play on stages in the street, the beer flows, and, well, you get the picture. As such, on the way back from MM&W to see Alex Skolnick (who I heard was great and plays rock songs in a jazz mood), I was unable to find a parking space anywhere near the venue, as the parking garages were chock full. With no street spots available, I just gave up and headed to a local bar to catch a blues band.

And though last year's festival ended with a huge outdoor show, this year's closed with Irish-fiddling champ Eileen Ivers. While I can't comment on this show (my band had a gig, and I needed the gas money), the festival lineup seemed more to fizzle at the end than go out with a bang (no disrespect to Ms. Ivers).

On the whole though, it was interesting to watch the event shake a city from its slumber (Rochester was once described by David Byrne as a place where trends come to die), a city that has a tremendous musical heritage, one that its populous often forgets.