The Andy Bey Quartet
January 2, 1999
In a world where the term ‘jazz singer’ has been
usurped by a generation of Quiet Storm R&B crooners and cabaret
hangers on, the rare chance to be in the presence of true greatness
is rare. So the opportunity to see Andy Bey in one of his
(tragically) rare live appearances was all the more gratifying.
Though the increasing notoriety that his brilliant albums bring is
rendering the labeling of Bey as an ‘unsung’ master obsolete,
the juxtaposition of his monumental gifts and what could be called
an extremely low profile is jarring. It is rare that someone gets
their hands on one the two albums he’s recorded since returning to
the studio in 1996 , or sees him perform live without experiencing
the kind of epiphany once reserved for religious conversion. For in
the history of jazz vocals, the number of singers that equal Bey’s
combination of range, soul, power and a truly unique style can be
counted on one hand.
From his days as part of a trio with his sisters
Salome and Geraldine (who recorded as Andy & The Bey Sisters in
the early 60’s for RCA and Prestige) to his years singing with
Gary Bartz, Horace Silver and Fred Hersch among others, it may have
been his ‘uniqueness’ that endeared him to fellow musicians but
otherwise kept him on the edge of the spotlight.
In the midst of an ice storm, Bey, accompanied by John Benitez
(bass), Victor Lewis (drums) and Paul Meyers (guitar) was in the
middle of a week long stretch at New York City’s Jazz Standard in
support of his most recent Evidence CD, ‘Shades Of Bey’. Located
on 27th street, Jazz Standard is one of the newer jazz
venues in the city and one of the best. It’s upstairs occupied by
a restaurant and bar, the music is heard in a downstairs room,
equipped with excellent sight lines and acoustics.
Taking the stage for their second set of the night,
the group warmed up with an instrumental take of "Softly As In
A Morning Sunrise" (it’s operetta origins revealing once
again the reach of the standard jazz repertoire) , which
demonstrated Bey’s skill as a post-bop pianist. ‘You’d Be So
Nice To Come Home To’ (the only tune from 1996’s ‘Blues
Ballads and Bey’ (Evidence) illustrated his stunning range,
creeping in on a whisper and erupting suddenly into a rich waves of
baritone into bass. Bey uses his voice to expand a song exposing
it’s heart, almost preaching a lyric as if he were reading
passages from his diary to a lover. In versions of ‘Midnight
Blue’ (from ‘Shade’s of Bey’) and Jobim’s ‘Dindi he
mixed an obvious tenderness with a tremendous power.
On the other side of the coin, he departed from his
confessional style to swing like mad, as he did on ‘Pick Yourself
Up’ and the tour de force version of ‘Straight No Chaser’, in
which the audience sat rapt while his voice, accompanied only by
bass and drums (Benitez and Lewis both worthy of praise) , built
Thelonious Monk’s abstract blues into a tidal wave of gospel
shouts and scat.
Following a short break the group returned to the
stage for their last set, opening again with an instrumental
(‘There Is No Greater Love’) and segueing into one of the finest
interpretations of Kurt Weill’s ‘Speak Low’ that this writer
has ever heard. The tempo picked up again with a bright take on Cole
Porter’s ‘Love For Sale’ and later with a fiery version of the
Depression classic ‘Brother Can You Spare A Dime’.
The highlight of the second set saw the singer
joined onstage by guitarist Paul Meyer for his interpretation of
Nick Drake’s ‘River Man’. If ever a song sounded as if it had
been written with a particular singer in mind, this was it. Bey
managed to preserve all of the melancholy beauty of Drake’s 1970
original yet give it his own stamp in a positively transcendent
performance. This, and his elegant take on Dori Caymmi’s ‘Like A
Lover’ brought the evening to a close.
The aficionado’s greatest fear has always been
that a beautiful thing, known only to the faithful can only suffer
by wider public exposure. In a world besieged by mediocre singers
wrapping themselves in the mantle of jazz, it would truly be a crime
if the greatness of Andy Bey were not heard.
Larry Grogan
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