 
 "After
three days of noodling at the piano with
the major and minor thirds of 'You And The
Night And The Music,' to make it a little
off-base, my wife says, 'Can't you figure
out how that tune goes yet?'"
That was not how the conversation with pianist
Mike Holober began, but that's how it flowed:
like the give-and-take of a studio session;
or the improvisational challenge of a gig
in the Apple, 25 miles south of his Nyack
home. Holober is a professor of music at
Community College of New York and has taught
at New York University. He's been there,
done it all, even has the T-shirts to prove
it.
Now, finally, he has emerged front and
center with his first album as leader: Canyon (Sons
of Sound). Early in 2004, his first big-band
effort as leader of the 17-piece Gotham
Jazz Orchestra, Thought
Trains will appear
on the same label.
"My music is quite modern, but accessible,"
Holober says. Canyon's title track
reveals one of his arranging trademarks:
the use of ostinato figures to allow his
players maximum freedom to explore. And with
sidemen the caliber of saxophonist Time Ries,
guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, bassist Scott
Colley and drummer Brian Blade, well, the
joys of jazz are apparent.
Equally apparent is Holober's lack of ego.
He never dominates the solo spotlight, nor
does he overcomp: "When I lay out, I consider
that orchestration," he says. Given Holober's
prodigious technique, some would consider
that a loss. The "noodling" that led to "You
and the Night" eventually morphed from a
vamp into a brilliant, complex head that
swings so fiercely that you wish it wouldn't
end. "Roc and a Soft Place" is a lovely tribute
to one of Holober's favorite former colleagues,
soxophonist Joe Roccisano. Ries and Holober
team up on another sensitive didication,
"In So Many Words," fro the late baritonist,
Nick Brignola, with whom Holober worked for
many years.
A surprising highlight is "Stardust" whose
tempo Holober sardonically places "somewhere
between Latin and country-western." The pianist
states the verse in simple octaves over a
loping vamp. Ries' tenor continues the straight
approach of the chorus until he crosses the
bridge, where he takes a shocking detour
from D-flat to C, then five measures later
swerves back to the subdominant lane of the
original key. Few are aware of the return,
but as Holober says, "When they hear it they
look at me and smile knowingly."
And his wife is probably thinking, "At least
he figured out how the tune goes!"
~ Harvey Siders
© 2004
JazzTimes
photograph
by Ebet Roberts
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