Jazz in Chicago lends itself to total immersion. Unfortunately, when your music pool is that deep, it’s hard to know the true scope of your live listening options. How many truly wonderful musicians are out there? Who are they and where are they playing? It’s like falling through Alice’s mirror when you unexpectedly find yourself in the same room with some of the best of them. Like at the Jazz City event at the Garfield Park Conservatory one recent frosty March night.
A winding walk through the great Palm Room led to a long well-lit glass extension where a posthumous musical birthday party was in progress for one of Chicago’s most treasured musicians, Von Freeman. With one exception, the performance stage was an all-female affair that billed itself as –
The Ladies! Women of Chicago Jazz
Celebrating Von Freeman’s 95th
And they came to swing.
First, Chicago Vox, an eight-voice jazz vocal ensemble affiliated with Columbia College did some harmonious crooning Manhattan Transfer style with tunes like All or Nothing at All and Fool on the Hill. Very sweet and super mellow and leaving little hint at the explosion of sonic wonder that was about to follow.
With Joan Hickey on piano, Caroline Davis on sax and a spirited Marlene Rosenberg on bass, the three dubbed themselves the Vontets for the evening and included vocalists Margaret Murphy-Webb and Maggie Brown. Drummer Makaya McCraven, as the lone male, rounded out this crackling hot pop up of a band.
Why an all lady tribute? The answer to that question became clear almost immediately. Whether they had worked with him, been profoundly influenced by him or were mentored by him, each of these delightfully talented women knew him well and could attest to his fondness for them and their gender. Maybe it was that particular strain of respect that propelled this steamy jazz soaked love fest.
They rocked the room as only as only top flight jazz musicians can. Every time Caroline Jones slid into one of her solo ventures, the crowd just sat rapt with their heads bobbing to the rhythm. This audience was no gathering of jazz neophytes amassed under towering greenhouse ferns. They knew they were listening to marvelous music and showed it.
In every set, “Vonski” had to do a ballad and would cue the band by saying, it’s time to do something for “all my dahlins’”. The Vontets delivered on the soft stuff too. Their rendition of Cry a Little was as tender as a baby’s tears and was sweetened by intuitively deft playing. By the time Margaret Murphy-Webb took the stage, the quartet was primed for taking the evening to the next level. Murphy-Webb was more than willing and able to get them there.
With a style that’s both polished and earthy, her Fly Me to the Moon was a finger poppin’ good natured command that insinuated a tantalizing treat in the bargain.
Full of anecdotes about her mentor that added a rainbow of color to her performance and our appreciation of the man, she told of how much Freeman loved Billy Holiday for her ability to pour so much feeling into her lyrics. She then served up her own version of God Bless the Child that spoke knowingly of the love many of the kids on our meanest streets don’t get.
Charged with wrapping the show up with a big bright red bow, Maggie Brown did just that with her usual aplomb. Her rendering of I Need Jazz went straight to the heart of any true jazz aficionado and perfectly captured why so many people find this music form so fulfilling.
Just as impressive was the corps of workers who put this show together. All young and all women, the small army of what looked like college students working with the Jazz Institute of Chicago did everything needed to make the evening’s entertainment a reality. If jazz had angels, they’d be these lovely young women.