Also this issue:

Soul of Tomasz
Poland's top jazz musician gives Philly a whirl.
-Nate Chinen

Text Messaging
Carrie Newcomer throws the book at you.
-Mary Armstrong

Lou Barlow Is God
Isn't it time we crucified him?
-Chris Parker

Brotherly Love
Liv Taylor can still make 'em cry.
-Nicole Pensiero

Flogging Molly
-Frank Lewis

Richard Pinhas
-A.D. Amorosi

Grant Hart
-Paul Burress

Robert Randolph
-Sam Adams

October 31-November 6, 2002

the gig

Nate Chinen on Jazz

At one point or another, every jazz journalist encounters a small but surprising conundrum: What to do about Herbie Hancock? Let me clarify. Herbie was, and is, one of the premier instrumentalists in the history of jazz -- and one of the craftiest composers of the post-bop age. He set standards for modal improvisation, helped author the ’60s Blue Note era, honed a modern ensemble syntax and laid the very foundation for DJ culture. Every conceivable superlative has been lobbed in his direction. The problem is: Like any artist, he’s incapable of returning every such serve with an ace.

So Herbie's critics, this one included, toe a precarious line -- between rah-rah lionization and what-have-you-done-for-me-lately ennui. In a recent issue of JazzTimes, Christopher Porter described a "quietly difficult" interview with the artist, whose responses were muffled by the sandwich he was chewing. In the same magazine, yours truly penned a disappointed (but diplomatic!) review of a Hancock show at Carnegie Hall. In City Paper a few years ago, I hailed Herbie as an icon, then noted that his "inconsistent and rather sprawling projects" had "a bit more bark than bite." Are we expecting too much? Perhaps. But I honestly do believe that Hancock's Directions in Music is an aggregate whose parts are greater than its sum; and that his Future 2 Future project is a few years behind the curve. I believe I'm being fair. I also think I'm being a dick.

After all, even the most discriminating Herbophiles have much to be excited about. This week marks the release of The Herbie Hancock Box (Columbia/Legacy), a glimmering gem of a set spanning 23 albums and some 13 years -- and the contributions of everyone from Wynton Marsalis to Grandmixer D.ST. Much of this stuff has never been heard on CD; together on four discs, it makes a case for Hancock as a genre-blind innovator of the highest order. That impression should only be strengthened by his performance here this week, with the touring band of Gary Thomas, Scott Colley and Terri Lyne Carrington. (Fri., Nov. 1, 8 p.m., $28-$47, Zellerbach Theatre, 3680 Walnut St., 215-898-3900.) It's safe to say that this ensemble will prove a testament to Hancock's continuing quest.

His legacy, meanwhile, lives not only on disc, but also in the playing of his many, many inheritors. A few hours before Herbie's Annenberg concert, one such heir, the criminally underrated Bruce Barth, will settle into the piano chair with the Steve Wilson Quartet. (Fri., Nov. 1, 5 p.m., free, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 26th St. and the Parkway, 215-763-8100.) The following night, the Kimmel Center welcomes wunderkind Jason Moran, who counts Hancock among his many influences; his latest, Modernistic (Blue Note), betrays this affinity in the subtlest of ways. (Sat., Nov. 2, 7:30 p.m., $40, Perelman Theater, 260 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999.) Yet as good as these guys are, there's something about Herbie -- the crystalline touch, harmonic daring, buoyant sense of swing -- that they can only emulate. In other words, Mr. Hancock: Tough love or no, we're all still your biggest fans.

To report a gig -- or any other jazz-related news -- e-mail Nate Chinen at n_chinen@citypaper.net.