Press reviews

Bassist Kyle Eastwood usually tells interviewers that his father, Clint, introduced him to jazz as well as to many of its legendary musicians. No reason to doubt his sincerity, or that meeting Miles Davis and Sarah Vaughan gave Eastwood unique insights that formal schooling alone can’t provide. But his concert, more than his background or recent debut recording, answered questions about his talent. On his disc, "From There to Here," Eastwood is often buried underneath a slew of band horns, strings and vocalists. None of the compositions were his own. Most telling is a track where singer Diana King calls out to the saxophonist, but never mentions the nominal leader or his instrument. At the Jazz Showcase on Tuesday night, as Eastwood fronted a strong quintet before an attentive audience, he gave himself no place to hide. While Eastwood’s group remained within the style of conventional hard bop, their enthusiasm and collaborative spirit were engaging. At first, Eastwood appeared to be keeping time well, but did not show any special reasons why he should be the focal point for the band. Gradually, his own aptitude became clear and he revealed that he does have substantial promise as a leader. Throughout the set, even when Eastwood performed behind forceful, and eager, colleagues, it was clear that they were drawing their energy from him. Eastwood’s declaration of his writing skills, "The Muse," provided saxophonist Eric Alexander and trumpeter Jim Rotondi an opportunity to demonstrate their fine melodic sense. The piece also includes some surprising tempo shifts that the band adeptly navigated. Throughout the tune, and on Alexander’s appropriately titled "Straight Up," Eastwood judiciously chose his notes as a spacious contrast to pianist Jon Regen’s gregarious chords. Eastwood and Regen also sounded inspired on an interpretation of rock troubadour Tom Waits’ "I Beg Your Pardon." Though their approach removed the author’s signature edginess, their lyricism was endearing enough to compensate for the gloss. Eastwood’s pointillist solo began quietly, but then became supple enough to justify the attention that he has received. At times, he even began to show a funky side that did not emerge on the disc, but he lets the vibe pass before building on the foundation. Eastwood also deserves credit for recruiting such talented coleagues. On "Enter Evening," Alexander shows that even though he’s been away from Chicago for years, he has not lost his sense of the blues. The saxophonist and Rotondi also match the contrast between Eastwood and Regen, as the trumpeter’s few spacious legato notes responded to Alexander’s high-velocity bursts. Another former Chicagoan, drummer Yoron Israel, also sounds emphatic. How he can create such a commanding sound with just his right hand traversing over the kit and his left foot on the cymbal pedal is a marvel. Now that Eastwood has proven that he’s his own musician, nothing should stop him from trying to step out further.   Aaron Cohen

The primary impression made by Kyle Eastwood’s Boston debut was how much more assertive the bassist’s music sounds in person. The majority of his first set was drawn from his album "From There to Here," which is hardly polite yet nowhere near as energized as the music heard at Scullers. Was this one of those live Memorex deals? Or an East Coast/West Coast thing? Eastwood recorded with what was his then-regular California band. Now he lives in New York and fronts a quintet including the urgent tenor sax of Eric Alexander and Yoron Israel’s active drumming, and the resulting music sacrifices some subtlety for raw power. This is not necessarily a bad bargain, since for the most part Eastwood’s new group has the muscle to pull the added weight. The leader got a big bass sound, meshed well with Israel, and handled the requisite solo turns with efficiency. Israel was busy with a purpose, most notably on the Latin-to-swing burner "Enter Evening," where his forceful accompaniment boiled over in a drum solo of apt excess. Only pianist John Regan seemed at disadvantage, until a better sound mix brought his fleet ideas and mobile textures forward. Trumpeter Darren Barrett, a last-minute sub, gave an excellent accounting of his musicianship on the unfamiliar material. Where Freddie Hubbard licks might have gotten him through the Messengers-flavored "Watch, Watch," Barrett sustained a lean yet forceful melodic line, and he showed great upper-register composure on Eastwood’s blues "The Muse." Barrett overcame uncertainty on the Tom Waits ballad "I Beg Your Pardon" as he progressed and delivered a persuasive lyrical chorus. The atmosphere seemed tailored to the concept of saxophonist Alexander, who takes a more overtly hard bop approach than many young tenors while still indicating his understanding of John Coltrane’s innovations. Alexander’s sound has always been big and seems to have grown recently and the aggression in his playing is quite attractive as he contrasts long, plunging lines with more insistent declarations. On pieces with contrasting sections, he is particularly good at using the shifting rhythmic and harmonic terrain for dramatic purposes. Every now and then, though, Alexander’s fondness for George Coleman becomes a bit too evident. Blues structures brought the influence to the fore, and stretches of "The Muse" and "Straight Up" were verbatim borrowings from the Coleman lexikon of thickly packed scales and circular breathing. Alexander is emulating an especially challenging model, and one only hopes his success does not impede the development of a more personal voice.   Bob Blumenthal