You already know that Jazz90.1 provides MORE coverage of The CGI Rochester International Jazz Festival than any other media outlet. Now – our coverage has gotten even better!
Jazz90.1 is pleased to announce that writer and photographer and former CITY News reporter Frank De Blase will join our team. Each day, he’ll provide his recap of the festival shows that he checked out, and also his list of “must see” shows in advance of the fest kicking off. Find his daily reviews posted to our website and social media each morning.
Frank joins Rob Linton, Derrick Lucas, photojournalist Dan Gross and photographer Aaron Winters covering the fest for you – for Jazz90.1.
Frank’s Daily Reviews
Day 1:
The Rochester International Jazz Festival seemed rather subdued despite its size. It was as if the snow tires were only recently off, and people were slipping and sliding about. But don’t sweat it as this town knows how to throwdown… with a quickness.
The Honeoye Big Brass Band announced my arrival with Monk’s “Well, You Needn’t“ and I was gone, gone right over to dig vocalist Gabrielle Cawassa’s show, as she released steam from the audience’s collective head.
Killed some time watching a rather intense jam band parked beneath a cloud of cigar smoke courtesy of Havanna Moe’s. The multi Grammy-award winner, Pat Metheny was boring, lemme elaborate if you wish.
I’m particularly looking forward to Big Lazy at the Little tomorrow night. Come along, won’t you?
Day 2:
NYC’s Big Lazy has lots of moving parts and lubrication via tremolo and reverb to keep it moving. They were tres cool swimming in tepid waters like Santo and Johnny in a hot tub. They were overall stunning. Mystical and enchanting.
The Eastman Theater show tonight was Keb Mo who painted the walls with the audience’s brains, but he did it with panache. The sound was stellar. Not too loud and not too sweet. He switched off between electric and acoustic. And there’s no shame digging your blues plucked through a battered old dobro.
Over on the outdoor stage, St. Paul and the Broken bones were doing just that, but it sounded more like they were breaking eardrums instead.
And you couldn’t move an inch—hence, the broken bones. The joint was packed.
But there’s more of The Big Lazy on my horizon. You gotta see them.
Day 3:
It was more Big Lazy for me, this time at the Wilder Room. It was a dessert before dinner move. The band has struggled vociferously that they don’t know exactly what style they play—enter me with some keen suggestions they are free to use.
A Switchblade bouquet
Fleeting flights of fleeting anger
Surfing on a worn out brogans
I could go on and on…
The band was joined by guest saxophonist Jacob Collins from Ithaca whose playing added a dose of normalcy. They ended the early show with “Night Train” full of reverb and chaos.
My next step was Zimbabwe’s Albino Mbie who along with his band from all over the world, who sounded more like Spyro Gyra than a band from all over the world. Maybe it was the AC. Dunno.
Out on the mainstage, Quebec super group The Durham County Poets laid it down like the Fabulous Thunderbirds rocking to the core with incredible horns and a voice that would make the devil cry.
Day 4:
Started the evening off at Montage Music Hall with Charlie Hunter. He has a peculiar approach to the guitar, but I couldn’t hear as much as I would have liked to due to the bizz buzz of the hoi poli and all their self-important conversations. Hunter was appearing to play as a guest of vocal sensation, Victoria Victoria. But these honkies ruined it for all of us, so I vacated the joint and shagged the short to the Little Theatre.
Joe Robinson from down under was there playing his guitar like a hot rod music box. He played with lightning speed and left the packed house with its jaws in its laps; Oh and he played two guitars at the same time. Wee.
2023 Rochester Hall of Fame inductee and bon vivant Fred Costello finished my coverage on Jazz Street with his B3 attack and keyboard slide with grace.
Later upon my man Ron Stackman’s recommendation, I slipped over to Abilene Bar and Lounge to see Rochester local band Judah, where guitar player Anthony Blood was dismantling his PRS with extreme prejudice.
Day 5:
Bonnie Raitt offered me a way out, a way to redeem myself, that is if I could surmount the Eastman fortress. But alas, I failed in my task as the guards with their flaming arrows, spears and oil dispense from boiling cauldrons tipped from above caught us off guard. I would not get a chance to say, “what a great show Ms. Raitt,” you were wonderful. Say, do you call it blues still.. Or is it pop? “
All these un-answered questions. With her security detail making it virtually impossible. They were a joy, I tell you. Since I found myself alone and outside, I thought I would bang out this little King Author tale for you.
Houston Person and Eric Person brightened my mood considerably with tone thick as a foghorn. It all went down at the band’s 9:00 set at Kilbourn Hall. The senior person ruled the roost. When his cover of Illinois Jacquetta” Black Velvet” and a rousing version of My Romance that hit home deep.
Day 6:
I made it early to the Temple Theater to dig Louisiana’s Marc Broussard and to follow the buzz that was following close behind. It was clear that this wasn’t his first show in Rochester, as he wrapped the audience around his finger until they all looked like sprung springs. The music gave off a rough and tumble tint to the blues rock they were playing it wild. The band got loose, singing songs about loving a dog being easier than your girlfriend.
As I rolled upon Parcel 5 Bill Tiberio had his band were in high gear, their sound bouncing somewhere above the space between the drones on patrol. Bill is the man.
Headliner Bruce Hornsby followed with The Noisemakers to a crowd of thousands. Their music had a gentleness akin to the more rural sounds of Americana. The sound was loud and full of cries of “Bruce, Bruce.”
Day 7:
Dressed like Punky Brewster, former Rochester ex -pat and slush pump Operator Nick Finzer laid out some creamy smooth confection and pop during his early set at Max of Eastman. The Trombone kept it from going off the rails.
Finzer darkened doorways here while attending ESM and he played with Po Boys Brass Band who instead of Trombones, the band brandished Thompson Machine guns in a brazen New Orleans boogie display. No. I’m just kidding…they were Remington pump guns.
For his new stuff, tight isn’t the right word. Punchy and swinging are a coupla words I’ve got for the music was more of a seductive roll down a lazy river on the way to beauty. It was rather fantastic.
I said Joe Beard! The Rochester blues legend set fire to Parcel 5 to around 10,000 lost souls on board. It was not like he and his bandmates were better than I’ve almost ever seen. Bolder, louder, more dynamic. With his voice reverberating throughout where Sibley’s once stood. It was a new era of Joe. And we witnessed it at The RIJF.
The finisher for the night was Southside Johnny and the Ashbury Jukes playing hits, “Like Runaway Renee and the Stones” Happy,
With the fog machine on on stage, SSJ pointed what with the smoke coming in and hanging above, wasn’t it a little redundant.
Day #8:
Damon Fowler bought some of his hometown Tampa, Florida sunshine and sprinkled on the heads of the faithful. This year witnessed a few more guitars on the RIJF with Fowler at the top of the list.
For the show on Parcel 5, The weapony involved was a gold top custom tele with, count ‘em, 2 P-90s, and a custom made lap steel which the guitarist elicited howls and screams, from his amps, and out of the audience’s gaping maws. He played straight ahead blues, mostly original, which showed off his ferocious right hand. He got the crowd bumping and grinding. And wore them out.
Lynyrd Skynyrd Drummer Artimus Pyle was aces, baby. What a fantastic show from the legendary drummer. He and his Artimus Pyle band warmed up with a pre-show recording blasting through the PA showcasing the amount of heavy riffs they possess. The answer to your question: tons.
Opening with “Mr. Saturday Night Special,” the band played close to two hours. The original factotum Pyle seemed pleased and rather gregarious to those in the house. This was the closet you’ll ever getting to hear the original Skynyrd, including the actual band itself.
Day 9:
I made my way to my first stop at the Little Theatre to dig on some blues right off the bone with Jonatavious Willis. It was just the man alone, with his guitar and the delightful and impish demons that dove out from deep within including sound effects. Willis was a got-damn Foley stage. Not only that, I swear to god he made his guitar talk, too. This was an education in acoustic fingerstyle at its finest. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.
Willis played with down home moxy and the claw marks Lightening Hopkins left on his soul. Absolutely splendiferous.including when he matchedd down the aisle and out the front door while munching on his tin sandwich.
It felt like peeling off a sticky bandage when leaving the Little Home of the Blues, but I made it through with some clever maneuvers. Seems canes are good for lots of things.
And there he was on stage, Curtis Stigers with his understated luster and Frigidaire cool which confused me a bit. Is he a crooner wailing on the sax or is it the the other way around. He sang “My Funny Valentine” and that makes him all-reet, all-root, and all-right to me.
And with that I say farewell to another Jazz Fest. Some things blew me away but none really blew. A few thighs went over my head. But for the most part, I held my own. I want to thank the WGMC crew, Thanks for the opportunity, your patience, and all the bottled water I could drink.