Wynton Marsalis: Purcell, Handel, Torelli, More: Trumpet Concertos : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

As a trumpet player, Wynton Marsalis is a true phenomenon. Not only has the twenty-two-year-old set the jazz world on fire in little over a year, but his reputation as a classical musician has already led trumpeter Maurice Andre to proclaim him "potentially the greatest trumpeter of all time." For all that, however, both his second solo jazz album and his first classical release are somewhat disappointing because despite their obvious merits, neither quite delivers as much as Marsalis' reputation has left us expecting.

Although Think of One is the second album to be released under Marsalis' name, it is the first to feature his working band (Wynton Marsalis used an all-star rhythm section, featuring Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Tony Williams, on half the numbers). The difference is significant, because it allows Marsalis to sketch out his own identity instead of locking him in to the post-Miles Davis stylizations of his work with Hancock and V.S.O.P. II. As a soloist, Marsalis is amazingly eclectic; although his improvisations make ample use of Davis' harmonic deconstruction, Marsalis also draws upon his instrument's textural possibilities, spiking his phrases with half-valved moans and sputtering squawks in a tradition that extends from Louis Armstrong to Lester Bowie. Between his resourcefulness and the careful architecture of his solo excursions, Marsalis is constantly engaging. But his solos rarely seem to go anywhere. "Knozz-Moe-King" starts the album off with a roar, but Marsalis flashes by before it's possible to notice what he's done. Similarly, "What Is Happening Here (Now)?" and "The Bell Ringer" are full of nifty noises and some good ideas, but none of them ever seems to lead anywhere. It isn't that Marsalis' playing is too facile; rather, he has yet to develop the knack of turning a series of notes into a logical progression the way his brother, saxophonist Branford Marsalis, has. At the moment, Wynton still gives in too easily to flash.

As a classical trumpet player, however, that's not as great a fault, and perhaps that's why Trumpet Concertos is the more satisfying of these two releases. There's no improvisation here, just trumpet playing of the highest caliber. These selections are about as stolid as the classical trumpet repertoire gets, but Marsalis cuts a large figure with them, leaping into the upper register with aplomb and tossing off devilish embellishments without a quiver. He far outdistances the technical achievements of Gerard Schwarz while matching the silky tone of Andre Bernard, and if he hasn't quite developed the exquisite shading Maurice Andre is justly famous for, that is likely just a matter of time.

Which is undoubtedly the key to Marsalis' future. If, at twenty-two, he is only phenomenally good, why grouse about greatness? If he continues to grow at his present rate, what is to come will more than make up for his few failings now.