Pushing the boundaries of sound

Like in many things, at the Rochester International Jazz Festival, variety is the spice of life.

While I wasn’t able to stay for long, the Wegmans Stage at Parcel 5 was up and in full swing on Day 6, blossoming with the smooth vocals of Latin group Sonidos Unidos. Their performance marked the first night of four for one of the festival’s free outdoor stages set with food trucks and ample space for lawn chairs and picnic blankets. 

The stage will host free headliners including funk group Lettuce and nine-time returnee Trombone Shorty—it’s something you won’t want to miss. 

Although it was tempting to stay longer and continue listening to the Sonidos Unidos set, my cut through Parcel 5 had a purpose—Shebad, the five-piece Guelph-based, multi-instrumentalist funk, psychedelic genre-melding group that was sure to knock your socks off and soothe your soul. The group, seemingly one of the youngest at the festival, comes to Rochester at the opening leg of their first international tour. 

Draped in the warmth of pink fluorescents and smooth synth ambience, even the group’s physical presentation foreworded the easy-going energy of the evening: a clean white bass hanging with strands of crochet flowers, the drumset’s cymbal dotted like Swiss cheese, and a soft “Shebad” piano-patterned quilt hung over the side of the keyboard. 

Vocalist Claire Voy entered the stage with a cocktail in hand and a grin on her face, quickly sinking into the quintet’s discography and set for the evening. The group’s joy was felt through the music as they lifted their arms to groove with each harmony and pulsed with the fluid beat of each song. 

Differing from the other acts I’d seen this week, Shebad’s improvisation wasn’t exactly sonic. Each tune was precise, maximalist, and grooving compositions with parts that integrated like puzzle pieces, often leaving no room to stray off this written path. In seconds flat, slow jazz ballads transitioned to polyrhythmic funk jam-outs and back again, fluid in their energy yet well-equipped for what came next. The ensemble’s improv was derived from its synergetic groove: their movement, their interactions, and the night’s vitality.

In many ways, Shebad played as a theater troupe as much as it played as a band. The group moved as an ensemble, no member holding higher weight than another, rather simply easing into different parts of the machine. Despite their five-person size, the group had the musical chops to rival an orchestra: no single member stuck to one gig for the length of the show, and everyone was always in motion. After three songs, the bassist and pianist switched instruments. Three songs later, they were back at their home bases once again. One of them later picked up a saxophone for a series of harmonies amid the twisting grooves, the other sported a flute for a quick solo after a keyboard riff.

In her downtime, Voy, the primary vocalist, switched her beat to shakers and percussive accents, later picking up a guitar to strum along further in the set. Bridget Walsh, the group’s combo vocalist/violinist/trumpet player, moved with ease between her three instruments of choice, even bringing the crowd to a cheer of stomps and claps during a faster-than-lightning violin solo and original composition. While the drummer was the most consistent in his instrumental repertoire throughout the evening, even he was handed a mic for a self-accompanied rap verse, accompanied by claps and cheers from his bandmates. 

Shebad turned the Duke’s tiny stage into an amphitheater as members moved through light choreography and tune-relevant tableaus. 

The group’s musical work, primarily drawn from their recent album “Music is the Answer,” proved to be deeply personal and strikingly resonant. Rich, psychedelic chords oozed from the keys as vocals rang out overhead, a soapy bass grooved underneath a thick melody and the soft soul of woodwinds. Time switched beats and back again as songs seemingly switched rhythm and time signature from measure to measure. 

“Whenever we are away, we think about how home is in the music we create,” Voy spoke about their discography and the thick, stringed link back to their town of Guelph and their unending love for family and peers. 

The group served as certified surgeons of the soul. The final set of tracks, beginning with the trance-like build of “Open Yourself,” ushered the repeating refrain of the same name over a hypnotic bassline. I had no choice but to do so, finding myself mesmerized by each movement and compelled by the sound.

The closing piece, the rhythmic romp of “Black Walnut,” urged the audience into the divinity of a dance party, to which the crowd agreed with swinging arms, hips, and smiling eyes. I found myself freed by the music and open to the shared space, comfortable as I moved to the beat and felt the groove in my chest.

I wasn’t alone in this euphoric sentiment. A standing ovation met the band at the end of the set, and a swarm of compliments as folks shuffled out the doors. Above all, it was fulfilling to see 21st century contemporary jazz received with such love, and to see such love returned to the audience with the joy fostered throughout the evening.

My unintentional Canadian fixation continued for the evening with Jane Bunnett’s “Red Dragonfly,” the long-awaited revival of the soprano saxophonist’s 2004 project. Joined by the original artists from the project, including a pianist, bassist, drummer, and the Penderecki String Quartet, Bunnett’s set flowed through a selection of pieces from the album and tunes composed by the group since.

Although Bunnett herself is Canadian, the work of “Red Dragonfly” follows the global tradition of music, rich with jazz arrangements of folk songs from around the world. In such, the ensemble chameleon-ed as they performed, carefully finding each instrument’s functionality in rhythm and harmony as each tune’s style adapted. 

The ensemble opened the night with the title track of the piece, “Red Dragonfly (Aka Tombo),” which pulls from Japanese folklore and a children’s song. As the sun set through the gilded windows at the Temple Theater, the sounds of nightfall spun into melody and soothing lullaby. Bunnett sang out on the saxophone as if the pair were close friends—the instrument serving as an extension of her own voice and reflection of the brightness in her craft. Above the warm softness of the strings and elegant piano, its brassiness rang out like birdsong as Bunnett roved up and down its far-reaching range. 

After a brief introduction to the band and expressing gratitude to the crowd, the group’s softness gave way to energy as it transitioned into its Latin repertoire, particularly Cuban jazz. A five-time performer at the Jazz Fest, Bunnett’s previous work has featured both the Spirits of Havana and Maqueque, an all-woman Cuban quintet. Continuing her admiration for the art form with a new ensemble at Bunnett’s side, renditions of clave and timba swirled with the tang of strings and hearty drums. 

Bridging from an environmental axis, one piece even likened the sounds of their instrumental brigade to that of the Amazon rainforest, turning piano to dashing footsteps under a canopy of tinny percussive light and the breeze of Bunnett’s saxophone. 

Even in the group’s original compositions, many by pianist David Virelles, inspiration became drawn from the most subtle of things. A racing swing samba about a member’s Russian car felt reminiscent of the road’s bustling rush. At the same time, another tune, gathering a few laughs from the audience, was taken after an improvisation on top of Bunnett’s Samsung kitchen alarm. “Don’t burn it!” she whispered softly into the microphone before returning to her instrument for a spiral of hot riffs up and down the scale.

While the span of discography was incredibly wide in origin and style, each tune felt deeply personal and reflective of the ensemble as a whole. For Bunnett, jazz’s power was held in its fluidity, a crucial sentiment in a time so rooted in complacency with change. 

For the Beacon’s Jazz Fest coverage, click here.

Alex Holly is a member of the Oasis Project’s second cohort. 

The Beacon welcomes comments and letters from readers who adhere to our comment policy including use of their full, real name. See “Leave a Reply” below to discuss on this post. Comments of a general nature may be submitted to the Letters page by emailing [email protected].