A joy-filled close to the Jazz Festival

With the sun high in the sky and the music in full swing, Day 9 marked the last—and the busiest—day at the Rochester International Jazz Festival. Recovering from the previous day’s fatigue and back for the weekend, the crowds were bigger than ever for festival regulars and newcomers alike. While it was lovely to see so many people downtown in the name of great music, it was not as lovely to wait in the lines.

After a failed attempt to catch Doreen’s 7 p.m. show, I swapped my initial plans and opened the evening with Joslyn and the Sweet Compression at Montage Music Hall. 

Dripping in fluorescent lights and too cool to be inside with matching sunglasses, Joslyn’s four accompanists (“The Sweet Compression” if you will) opened the evening with a small instrumental set: crunchy drums, swinging bass, rich guitar, and absolutely soaring saxophone. Their groove dipped into funk tones with modern pop rhythm, trading off solos and shared melody among the quartet.

The group’s playfulness and anticipation built to a full peak with the entrance of Joslyn herself, beaming as she came to the stage in a rainbow dress and stylish updo. 

“I’m no imitation, I’m the real deal!” Josyln belted to the crowd, twirling out a sunset-shaded fan that accompanied her all evening. 

Over the tones of beachy instrumentals and wobbly bass, Joslyn brought the crowd on an emotional odyssey. Her voice, smooth and soulful with theatrical flair, became the storyteller of her loves, woes, and affirmations throughout the evening. Each piece echoed with sentimentality and joy, no matter its contents, and uplifted the crowd through its energetic swing. 

Early in the evening, her energy was well-needed—an excellent start to the night of neo-soul and bluesy melodies, and certainly a singer to watch. 

“We’ll get through these changing times,” she sang silkily as she closed off the set with a cover of Frankie Beverly and Maze’s “Changing Times”—important in sentiment and reassuring in meaning in a room full of sweet music and the joy of the crowd. 

After traversing a packed pavilion at Parcel 5, I made my way over Salin’s closing-night show at The Duke. While I was a bit nervous I wouldn’t make it inside due to the long line outside the venue, all proved to be well, and I took a comfy seat close to the stage. 

Yet, when 6:30 p.m. rolled around, it wasn’t Salin’s set that greeted the audience, rather an impromptu comedy routine from a few of the volunteers. Salin and her ensemble had a few delays in their travel, leading to the quick intermission from the music: knock-knock jokes, sentimentalities, and other quips. 

“If you’ve been here all nine nights, you deserve to sleep all day tomorrow!” the volunteer laughed, tallying the crowd’s self-reported attendance at the festival throughout the week. While the sentimentality marked the unfortunate reality of closing night and the end of the festivities, the evening—and its music—had only just begun. 

Shortly after, Salin’s ensemble made their well-awaited way to the stage, draped in white and picking up their range of instruments: bass, guitar, saxophone, and trumpet. Salin herself followed suit, taking her seat behind the drumset with beehived hair and a stunningly sparkly jumpsuit. 

After opening the hour through an introductory solo along with the clicks of hearty hand percussion, Salin moved onto the bulk of her set: works from her most recent album “Rammana.”

Inspired by a trip to Northern Thailand, the album’s flow is simultaneously delicate and grounded, kept steady but not weighted down by Salin’s crisp and pristine percussion. Her rhythm fused retro and contemporary beats, melding Thai and African traditions, and effortlessly traversed instrumentally evoked emotions. 

As Salin’s work on the drums kept the group steady and paced, the ensemble found its niche in its unique texture and dichotomies of sound. Soft ambient synths layered with brassy trumpet, while rich woodwinds coupled with deep bass, filling the space with a cacophony of warm and restful tones. 

Above the noise, her smile rang out to the crowd, and her ensemble—a joy and gratitude felt deeply through her performance. 

Dipping out of Salin’s set a bit early, I rushed back to Kilbourn Hall with ample time in hopes of finally catching Doreen Ketchens New Orleans Jazz, one of my most awaited acts of the festival. 

Opening to a fully packed theater when her 9 p.m. showtime came around, Dr. Doreen Ketchens took the stage with clarinet in hand and her band—piano, electric bass, and drums—at her side. A special guest, Doreen’s grandchild, sat in his stroller at the back of the stage with drummer (and Doreen’s daughter) Dorian Ketchens-Dixon. 

“She’s doing triple duty,” Doreen joked as her daughter drummed, checked on the baby, and even fixed Doreen’s hair mid-show. 

Beyond the mother-child presence on stage, Doreen welcomed the audience as if they were family, creating a deep sense of unity and community in the broad space of Kilbourn Hall. Her set of American and New Orleans classics, oscillating between clarinet-forward and vocal melodies, welcomed the audience to sing, clap, and cheer along throughout the night. An artist grounded in spirituality herself, Ketchens’ sentiment was evident in her opening number, “I’ll Fly Away,” and she shared it diligently with the crowd. 

This richness in spirit carried into Doreen’s physical performance as she scaled up and down the clarinet with rapid speed, diligently fixated on its highs and lows: gritty bass growls and songbird-styled wails in the stratosphere. Each melody, while often familiar, was made her own, leading to unexpected yet incredibly satisfying trajectories in each tune.

Ketchens’ voice, rich and low, held a similar timbre to her clarinet as the two instruments traded off verses in each song. Before a rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World,” she recalled memories of the song that helped her find her own voice. After her lower register discouraged her from singing in church as a young girl, tunes like Armstrong’s revitalized Ketchum’s belief in her own musicianship and elevated her voice to the soothing space she sings from today. 

Throughout the hour-long spectacle, I felt deeply comforted through the ensemble’s renditions of these classic tunes, even further so while hearing the hums of response from the audience around me. A testament to Ketchens’ performance, New Orleans jazz isn’t only about the music, but also about the community formed through the sound—a community that I felt strongly throughout the night. 

Despite the clock ticking close to 10 p.m., the evening wasn’t quite over yet. When Trombone Shorty is headlining the Jazz Fest, you go see Trombone Shorty—and that’s precisely what I did. 

Filling Parcel 5 to the brim with festival regulars and newcomers alike, Shorty brought the New Orleans party to the Rochester streets through a rambunctious riot of a closer performance. 

I found my way to the show midway through Shorty’s set, joining in for an over 10-minute extravaganza of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” The iconic melody was traded among the ensemble onstage: baritone sax, trumpet, and vocals all picked up the throughline as the song marched on. Like any good party, Shorty encouraged the audience to sing and dance along, marching his own way through the audience with his trombone in hand. As a performer, he was absolutely electrifying. 

Moving from one piece to another, ranging from standard funk to rock fusion, the set brought bright punches of energy to the late evening show. While bittersweet, Shorty’s end to the Jazz Fest became one last hurrah, a celebration of the week and all it had to offer. As the maestro for the evening and jazz extraordinaire, Shorty’s energy brought the night to a fulfilling close for all in the audience.

As the end of Day 9 marked the close of the 22nd annualJazz Fest, I find myself fatigued, yet full of abounding joy. It’s been a week and a half of wonderful music, fantastic performances, and introductions to musicians beyond what I ever imagined hearing. As a celebration that continues to honor the rich tradition of jazz, both locally and internationally, the festival reminds us to keep an open spirit, open mind, and most importantly, an open ear. 

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

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

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