SPAC Jazz Saturday: A First-Class First Day

Review: The Saratoga Jazz Festival Presented by GE Vernova; Saturday, June 27, 2026

The first act at Saturday’s Saratoga Jazz Festival and the last both played “Lady Marmalade” – the Brass Queens in a sassy New Orleans romp and Patti Labelle, recreating her 1974 hit.

A tribute to Miles Davis’s amped electric bands hit just before Labelle; she didn’t remember she and Miles both played here in 1985.

Tradition, echoes, talents young and older – the usual mix marked the first day of the 49th summer jazz festival (and arguably non-jazz…) get-together; with extra-nice weather that put everyone in a fine mood.

Brass Queens, from left: Stephanie Young, trombone; Jenna Murdoch, tenor; Ally Chapel, alto; Nora Nalepka, Sousaphone; Alex Harris, Stephanie King and Minerva Johnson, trumpets. Drummer Caitlin Cawley is behind the trumpets.

Brooklyn-based, New Orleans in their soul, the eight Brass Queens opened Saturday’s two-stage, 12-act festival at 11 sharp. Their eager opening-act energy pumped up the fun in the Charles R. Wood Discovery Stage. (Formerly the “Gazebo” but hereafter the “Wood,” the amphitheater is “the Main.”)

Most songs launched from circular Sousaphone riffs locked to march-beat drums, as in “Can’t Let Go,” their opener, borrowed from the New Breed Brass Band. Soon they were putting Second Line spin on the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination” AND “My Girl,” David Byrne’s “Strange Overtones” and Prince’s “When Doves Cry”– hot spirited stuff from unlikely, wonderful song choices. Raucous, rocking, gleeful in their power and pizzazz, they were formidable at full soar.

First Meeting, from left: Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Chris Potter, Larry Grenadier, Eric Harland

First Meeting, a virtuoso supergroup of Gonzalo Rubalcaba, piano; Chris Potter, saxophones; Larry Grenadier, bass; and Eric Harland, drums, revved up Chick Corea’s “500 Miles High” on the Main as the Brass Queens closed on the Wood. Breezy, punched up by Potter’s burly tenor and Rubalcaba’s pulsating piano, bracelets almost flying off his wrists, this flowed into a yearning ballad, Potter’s lyrical soprano etching a delicate melody.

Avishai Cohen

Curious about Avishai Cohen, I went back to the Wood; one of many tough choices. His bustling band Big Vicious, more like Big Sweet, Big Spacey, Big Strange, set the trumpeter amid two drummers and two guitarists. He also played a tiny keyboard, using effects to bend and stretch notes. The two guitars divided the stringed soundscape, one in conventional range, the other tuned down into bass territory. Cohen shared a mic with guitar-bassist Yonatan Albalak to whistle together in a strange/charming interlude. Their fresh, rich, exhilarating ensemble sound – by turns driving and dreamy – was my best surprise all day, except maybe when Patti LaBelle first opened her mouth. The songs (setlist below) zigged around in abrupt angular detours, or settled sweet and mellow; with some Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” as antique treat.

Big Vicious Setlist, above; full stage below, from left: Uzi Ramirez, guitar; Cohen; drummers Aviv Cohen and Ziv Ravitz, Yonatan Albalak, guitar-as-bass

I hung at the Wood through singer Tyreek McDole’s extra-long sound check, pleased to see the same cats behind him as at A Place for Jazz last fall. They now seem a few months stronger and tighter. His voice soared in fearless Kurt Elling leaps and swung like Mel Torre, with more electronic treatments. But again, I bailed early for drummer Terri Lynn Carrington’s Social Science on the Main.

Tyreek McDole, above; Terri Lynn Carrington’s Social Science, below

Her groove flowed strong, no surprise, but vocal messages dominated, claiming independence and everyone’s rights in words of soaring defiance. Guitarist Matthew Stevens’s rhapsodic “Forest Song” injected an oasis of nature worship into a flow of often rap-sodic urgings, of passionate, compassionate, often feisty words. It balanced, though, as message music sometimes doesn’t. “Solidarity Song” accused, then “Children’s Song” more softly argued the value of all humans. The set gained gravitas after the smooth-jazz lightness of some early tunes, throwing moral punches later.

Bill Frisell’s Trio plus Gregory Tardy. Tardy is at left here, with Thomas Morgan, Frisell, Rudy Royston; Tardy, below

In the Wood, guitarist Bill Frisell played in a sort of parallel to Carrington. His trio felt compact, contained and cozy-quiet, until guest saxophonist Gregory Tardy exploded things. Ever restless Frisell makes new albums often, new bands to match. He named his new “In My Dreams” well. Its dreamy new tunes flowed easy in Saturday’s warm summer air. “Ishfahan” from the new album settled in, a soothing breeze of trademark treble guitar chords and laid-back drums from Rudy Royston and bass by Thomas Morgan. Then, like a hot gust, came Tardy’s tenor to take it outside, down the road. Tardy played clarinet with the same force, like the refreshing melodic push Frisell’s longtime violinist Jenny Scheinman (not on this gig) provides.

Cecile McLorin Salvant also started sweet and soft on the Main, stretching her voice low to croon the lovely ballad “With Every Breath I Take.” She gradually built force and feeling, waltzing through her “Take This Stone” before going all human trumpet in the brassy Brecht-Weill “Barbara’s Song” – stunning in range and power. Poignant again in her Toni Morrison tribute “What Does Blue Mean To You,” she lamented “unfixable pain,” then bandleader Sullivan Fortier tore up the piano in compassionate underdog rage. A 17th century French chanson learned in childhood charmed like the antique it was. A woman behind me said, “Sounds like opera” – not a good thing, her tone suggested. But it was; so was the Broadway-zesty “If They Could See Me Now.”

Salvant, at right, with Sullivan Fortner

She confessed nervousness at “my hero” Dianne Reeves’s presence. Unafraid, Salvant poured her idealism into a tour-de-force expression of hope for America, tomorrow.

The Dip. above; singer Tom Eddy, below

After Salvant – a solid trio with a superb singer – another trio without one seemed less appealing. I stayed where I was, missing Orrin Evans in the Wood to hang in the Main for the Dip. Liking them less than the crowd did, I stayed, giving the Seattle horn-and-vocals rock band another chance, then another. With Les McCann’s “Compared to What?” in a spirited roll, they managed to burst out of the late-period Blood Sweat and Tears and Chicago bag that felt second hand. Their own best songs had melody, punch and cohesion; “Fill My Cup” and “Real Contender” were standouts, as singer Tom Eddy led them well.

A Memorial in Sound, the Miles Electric Band, above; trumpeter Keyon Harrold, below

The Miles Electric Band paid wide-ranging tribute to music Miles Davis made from 1969’s “Bitches Brew” to his death (1991), a mixed bag of milestones “In A Silent Way” and “Jack Johnson,” pop song remakes and amped aggression. (A Bitches Brew band show I saw in Seattle in fall 1970 was an explosive surprise of vivid culture-clash discomfort as folks in suits and frocks fled something louder and harder-hitting than “Kind of Blue.” But I digress.)

The bustling Miles Electric Band started hard and hot Saturday and sampled Miles’s evolving styles of clipped trumpet bursts over knock-down funk, amped (very) hard bop and borrowed pop.

“Jack Johnson” kicked down the door, “In a Silent Way” and “It’s About Time” charmed,” as did “Time After Time” (a Cyndi Lauper hit ) and “Human Nature” (Michael Jackson), both wistful and low-key. Much else went wild and wilder; challenging, hard-driving and noisy. Up front, trumpeter Keyon Harrold (who played last year’s festival) and saxophonist Antoine Roney brought the melodies while a bristling rhythm section drove the delivery truck: drummer and Miles’s nephew Vincent Wilburn Jr., bassist Darryl Jones (stalwart for decades in the Rolling Stones touring band), guitarist Jean-Paul Bourelly, keyboardist Robert Irving II and others. A mighty funk engine, including turntables by DJ Logic. Some had played with Miles, notably Wilburn and Jones; but all had the spirit and brought the sound.

When Patti Labelle closed, also on the Main, her voice rang magnificently; all the way there, not just a condescending “still” there. At 82, overheated in a layered gold outfit, she commanded the crowded stage with voice and presence; saxophonist Lakecia Benjamin would dub her the Queen of Shenanigans Sunday on the same (Main) stage.

Goofing on her age, Labelle said what once was the fire of desire became that of menopause years ago.

She sang lightweight “Beverly Hills Cop” numbers “Stir It Up” and “New Attitude” with the same vocal and emotional investment as more substantial material worthy of her pipes and delivery. “On My Own” packed all the pain and pride of heartbreak, then endurance.

When she remarked on the heat, a woman in a green dress emerged from the crowd and handed her a small battery fan; she loved it. Art imitated life: When LaBelle changed outfits, she emerged in a similarly bright green outfit.

She tossed flowers to the crowd and band members when they hit a hot lick. She kicked off her glistening high-heels but didn’t stay barefooted long; a natty valet installed another sparkly pair from the rows waiting on the piano. When a fan called out “I love you!” she brought him to a closer seat and spritzed him with the same scent she’d just applied.

She coasted only a little; band-members revved flashy solos after she introduced them, and her four wonderful singers carried generous stretches in some songs. Both horn players came forward to work the crowd as she swapped outfits; but when she came back – wow! – she took over the song they’d been vamping – Michael McDonald’s “I Keep Forgettin’” – and turned it inside out with sky-splitting high notes. The intimacy of “Only You Knew” hit just as hard, but sweet and sad.

As I drove home, south toward the full moon, a bright meteorite flew straight overhead and right past it. Who could ask for more after a day of sunshine and music and meeting friends in the sounds and the summer glow?

Gallery