James Moody, saxophone, David Hazeltine, piano, Dr. Todd Coolman, bass, Dennis Mackarel, Drums. Special guest, Randy Brecker, trumpet.

The James Moody Quartet and their special guest artist Randy Brecker took to the stage at The Ruth Seaton Auditorium last Friday evening in the first of two scheduled concerts as part of this year's Bermuda Festival of the Performing Arts.

The time flew swiftly by, but it was filled with gem-like creations from this stellar combination.

Moody himself, a veteran of the Be Bop Revolution, proved to be more than merely a master of his instrument; he was also a funny and engaging raconteur, a risqué singer, and would-be rap artist. He had the audience cackling with laughter at his sometimes scatological sayings, as well as his scat singing. His rewriting of a classic lyric to yield "Benny's From Heaven", about disputed paternity won the crowd's enthusiastic applause.

But first, the music. The group opened with a Moody composition, 'Last Train from Overbrook', written to celebrate his release from the alcohol treatment centre where finally he overcame his alcoholism. The ensemble's theme suggested the motion of a train moving along a track (a sound recurrent in jazz and blues compositions), and the mournful sound of a train whistle. James and all the sidemen soloed, and at once the pattern for the evening was established; after the solos the horns took turns trading fours with the drummer, the immaculate Dennis Mackarel.

Dennis Mackarel, a youthful looking 47, played without the sometimes histrionic show some jazz drummers often put on, but his effects were even more stunning. These effects included balance, clarity of sound, rhythmic interest, tonal variety, a tour de force of unusual mastery. He was present without ever being obtrusive, responding subtly to the various tropes the soloists developed.

Tunes selected included a bossa nova flavoured "Invitation", but with the pianist subtly hinting at this music's affinity to salsa. This yielded outstanding solos by Moody and Brecker. The stuff of Moody's improvisation was bluesy, modal, (especially the five tone pentatonic scale), chromaticisms and transposed sequences. This was the stuff he's accumulated throughout his six-decade career as a master improviser, one supposes, and he put it to very creative use.

Brecker was interesting to watch as well as to hear. He has the curious habit of removing the trumpet from his embouchure, turning his eyes upwards as if listening to what he's both just played, and pretesting what he is about the hear. It is always fascinating, as a matter of course, to be in the presence of and be witness to, the instant musical creations of jazz artists. Brecker is especially engaging; his work evinces harmonic structure, and is free of the musical equivalent of cant and cliché. Yet it is certainly not all cerebral, and balances the emotional aspect in an aesthetically pleasing way.

His bright phrasings made me think of handfuls of gold coins tossed skyward and falling, in sunlight.

After the intermission the group opened with "The Eternal Triangle". Moody joked before the tune began that in two more payments the saxophone would finally be paid for.

This was followed by 'There Is No Greater Love', a tune from the Miles Davis Quintet songbook, during which Hazeline's solo work called to mind Basie, but more importantly, Davis' Jamaican sideman Wynton Kelly. It foreshadowed another classic Davis made his own: "My Funny Valentine."

Brecker was brilliant, eking from his trumpet amber-lit phrasings so reminiscent of the late master.

Moody afterwards informed the audience in his own unrepeatable phrase just what Brecker had done with the famous tune. Unfortunately, he also went on to give us the past tense of his verb.

"Con Alma", Dizzy Gillespie's composition, followed. It is a two-paced melody, first Latin, then swing. It was interesting to hear Mackerel lead the band through the shift in rhythm.

On the saxophone Moody was uncharacteristically restrained but then he sang, to everyone's delight, "Here I Go". And what a singer he is; sort of Bop's answer to Trad's Satchmo. This somehow morphed into a danceable popular beat and lo and behold, Moody was rappin' and dancing. The audience loved it of course. It was an opportunity too for the eponymously named Dr. Coolman to shine, as he did all night in truth, on the double bass.

They closed out the evening with "St. Thomas", sharing out the solo work, trading fours again, and generally having fun with the music and each other.

Moody never once brought out the flute, which was a disappointment to his legions of fans who turned up and sat down front and centere; a shame too, because he consistently polls among the top jazz flautists, year after year.

The time flew, maybe because we were having fun!