And Then There Was One, Plus Seven

Life can intrude on best-laid plans, as happened in this year’s jazz concert calendar, when the scheduled appearance of the Cuban jazz powerhouse Chucho Valdes & Arturo Sandoval Legacy Quintet changed directions and math with pianist Valdes’ unexplained cancellation. It would have been one of the prime events of the jazz portion of the current UCSB Arts & Lectures season. But the show must and did go on, with trumpeter Sandoval bringing out his big “little band” styed octet to Campbell Hall on a recent Saturday night.

Like Valdes, Sandoval proudly carries the torch of the Afro-Cuban jazz tradition and has worked with the pianist in the landmark Cuban band Irakere. Both have lived in Miami for years and have found their way into the upper echelons of jazz renown worldwide. Both have also graced the Campbell Hall stage more than once in the past, and disappointment aside, it was exciting to hear Sandoval’s “voice” here again. 

That instrumental voice is often fast, loud, and high, heeding an aesthetic in jazz trumpet circles, strongly guided by his acknowledged hero and friend Dizzy Gillespie, who even helped Sandoval defect to the US in 1990.

As a recipient of 10 Grammy awards, the Kennedy Center Honors, a White House visit, and other plaudits, jazz spirit obviously runs deep in Sandoval’s veins, and he spoke passionately in support of “America’s greatest indigenous art form” in the hall. Bemoaning the conspicuous lack of jazz on television or other mainstream media sources, he commented, “For me, that is a crime. You can find jazz on straight TV in Finland and Tokyo, but not in the US. Sorry for the speech,” he added, again letting the music speak for itself. 

The Gillespie influence was detectable in Sandoval’s show here, beyond just a brisk medley of bebop tunes in the middle of the set. Sandoval, now 76 and going strong, has an almost too easy and natural virtuosity, which extends from trumpet and flugelhorn (a red model) to keyboards and timbales. His playing can be impressive on its own terms, but we don’t often get a sense of him exploring or going outside his showy comfort zone.

He also sings, as demonstrated first in a playful solo improv outing, skillfully imitating instruments and, in the middle of a softer part, emitting a startlingly loud “blat!” “Just in case anybody’s sleeping,” he joked.

Yes, like Gillespie, Sandoval also injects entertainment value into his shows, as we’ve seen at Campbell Hall in years past. His presence runs counter to the image of the cool, aloof jazz musician onstage, with little or no between-song banter. At one point, his crowd-friendly approach extended to his climbing down into the aisles, complimenting the movie star good looks of a man in the front row and eventually offering his humble, sincere services as a crooner on Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile.” That tune is featured on his 2024 album My Foolish Heart, showcasing the poignant balladic side of his musicality.

Earlier in the set, he pulled out his flugelhorn, a red model, and waxed tastefully balladic before segueing into a speedy bebop tune. The hot stuff is never far behind at a Sandoval show. At the concert’s end, he closed out the finale and the night with a fast upward flurry and a literally supersonic high note. High in frequency, that is.