If Joe Frazier were a jazz trio

Let me begin in medias res — just like those Greek epics — for this piece about last Friday’s epic gig at Sofitel. 

Guitarist Scott Henderson (Tribal Tech founder who sessioned for Chick Corea and Joe Zawinul), Jeff Berlin (bassist-extraordinaire who held the low-end for Frank Zappa and former Yes drummer Bill Bruford) and Dennis Chambers (the chairman of the skins in funk-jazz-rock outfits from Parliament Funkadelic to Steely Dan to Santana) tore through a blues number with such a house-tearing force. That was the lone R&B tune in an evening of deconstructed standards, heavier Weather Report updates, and blistering trio music.

Henderson clung to his seafoam green-and-white Suhr guitar like an emaciated scarecrow or the wicked witch of western jazz fusion, as if the maelstrom of sound howling through his amp was going to knock him down any moment — and only the guitar was keeping him upright. (He would reveal the source of his shaky mooring after emptying the contents of a tumbler. “Jack Daniels,” he chirped.) But his tone was remarkable — dirty, overdriven, yet with such lilting resonance. His phrasing and pitch were spot-on (at least to a non-musician like me). He fidgeted with the tremolo arm like a joystick. Just imagine Jeff Beck playing Space Invaders.

Chambers posed as a paragon of Zen drumming, beating out everything from perky paradiddles to apocalyptic rolls. That guy’s built like a mountain range.

Berlin, who could play The Star-Spangled Banner or any Hendrix or bebop tunes with a four-string bass all by his lonesome, stayed comfortably in the pocket, mapping out the chord changes with his Dean bass, looking professorial all the while. (Si Jeff Berlin nagpo-poste? Eh, kahit si Geddy Lee ng Rush at si Jack Bruce ng Cream bilib sa kanya. Naka-jam pa n’ya si Jaco.)

It’s three for all in this case. Such great chemistry among Henderson, Berlin and Chambers who are doing a short tour of Japan, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and — music to our ears — the Philippines.  

The Philippine International Jazz Festival Foundation, JB Music, and WombWorks Studio pitched in to make that gig happen. PIJazz has been around for five years now, and it has done well: From its humble beginnings, the festival has become a key event in bringing in on some of the most popular foreign jazz acts such as Deodato, Kevyn Lettau, Diane Schurr, and Spyro Gyra, as well as putting the spotlight on homegrown jazz musicians. (Bayang Barrios and the Villegas brothers who opened the concert were excellent; they should’ve played more songs.)

Louie Talan — the fantastic bass player who co-produced the concert with friends from PIJazz such as Edgar Avenir and Sandra Viray — initially thought the Henderson, Berlin & Chambers lineup was too good to be true. It was quickly verified after doing a quick check on Scott Henderson’s website. Louie explains, “Oftentimes, if you put a few virtuosos together on stage, they end up stepping on each other’s toes, each refusing to play a supporting role to the other. I think these three masters will show exactly how it is done and more — and they could raise the bar on trio playing. This is one gig that jazz, blues and rock musicians and aficionados can appreciate at the same time.”

The Razorback bassist was right. Henderson, Berlin and Chambers managed to play their respective instruments and to showcase their ecstasy-inducing technical brilliance, and yet somehow avoided upstaging one another. If Clapton, Bruce and Baker did it ages ago with aplomb in Cream (albeit with bouts of backstabbing, infighting, and onstage wrangling), so could Scott, Jeff and Dennis — but with brown liquor and lots of bad jokes that came with the blistering, blistering music.

The trio started its set at Hotel Sofitel’s Grand Sunset Pavilion subtly at first. I expected the three musicians to come storming out of the backstage huffing and puffing like Muhammad Ali and loudly play a jazz-fusion cover of a Hendrix classic. Purple Haze or something. Instead, they pulled back a bit. I could faintly hear Chambers’ drumming. Henderson softly noodled away. Berlin played with taste and restraint. These guys began more like a Joe Frazier hell-bent on going the distance, the full 15 rounds. A slow-burner.

The three mused over Miles Davis’ All Blues (from the immortal “Kind of Blue”), did a rampaging cover of Wayne Shorter’s Mysterious Traveler (from the 1974 Weather Report album; the trio would play more tunes from the band before the night was through), then a swaggering swipe at John Coltrane’s Giant Steps, with Henderson handing out horn-like guitar lines while Berlin and Chambers kept things in full swing. Tough, tough shit to play. They also played Horace Silver’s Peace, with Scott and Jeff counter-pointing each other like two pianos conversing. The bassist looked upward and laid out the melody. It was beyond poignant.

As the guitarist and drummer took a break, Jeff Berlin played a solo bass showcase: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton. If Victor Wooten does the same with Stevie Wonder’s Overjoyed or the inspirational Amazing Grace via a two-handed tapping and thumb-thumping technique, Jeff takes a different technical route. But not any less astounding, mind you: you could almost swear hearing Clapton and Nathan East playing together when Berlin did that number. That alone was worth the price of the “Jazzin’ Manila” ticket.

My favorite number of the night (aside from a rousing re-visitation of Billy Cobham’s Stratus, loud and shambolic the way we like it) was the trio’s takes on Weather Report classics from “8:30” — The Orphan and Sightseeing, which began with Scott trying to conjure Joe Zawinul’s Prophet V lines (plus choir) with his guitar and effects rack. “You can do that with a guitar?” one girl in the audience said incredulously. Joe’s lament ghosted the entire pavilion, a fitting tribute to one of the giants of jazz. Then the rest of the trio trotted in with Sightseeing, resulting in a heavier, edgier Weather update.

But the evening wasn’t all about brain music. There were some Monty Pythonesque bits. Take the case of the girl who cried “Freebird!” (to which Berlin quipped, “This is not an American bar!”) or Henderson complaining about spotlights that were roasting him like a piece of Popeye’s Chicken. He also attributed making a “big mistake” on one tune to eating too much from the buffet. The guitarist also announced that he brought CDs for sale, the reason being: “I need money for drugs.”

I could just imagine the made-up matrons in the audience expecting a fine evening of cool jazz music cringing in their expensive seats with every misguided Scott Henderson quip.

A weird moment during the encore: Power went out on Henderson’s guitar rig, leaving the drummer and the bassist to soldier on. Jeff Berlin grabbed the opportunity. He did a standup routine that poked fun at the tone deafness of rock bassists. It was funny. Then the scarecrow got his guitar going again. The man mountain got into high gear. Hot shit. The riffs, the fills, the grooves cooked. These guys could play on and on, round after round, and still stay in fighting form. 

Not unlike Smokin’ Joe in his prime.