Long ago, I used to ramble through the aisles of record stores. One of my first recollections is the store that eventually became Dirty Jack’s Record Rack, located on Farwell Avenue on Milwaukee’s Eastside, which I discovered while accompanying my parents on a Sunday afternoon to see the Hippies. My parents were fascinated by the people on the streets, but I still remember all the colorful album covers inside that store, with swirls mimicking light shows and trippy photos of bands. I didn’t have enough time to gaze at those covers, but I soon was a regular at Radio Doctors and Bay Music. That’s when I started collecting music. Eventually, I returned to Farwell Avenue, buying albums at NMC, Dirty Jack’s (great Blue Note and Actuel cutouts), and 1812 Overture (located on nearby Brady Street).

Like many others, I started with the FM staples—John Mayal, Al Kooper and Mike Bloomfield, the Velvet Underground (I couldn’t resist the peel-off banana on the cover), and Pink Floyd, among others. I soon found myself searching the jazz bins, in large part because jazz offered the extended jams that I had discovered on a few live recordings such as Pink Floyd’s Unmmagumma.

Charles Lloyd was one of the first jazz musicians I uncovered, probably around the time I was a freshman or sophomore in high school—Charles Lloyd in the Soviet Union, Forest Flower, Charles Lloyd in Europe, and Dream Weaver. As I continued to explore, my focus shifted to Coltrane, Monk, Davis, Mingus, Montgomery, Rollins, et. al.

Lloyd seemed to recede into my musical memory, perhaps due to his semi-retirement in 1970. Ironically, I may have seen him live, because during this period he occasionally performed with the Beach Boys.

In recent years, I have returned to my origins. Those old Charles Lloyd albums are worth a listen, but I am particularly fond of his work during the last several decades on ECM . There is both a tranquility and a power to his playing. Lloyd has always recorded with the best, including Bob Stenson, Billy Higgins, John Abercrombie, Palle Daneilson, and Jon Christensen, among others. Even before his re-emergence following a near-death experience in 1986, Lloyd was making some great music. His 1983 album with French pianist Michel Petrucciani comes to mind—A Night in Copenhagen. Take a listen to Night Blooming Jasmine.

So, you can imagine how disappointed I was when Lloyd’s scheduled 2020 concert at the Logan Center became a Covid casualty. Several months ago I exchanged e-mails with Amy Iwano, who was in charge of the Logan’s jazz series (and a lot more). I offered my congratulations on her new job in Santa Fe, telling her if she booked Charles Lloyd I’d be out there in a second. Amy responded, by telling me I wouldn’t have to wait much longer. Shortly thereafter, the Logan Center announced the rescheduled concert. I was in the front row tonight. Lloyd headed a quartet featuring Gerald Clayton on piano, Harish Raghavan on bass, and Eric Harland on drums.

From the outset, I knew this was going to be a special evening. Lloyd came out with a faded orange hat covering his scalp. His beautiful saxophone was waiting in its stand, along with a flute and red taragato (looks and sounds like a clarinet). Before picking up any instrument, however, Lloyd spent a at least five minutes singing the praises of each band member. Usually band members are introduced toward the end of the concert, but Lloyd wanted us to know how much he valued each musician.

That generosity of spirit was evident throughout the 90-minute set. Lloyd took his solos, but he periodically moved to the back of or off to the side of the stage where he stood, obviously marveling at the fine musicianship on display. Each player took his solos, and there were several duets among the players. Lloyd doesn’t give off an emotive vibe, but I occasionally caught a small smile cross his lips.

At 83, Lloyd has clearly honed his craft. As I expected, he produced sonorous tones with his tenor saxophone and his effort on the flute produced beefy rather than the high-pitched tones that usually drive me nuts. The surprise came when Lloyd sat down next to Gerald Clayton for some four-handed piano. I then waited for Lloyd to join Harland on drums, but the closest he got was playing hand-held percussion instruments to add color to the goings on. I don’t think the both of them would have fit on the same stool.

Lloyd closed the concert with what appeared to a Buddhist prayer, which knocked everyone’s socks off—not an image that prayers typically bring to mind.

It was a great evening of music.

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Photographer’s Note: This is one of the few jazz concerts where a three-song limit was imposed on the photographers. That didn’t stop me from making some nice images, but it certainly cut down on the variety. It wasn’t until later in the concert that Lloyd picked up his flute and taragato. Toward the very end, he decided to join Clayton at the piano. It would have been nice to capture those moments from my front seat vantage point, but as reserved as Lloyd is, I was worried that he would have ripped my head off—a fear that was probably more imagined than real, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

Copyright 2021, Jack B. Siegel. All Rights Reserved. Do Not Alter, Copy, Display, Distribute, Download, or Reproduce Without the Express Written Permission of Jack B. Siegel.