Day 2 of the Annual Chicago Jazzfest proved to be another exhilarating day. The temperatures were pleasant, and the sky was blue. Although I heard lots of great music, I spent most of the day waiting in anticipation for the tonight’s closing act, guitarist extraordinaire Bill Frisell.

But I started the day with Roya Naldi, a singer of considerable talent. She performed three songs by Bing Crosby during the portion of her set that I heard. I remember Crosby’s syrupy television shows from my childhood and teen years, so I am not predisposed to liking anything associated with Crosby, including his famous duet with David Bowie. Maybe I heard White Christmas too many times or was turned off by the so-called “Road Movies” starring Crosby and his sidekick, Bob Hope—all set in exotic places that were contrivances on a Hollywood backlot.

Naldi, however, changed my mind about Crosby, or at least her interpretation of his work. As should be apparent, she mines the classic jazz vein from the Twenties to the Forties, and she has struck gold. I will make a point to look for her in the clubs.

I then headed over to the Von Freeman Pavilion to catch the up and comer Arman Sangalang on tenor saxophone leading his quartet, which included master bassist Matt Ulery, who is always up to something interesting. In one of the numbers I caught, Sangalang showed why his star is quickly rising, starting with slow -extended notes, and then gradually sliding into a more traditional solo, riding the rhythm provided by the other players until he exited the stage, allowing guitarist Dave Miller to offer his own take on Sangalang’s solo.

Time, however, waits for no one during the Fest’s four-day run, so I found myself back on the Harris Theatre’s rooftop for saxophonist Lenard Simpson’s set. He and his band offered a swirling number that could have easily been on any number of ECM recordings. Particularly notable were the expansive chords offered by pianist Julius Tucker, with Simpson’s sax using the Tucker’s notes to propel itself upward.

I then headed back to the Von Freeman Pavilion so I could catch part of trumpeter Russ Johnson’s set. The highlight of Johnson’s set was the return to Chicago of violinist Mark Feldman from New York and Nashville.

It was then back to the Harris Theatre’s rooftop to catch the LowDown Brass Band. While the band was both visually and musically exciting, I did not stay long because the volume was painfully excessive—keep in mind I wear both 32 DB earplugs and a the “hearing protectors” that the folks on tarmac at O’Hare use when directing jets into and out of the gates. I could still feel the bass lines pulsating. This band would be far more enjoyable at greatly reduced decibels, as this clip from a Tiny Desk Concert demonstrates.

I stopped by the WDCB tent located on the south side of Millennium Park several times, where guitarist Henry Johnson was playing during one of my visits. This stage carries an informal vibe, so both the audience and the musicians are very relaxed. Some people were sprawled out on the surrounding grass under the shade provided by the trees, while others took advantage of the provided seating. Others danced. It is a popular stage, often with a couple of hundred people listening to local jazz stars. Johnson demonstrated once again why he is an in-demand guitarist.

But by 4:00 PM i was in the photo pit in front of the Priztker Pavilion waiting for Ethan Philion and Company to take the stage, with Philion offering his Meditations on Mingus. The group included ten musicians, mostly sitting behind music stands, which made my photographic efforts rather pointless. But Charles Mingus has always been one of my favorite musicians and composers—I wrote a college term paper on him—so I enjoyed reconnecting with him, as channeled through Philion, who was quick to point out that Mingus’ music is still very relevant given our polarized times.

All the musicians lived up to Mingus’ standards, but I couldn’t help focusing on Alexis Lombre, the young piano phenom who is showing up on a lot of stages. She just gets better and more confident each year.

After a short intermission, tenor saxophonist JD Allen took the stage, with Kayvon Gordon on drums and Tyrone Allen on bass. The program notes drew an obvious comparison with Sonny Rollins’ trio work from the Fifties. No doubt Allen is an extremely talented player and a crowd favorite, but he should take a lesson from Sonny Rollins—play fewer notes. As Rollins aptly demonstrated, it is the silence between the notes that makes or breaks the effort.

Next up, singer Jazzmeia Horn. As a photographer, I am greatly appreciate her creative attire. Always colorful and exotic, which I suspect is the point. I, however, am not a fan of her singing. Actually, she has a nice voice, but she relies too heavily on vocalizations—not scat singing; more an effort to imitate an instrument such as a horn. Also, her stories between numbers tend to ramble on. She would be well served to focus more on singing words and songs. The audience, however, seemed to enjoy her efforts, so I am in a minority.

The big moment of the day then arrived. Bill Frisell took the stage, together with bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Rudy Royston. Of all the musicians who will or have appeared at this year’s Chicago Jazzfest, Frisell is the one who will have the greatest impact on jazz. Over the last four decades, Frisell has revolutionized jazz guitar, working with a wide variety of musicians in as many forms.

Tonight, his efforts leaned toward his countrified efforts. He and his two mates performed works from their 2020 album Valentine, including the civil rights anthem, We Shall Overcome, and the Burt Bacharach/Hal David standard, What the World Needs Now is Love.

Frisell must have known I was in the audience, because he played at least one selection from my favorite Frisell album, Good Dog, Happy Man. I have no idea which one or ones because I just listen to that album from start to finish. It has been described as countrified, but I find the pitch, electronic flourishes, and ethereal nature of the playing to be the selling point. If the result is country, I am up for more country.

Frisell apparently is somewhat detached from his surroundings, or should I say, he exists in the moment? When he returned to the stage for his encore, he apparently noticed for the first time that he was on the large screen behind him, which he referred to as a television It is hard to see how he could have missed that gigantic screen during the 75 minutes he had been standing in front of it. Even he laughed. Endearing.

Frisell and company certainly did not disappoint. I look forward to seeing him again in the not too distant future.

And so, the curtain came down on another great day of music.

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