University of Indiana professor and regular on the Chicago-jazz scene, Greg Ward, brought a group of talented musicians to Mike Reed’s Constellation for a tribute to Chicago-legend Fred Anderson tonight. During the 90-minute set, Ward on alto saxophone, Justin Dillard on piano and Roland piano synth, Ethan Philion on bass, and Isiah Spencer on drums did just that.

The event was presented by Birdhouse, a Section 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization founded by Anderson in 1977 to sustain Anderson’s music. It continues to present “concerts of contemporary creative music, [] partnering with other organizations that share Anderson’s lifelong commitment to ‘patience, sincerity, and consistency.’”

During the performance, live-painter Lewis Achenbach created another one of his extraordinary paintings that channel the sounds Achenbach hears during a performance onto the canvas. Adding additional authenticity to his effort, Achenbach brought the mirror that once hung in the Women’s Room at Anderson’s famed Velvet Lounge. Achenbach somehow mounted his canvas so that he could paint the musicians as the mirror reflected them while they performed.

As somewhat of a traditionalist, I always come to these sorts of performances with a degree of trepidation. I have no problem with improvisation and new modalities, but sometimes the music can become too abstracted or unmoored for my tastes. Not tonight. Over the course of three or four extended numbers, Ward and company maintained a linear flow, with a variety of nice flourishes. There was, for example, the second from last number when Spencer put down his sticks, opting for a variety of small percussive noisemakers, often sounding like shells being shaken.

Throughout the endeavor, Dillard assumed a somewhat gymnastic posture, playing the piano with his left hand, while playing his Roland synth keyboard with his right hand. By combining the two keyboards, Dillard nicely melded the rich acoustic sounds of the piano with the synthesizer’s electronics. At times, I thought I heard someone blowing whistles, which added a touch of humor.

I have seen Ward many times over the years. Tonight was obviously a labor of love for him. He spent several minutes recounting his first and subsequent encounters with Anderson, who clearly was one of Ward’s mentors. Particularly humorous was the story about the first time Ward played a gig with Anderson. The master gave Ward an album, telling him to familiarize himself with it because that was what they were going to play. As an up and comer who had been given a great opportunity, Ward took the assignment seriously, carefully studying the music before arriving at the gig. Upon arrival, Anderson told Ward that he didn’t feel like playing any of the music on the album that night. We’ve all been there.

Many in the audience were particularly enamored by a ballad that the group played, as was I. But I particularly liked the percussive webs that Spencer and Philion were weaving, providing the netting so that Ward could safely soar.

The evening was a success musically. It also sold out, another form of success; although at $15 a ticket nobody was getting rich.

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