Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!

Related Stories ...

Most Popular

Reader's Picks

Top Recommendations

A short list of Minneapolis's most popular hot spots.
user content provided by: LikeMe.net & City Pages

National Features >

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

Delfeayo Marsalis: Minions Dominion

Share

  • rss

Britt Robson

Published on January 03, 2007

Delfeayo Marsalis
Minions Dominion
Troudadour Jass

Among the jazz royalty in the highly competitive Marsalis clan, nobody would have conjured up Delfeayo—best known for producing his brothers' music—as the one to drop the most distinguished disc of 2006, particularly in a year when Branford's superb Braggtown swaggered into being. But the aptly named Minions Dominion resurrects the snap, crackle, and hard-bop of vintage Blue Note label records from the '60s and the cavernous, incandescent sound of the early Coltrane quartet outings on the Impulse label. Recorded more than two years ago, it is also blessed with the extraordinary grace note of being the scintillating swan song of the late drummer and ex-Coltrane cohort Elvin Jones.

Delfeayo (the tromboning Marsalis, for those of you without a scorecard) and Jones are the only constants throughout Minions' seven songs. "Brer Rabbit" is the Blue Note doppelganger, where Delfeayo's magisterial blowing recalls J.J. Johnson while alto saxophonist Donald Harrison spray-paints notes like Jackie McLean and pianist Mulgrew Miller mines a funky groove Bobby Timmons would recognize, supple bop solo included. One of five Delfeayo compositions, "Lone Warrior" was written for Jones, and from his portentous snare-drum murmuring on the Trane-like intro to his sharp-eared shepherding of Harrison's and Delfeayo's extended solos, Jones transforms the occasion from tribute to sonic textbook for timekeepers everywhere. I'd be remiss to omit mention of Delfeayo's gorgeous, muted trombone solo on the obscure Ellington soft shoe number, "Just Squeeze Me." Or the climactic, roiling finale, "Lost in the Crescent," where Coltrane's old pal Elvin takes his ride cymbal revelries and inimitably smattering snare beats to a higher plane.