This review appears in the July 2011 issue of The New York City Jazz Record.
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Pedro Giraudo Jazz Orchestra
Córdoba (Zoho)
By David R. Adler
If one sound in bassist Pedro Giraudo’s music stands out the most, it is that of Tony De Vivo’s cajón. Somehow this box percussion instrument cuts through the rambunctious reeds and brass of Giraudo’s 12-piece ensemble, rooting the music in South American soil but never weighing it down. All the while, Giraudo, a New Yorker since 1996, conjures rhythms and colors of intricate design, fronting a lineup that has remained remarkably steady over the years. His latest CD, Córdoba, is the best to date: eight compositions forming a symphony of sorts with four winds, two trumpets, two trombones and rhythm (including drummer Jeff Davis alongside De Vivo). The only lapse: horn soloists are clearly identified on Giraudo’s previous releases, but not here.
There’s a story underlying Córdoba, named for the city and province in Argentina where Giraudo was raised. Contrasting urban and rural moods, images of girls riding to school on horseback, the bitter taste of a local tea called mate (mah’-tay): such are Giraudo’s inspirations, stamped with nostalgia and evoked by means of indigenous rhythms such as the chacarera, zamba and baguala. There’s a pronounced folkloric quality and a reliance on clear-as-a-bell tonal harmony, anchored by Jess Jurkovic on piano. Yet the adventurism of New York jazz bursts through, not least in the spitfire improvisation of altoists Will Vinson and Todd Bashore, trumpeters Jonathan Powell and Tatum Greenblatt and trombonists Ryan Keberle and Mike Fahie, among others.
Giraudo is not a showy bassist, but he solos fluently on “Sol Naciente” and nails complex lines on electric bass — a sound new to this group — on “Duende del Mate,” doubling with Vinson’s soprano sax to startling effect. He brings a subtle Ellingtonian flair to the three-part “Pueblo,” adding in a marvelous chorale passage for flutes and bass clarinet. But apart from the finely wrought arrangements, it’s the tight and playfully lopsided rhythm — and the buzzing thud of that cajón — that gives Giraudo’s little big band its most sizable impact.
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