Seconds before Phil Collins took the stage at the Petrillo Band Shell Thursday, a cloud bank rolled in from the east, squelching the heat and ushering in a welcome breeze. The weather change seemed appropriate, given the cool Collins demonstrated in translating some of his best-known songs to the big-band realm.
Backed by some two dozen musicians, including alumni of the Northern Illinois University jazz program, Collins triumphed in a set that showed many facets of his musical versatility. Most listeners may know him as a pop singer, songwriter and drummer, but in the jazz realm, Collins demonstrated a graceful ability to hop between straight swing, cabaret stylings (aided by the vocal presence of alto diva Oleta Adams), Latin polyrhythms and moodier textures reminiscent of Miles Davis–all over a 2 1/2 hour stretch.
Collins did not sing, except for two numbers during the encore, and most of the 22 songs were rendered without vocals. But that hardly diminshed the joy of the evening; half the fun of this concert was trying to name the Collins or Genesis tune in its souped-up jazz version.
Collins had some clever charts to work with, as evidenced by a sassy rendition of “I Don’t Care Any More.” The introduction sizzled with percussive bursts of conga and bongo framed by single-note horn blasts; the trumpets razzed and growled their way through the refrain melody, a sly play on the song’s dismissive title.
In some cases, lightweight pop songs such as “Two Hearts” soared to a classier level. Propelled by a buoyant upright bass line, the sweet arrangement, reminiscent of Quincy Jones’ work with Frank Sintra, boasted plenty of kick. One could easily imagine a serious saloon singer such as Tony Bennett contributing the vocal.
At times Collins sounded too eager to please, as marked by the occasional foray into smooth jazz territory. As alto saxophonist Gerald Albright kicked into “Against All Odds,” he stuck with a slick parroting of vocal line through the first verse and chorus, the band offering little counterpoint or punctuation in return. Still, there was something playful about Collins kicking in the rhythm with his trademark power-drum fill–and Albright’s ending, riding on a bed of plaintive flute flourishes, was more filigree than filler.
As far as soloists went, Harry Kim’s moving flugelhorn work on “Hold On My Heart” proved more satisfying. Knitting the melody into a free-form meditation, Kim introduced hazy hues and forlorn runs that foreshadowed gentle movements up and down in tempo. On drums, Collins’ brushwork was sublime and superb.
In fact, Collins seemed intent on giving others their time in the spotlight. Adams’ six-song mini-set transformed the Petrillo stage into a smoky lounge, as the Kansas City singer demonstrated supple phrasing and a multi-octave range brandished with a dancer’s grace.
