Snarky Puppy at The Ogden Theatre: May 24, 2016 [Review]
Michael League and co. deliver the goods in Denver
By Eric Frank
May 26, 2016
Photos © Gary Sheer Photography
Few bands of late have managed to capture the attention of so many fans across such a broad spectrum of music the way Snarky Puppy has. A funk band arises here, a lackluster DJ there, and an uninspiring jam-band will come and go in the blink of an eye. Bands all too often fail to grab hold and stick to our collective catalog we designate as "relevant" music.
To the ever-shrinking minority unfamiliar with the band, it may seem that Snarky Puppy sprouted overnight. The instrumental collective that employs, at various times, some 40 different musicians—referred to as "The Fam"—seem to be the topic of conversation of every music enthusiast from jazz aficionados to funksters, hipsters and everything in between.
But the reality is that Snarky Puppy has worked its ass off for more than a decade, employing innovative marketing techniques, touring relentlessly both domestically and abroad, and offering master classes to young and eager music students to further develop their brand. These factors have, over time, tipped the band's efforts from "just another band with talent" into the beginnings of a musical panacea.
I could go on interminably about the band itself... what they've accomplished, how they did it, and the direction(s) they're heading. The 2-time Grammy winners could easily be a case study in the fields of marketing, music theory or even educational practice. But I digress, so let's get to recalling Snarky Puppy's sold-out show at The Ogden Theatre on Tuesday, May 24th, 2016.
From the first notes cast into the night, it was evident that The Pup was eager to showcase new material from their latest effort, Culcha Vulcha—the group’s first true studio release in nearly a decade. The nonet's opening numbers, which included the Brazilian-drenched "Semente," were vibrant and danceable, seducing the crowd for what was to come. What came next was "White Cap," the up-tempo, four-on-the-floor opening number from the 2010 release Tell Your Friends. The horn-driven melody climbs meticulously over the driving rhythmic patterns, unstoppable in its quest for crescendo until the sonic levees can take no more, eventually spilling unto the audience a welcome respite. At this point, front-man, bassist and composer Michael League addresses the audience for the first time, informing his frenzied crowd of the creation of the band's new material.
And of that new material, "Gø" would come next, a song that League informs translates to "bark" in Danish. The song's rolling bass line undulates like a wave beneath a staggered yet beautifully constructed drum beat, offering a rhythmic complexity that mimics the brass melody before a synth wash clears the air. After a Rhodes amalgamation and an enveloped trumpet solo, a staccato brilliance embodies the bridge, providing the foundation for a nasty Nord keyboard solo. This softly segues into the fifth song of the evening, an eerie yet somehow calming number that lends itself to a movie soundtrack of a sophisticated stalker. Propelled from darkness, a foreboding and ominous number follows featuring League on synth bass, from which a nasty funk arises to showcase an utterly mind-blowing, effect-drenched violin solo that has the band visibly excited.
At this point, the audience is informed of a special treat; special guest drummer Adam Deitch would be joining the band for the next tune! As excitement filled the air and cell phones lit the room, the stage remained nine, and with it came... gloom? Well, maybe not gloom, but disappointment anyway. WHERE THE HELL IS DEITCH?! It was one of those magical moments where, having yet to see him backstage, League "[didn't] actually know if he's here."
No worries, as the more than capable Larnell Lewis would continue his drumming duties for the next few tunes, flaunting an absolutely dazzling solo and leading the way through the fan favorite "Shofukan," a sexy Arabic-funk-rejoice which includes an impressive up-tempo drum duel, guitar patterns reminiscent of Adrian Belew and King Crimson, and which incites an a cappella refrain from the audience. An abrupt ending concluded the set as the crowd continued the melodic chant during the encore break.
One final treat was in store as special guest Adam Deitch would finally be located for the encore, performing the prefatory track to Culcha Vulcha, "Tarova"—a dirty, head-bobbin', booty-shakin' bounce of a tune that electrified the room one last time.
Applause. Lights. History.
This wouldn't be a proper review if I didn't mention at least something critical, although I don't have much to complain about. Snarky Puppy is a band on the rise—and deservedly so. These guys manage to showcase a vast knowledge of music, implementing elements of jazz, world, funk and fusion while illustrating and inciting emotion, vigor and tenacity (not to mention a high level of danceability). Melodies hearken the likes of Return To Forever while the sophisticated and cerebral grooves of Weather Report seem inescapable. This band may very well be the savior of fusion music and act to reintroduce a generation to high-quality and authentic jazz, reinstating instrumental mastery atop the list of desired attributes in sought after musical gratification.
Part of me, however, desires a bit more sonic exploration within said analytical compositions. I employ a deep, deep desire to explore the musically unknown. The uncharted waters of such an intellectually fulfilling script seem boundless and I'd like to collectively look for the edge. Perhaps that might be more easily fulfilled with keyboardist and Hammond organ specialist Cory Henry, notably absent from this show and the last several Snarky Puppy shows I've attended. While Bill Laurance was more than capable, he lacks the innovation and sheer mastery that Henry exudes. I understand... Snarky Puppy is a collective of ever-changing musicians which, in and of itself, is a means to some of the exploration I claim to seek. These "complaints'' are minor, however, falling into the immaterial category of “for what it’s worth,” and will undoubtedly get left behind in my memory of this magnificent musical evening.