Chris Botti Live with Orchestra & Special Guests (Blu-ray)

Connect to Facebook/Twitter, recommend via email and much more.

---

I like jazz, but I'm far from an aficionado--which is why I never heard of Chris Botti. But I'm happy to have made his acquaintance via Blu-ray on "Chris Botti Live with Orchestra & Special Guests." He's a talented guy, and a likeable one--a modest fellow who seems to appreciate being able to make a living as a musician and is just as tickled as we are by the guest stars he invited to join him for a two-day concert at L.A.'s Wilshire Theater. Put him next to Sting, and they could pass for brothers. Put them on the same stage together, and you get quite the musical conversation--same with the other six guests, each of whom takes a turn with the boyish trumpet player. And yowza, wowza, does this concert look and sound great in Blu-ray. It might be one of those discs that you pop in to impress visitors.

To be honest, though, the set list frightened me when I first looked it over. It's one old song after another, including a number of ballads: "Someone to Watch Over Me," "When I Fall in Love," Burt Bacharach's "The Look of Love," "Pennies From Heaven," "My Funny Valentine," and (of all things) the ballad that Elvis made famous, "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" So, I wondered, was this going to be an elevator music concert? Is Botti the trumpeter version of Kenny G.?

Happily, the answer is no. There's plenty of variety here. Though Botti plays the first song, "Someone to Watch Over Me," slow and savory in a smoot,h soft jazz version that stays pretty close to the melody and utilizes a full orchestral back-up, the second song veers off into more improvisational territory. The Gil Goldstein orchestra gets a rest during "When I Fall in Love," during which Botti and his combo really have at it. What impressed me as much as his playing ability was Botti's willingness to share the spotlight. He gives drummer Billy Kilson, guitarist Mark Whitfield, bass player James Genus, and pianist Billy Childs plenty of opportunities to take a turn as featured musician, and this song lets them feel the music and have their fun. Then, after "A Thousand Kisses Deep," a Leonard Cohen song from an earlier album, Botti starts the turnstile.

First up is Sting, who really shows that he can sing jazz standards with the same vocal flair as his pop tunes. Under the glow of blue floodlights, Botti opens by establishing the melody with his trumpet, then yielding the stage to the soloist. Sting really nails "What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?" and feels comfortable enough trying his hand at a little soft scat-singing when he engages Botti in "conversation" as the two then play back-and-forth. It's a pattern that will be repeated for most of the other soloists, and it works well.

Next up is Jill Scott, who follows a tough act with an even rougher one-a raw, sexy rendition of "Good Morning Heartache" that may have moviegoers thinking of Queen Latifah's robust "When You're Good to Mama" from "Chicago." I've never heard of Scott either, but after this performance I'm going to check out some of her CDs. She has a voice that combines sheer power with a graceful precision and purity.

Then comes Paula Cole, who sang with Peter Gabriel's band. Here she teams with pianist-composer Burt Bacharach on "My One and Only Love" and "The Look of Love." Though it's hard not to feel the cheese with the latter, Cole and Botti bend it just enough to make it interesting. After that, Botti launches into "Cinema Paradiso," which is interesting for the mood and tempo changes.

But the real showstopper is Renee Olstead, who, along with Botti, breathes new life into "Pennies from Heaven." She sings as if she's making love, and the musical conversation that she has with Botti seems just as steamy, with a tempo change providing the segue that brings in the full orchestra again. It's the kind of song that you can play over and over again-so full of energy and unique interpretation that it produces the first standing ovation.

If any ballad doesn't translate well via jazz, though, it's the Elvis number. That's no fault of singer Paul Buchanan, who throws himself emotionally into the song with all the abandon of a Joe Cocker. It's just that the arrangement stays too close to the original melody and tempo that it doesn't really jive with jazz musicians pushing all the buttons.

The concert gets quickly back on-track with the Pip-less Gladys Knight, who gets a standing o' just for walking onstage, and another one after she finishes. But it's deserved. Like Sting, she crosses over into jazz by staying within herself and not trying to copy a jazz singer she may have heard. And like Sting, you can see her own comfort level and her willingness to improvise expand as she gains more confidence. Both of them performed as if they'd been singing jazz all their lives, and that's a tribute to them as musicians and also the three arrangers for the concert, whom Botti acknowledges.

I have to say, though, that I'm no fan of "My Funny Valentine," and so the long and slow rendition that has Botti in the audience "singing" to Sting's wife, who brought them together, was so uncomfortably long that you'd think he was playing for me. Sting may have felt the same way, because he lightens the mood with lines sung jokingly to Botti.