Josh Redman in Concert by Alfred Pathy 12/05/04

Have you ever heard the old saw, "If a tree fell in the forest and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound?" Well, of course it would, as sound waves would be created by the collision of wood and dirt. On December 4, 2004, jazz saxophonist Joshua Redman led a crack trio including Larry Grenadier on stand-up bass and Ali Jackson on drums and tambourine for a live show at the Tilles Center on the campus of C.W. Post College on Long Island which illustrated the figurative truth of the booming sound of a tree in an empty forest.

In case you hadn't heard, instrumental music, including jazz, is dead. No one listens anymore. In fact, if Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Charles Mingus and Art Blakey were to come back to life, minus their fame, and form a band, they could not get a major label record contract and would play in front of crowds no larger than 1,000.

And yet, none of that stopped the Redman trio from performing a show which contained every bit the musical quality and integrity of the Beatles on the roof of the Apple Building, the Dead at the Winterland, Hendrix at Monterey and Woodstock or the Allmans at the Fillmore. In front of about 400 ossified Long Islanders and scattered hipsters, Redman, Grenadier and Jackson wove a complex musical web which enveloped the audience and took them on the musical ride of their lives.

Shortly after 8 p.m., the shaved-head Redman, dressed in untucked button down dress shirt, black slacks and leather shoes, took the stage with a tenor and soprano sax. Grenadier was dressed similarly, with only Jackson sporting a tie. Without any fuss, the trio eased into old warhorse "Surrey with the fringe on top" from the play Oklahoma. About midway through the number, Redman's long, elegant fingers began to cook on the valves of his tenor, and with his white-hot intensity, melodic innovation and airy-yet-intense tone, it was as though Lester Young and 'Trane were blowing in tandem. The rhythm section played with a deep groove and the controlled fury of an atomic experiment. And the show just got better from there.

When the band went into a Redman-composed tune next, it was clear the first song was no fluke, as Grenadier's bass drove like a locomotive with Jackson pushing the tempo to unbelievable speeds while maintaining the deep groove. Amazingly, three of the originals Redman played during the show had no titles, indicating they have never been released. One of these, a middle-eastern flavored ballad wrung out of the soprano sax, evoked the intrigue of an Egyptian nightclub. In all, the originals showed Redman to be among the best composers working today while the covers, including Redman's favorite Monk tune "Trinkle Tinkle" never saw the band take a back seat to any other versions.

As the evening's magic unfolded before a thoroughly engaged-yet-stunned crowd, those 400 staid Long Islanders began to thunder like the faithful at a legendary Minton's cutting session. Jackson singed the front rows with furiously melodic drumming during Redman's "The Oneness of Two" and swapped his sticks and brushes for extended tambourine solos which boggled the mind. Redman's playing, belying his California cool, was so intense he had to put the horn away from his lips to take deep gulps of air between scintillating runs.

And, at the end of two hours, the crowd was wrung out, eyes and mouths sore from smiling so much. But it was the kind of fatigue which produces the happy afterglow borne of a truly and happily transformative experience.

There will be no review of this show in Rolling Stone, on MTV or even on WBGO. Does that mean it didn't happen? Despite the dreamlike trance created by Redman and the trio, I have the beautiful memory of the big oak falling and scattering the leaves in my mind.