There's a good reason little boys take up the trumpet: they soon discover there is no better excuse to make loud noises in public. Woody Herman's 15-strong band has clearly never grown out of the phase. Where other players might hang up their horns if their leader had kicked the bucket, this herd were enjoying themselves so much when Herman died in 1987 that they just kept thundering on. Herman himself would have been delighted to see it, having handpicked the band's current leader, Frank Tiberi, to continue his 60-year tradition.
It helps to have a rich seam of well-loved material at your disposal. Herman's "herd", once comprising players such as Stan Getz and Zoot Simms, underwent various transformations over the years, and two-thirds of its present remnant played with Herman himself.
Such apprenticeship has made the players expert in quick changes: from the ordered era of Herman's early hits Four Brothers and Early Autumn, through the opening shoo-wop of the Woodchoppers' Ball, to the faster and more frantic strains of Apple Honey, or the syncopation of the bebop number Sidewalks of Cuba.
But the herd announced themselves first with the signature tune Thundering Herd, a number just as evocative of jungle power as the carnival of Saint-Saëns. First came the ponderous elephants, then the lithe tigers and a shrill cackle of birds, and finally the dancing shriek of a cheeky monkey: Tiberi on clarinet.
Perhaps the most outstanding feature of the band, apart from its longevity, is its command and cultivation of a rich sound palette. Every permutation and nuance got a look-in. Exhilaration and energy were keynotes, but there were moments of poignancy, even of contemplation. The quieter tune Sugarloaf Mountain saw saxophonist Bill Ross switching to flute, while John Fedchock's smoky trombone wreathed ribbons of calm amid the tightly bunched energy and the barely contained swells of the rest of the group.
Teamwork and multi-tasking were the hallmark of the night. When John Chudoba on trumpet split his lip from his pressure on the mouthpiece, help in the form of a replacement solo was only a wink away. Even more impressive was the trombone relay work in the complex rhythms of Apple Honey, which built to a climax before the piano cut in and took over.
Surprisingly for such a cheerful-sounding band, you could not imagine a more morose crowd of players. Perhaps it was excessive concentration, or simply force of embouchure, but the grins were few and far between, although drummer James Rupp made up for it by having the time of his life.
