80 Years Young: Live at the Blue Note, March 26, 2005

4 1/2 STARS When it comes to having fun, few events can compete with a birthday party. Fun is clearly at the summit of the agenda on 80 Years Young: Live at the Blue Note, recorded at the famed New York City nightspot on March 26, 2005, to celebrate saxophonist James Moody's eightieth birthday, and released on the same date in 2025 to honor the centenary of his birth. Moody, who, with trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, comprised one of the most humorous and fun-loving duos in jazz history, died in December 2010 at age eighty-five.

In addition to being a superlative jazz musician, Moody was a spellbinding monologist and entertainer, a talent he reveals at the outset on the clever and comical "Benny's from Heaven" and later on the delightful "Moody's Mood for Love," on each of which he indulges his penchant for yodeling and using several changes of voice and demeanor to underscore the comedic message. Following a brief introduction from impresario George Wein, Moody springs with abandon into the farcical tale of "Benny," who awaits his soldier/father after a three-year tour of duty and is told in answer to his understandably bemused questions about his offspring's origin that "Benny's from Heaven." Moody uses every means at his disposal to embellish the implausible narrative and the audience laps it up, rewarding his roguery with a resounding ovation.

Moody shifts from tenor sax to flute on Ray Noble's enduring standard, "Cherokee," racing easily through its mercurial tempo and rigorous chord changes to accentuate his mastery of that instrument while leaving ample room for intense and sure-handed solos by pianist David Hazeltine and drummer Adam Nussbaum. "Moody's Mood," which became an unexpected hit and landed him squarely on the musical map in 1952 (even though it was recorded in Sweden, where Moody was then living, and rather as an afterthought at the end of a long session), is up next, and here again Moody reaches deep into his rhetorical bag of tricks to accentuate the clever lyrics, scatting, yodeling and using his remarkable flexibility to mimic the song's male and female personas before veering into a brief yet perceptive "Television Rap."

Once Moody has ended the comedic horseplay, he gets straight down to business, inviting a number of his heavyweight friends onstage to crown the celebration. These include trumpeters Jon Faddis and Randy Brecker, trombonist Slide Hampton, woodwind virtuoso Paquito D'Rivera, and—on the last number—pianist Cedar Walton. The "jazz set," which subsumes well over half of the album's sixty-four minute playing time, scans a trio of Gillespie's stellar compositions: "Birk's Works," "Bebop" and "Ow." Everyone takes a solo turn on each of them, and no one is less than sharp and engaging. "Bebop," which seems to have been written to imperil the hardiest of chops, is especially enlivening, its merciless rhythmic obstacles readily brushed aside owing to keen and sturdy solos by all hands, including D'Rivera on clarinet.

Even though the ensemble passages on these numbers are a touch ragged (they were, after all, spur-of-the-moment), that does little to detract from the overall happiness and excitement encompassing a truly special occasion. Even on his eightieth anniversary, Moody remained at the top of his game, blowing and improvising in the manner of someone many years his junior and making 80 Years Young seem like far more than a mere catch-phrase. This is one birthday party you'd be more than happy to attend.