LOS ANGELES — A few songs into Herbie Hancock’s concert at the Hollywood Bowl on Wednesday night, a 50th-anniversary celebration of Head Hunters, he dug into a dark-horse favorite from that album, a tune called “Vein Melter.” His band didn’t often play the song in concert during its heyday, so I was ecstatic to hear Harvey Mason’s familiar bass drum pulse set the groove. As on the record, an electric bass melody gave way to a swirly atmosphere created on bass clarinet by the amazing Bennie Maupin, which yielded to Hancock’s elaborations on Fender Rhodes. It was a subtle musical statement, but a highlight of the concert, and powerful musical reckoning for me; I was hearing the sound that shaped my life in real time.
Hancock, 84, is the Creative Chair for Jazz at the Hollywood Bowl, and has organized other special programming there, including an all-star tribute to his friend Wayne Shorter last year. This was a tribute of another sort, honoring a landmark in his own body of work.
As soon as the Head Hunters tribute was announced in February, I resolved to be there. I’ve often said that Hancock and his early-to mid-‘70s bands helped form the basis of my socialization as a listener, a musician, a broadcaster and a curator. For fans of jazz, funk, rock and beyond, these albums represent the best marriage of deep groove vocabulary with top-tier improvisational excellence. And on this occasion, Hancock reenlisted the Fender Rhodes and clavinet, two of the primary keyboard voices that gave him and the original Headhunters their sonic identity.
With my excitement and anticipation building over the last several weeks, I had somehow managed to temper expectations by the time I arrived at the Bowl. Together with Mason and Maupin and percussionist Bill Summers, Maestro Hancock released Head Hunters half a century ago. This exact lineup had not been in a studio or on a stage together in as much time.
There would also be two key absences — most notably Paul Jackson, the band’s inventive and hard grooving bassist, who died in 2021. Another electric bass master, Marcus Miller, had stepped in, and I wondered how much he would yield to Jackson’s foundational fingerstyle groove, in contrast to the thumping style he typically employs. The other missing person was the drummer most closely aligned with this band, Mike Clark. Fifty years ago, on a recommendation from Jackson, he got the Hancock gig just weeks before the album was released, because Mason had decided to stay in Los Angeles and maintain his active studio career. (Clark and Summers are very much active today as The Headhunters, and perform the classic material along with new music. It’s hard to see having them both on hand as anything but an asset.)
I shared a terrace box with KKJZ radio broadcaster and musician José Rizo and his wife, Leticia. I knew of Rizo, but this was our first in-person meeting. The couple welcomed me instantly, and José and I traded a few broadcast stories and reflections on Hancock’s music. Somehow the conversation shifted to NBA legend and jazz aficionado Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: the six-time NBA champion is a frequent listener to Rizo’s show and had become a friend. As Rizo showed me a photo from a recent listening session they had in his home music library, we were interrupted by the announcer’s welcome and introduction of a previously unannounced guest emcee: none other than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Cue the delighted laughter.
Abdul-Jabbar’s brief remarks provided historical context and personal reflections, capturing the enthusiasm of the event. He brought on each of the band members and embraced Hancock, who then struggled to reach the wireless mic that had been set for the 7’2” former NBA center. Everyone shared a laugh as Hancock solicited applause for Abdul-Jabbar and reintroduced the Headhunters band, plus young altoist Devin Daniels and auxiliary keyboardist Julian Pollack.
After blessing the crowd with a brief Yoruba prayer and translation, Summers began the familiar ‘hindewho’ whistle-singing intro for “Watermelon Man.” While I have seen him execute this live on a few occasions, the crowd’s response was the most electric that I ever experienced. As a matter of fact, at different points during the night, and as we were leaving the Bowl, I could hear concertgoers singing Summers’ intro from this iconic arrangement.
Next up was “Sly” — a high-energy dedication to Sly Stone, whose music was a muse for Hancock to find his own way into the groovy landscape of the 1970s. As each solo section of the tune hovers mostly on one chord, its success depends primarily on energy and deft listening; each section ends with a three-note cue repeated three times. I knew this tune would be the toughest for the ensemble to navigate. As the opening melody was tentatively rendered, Maupin quickly caught fire during the solo, managing to cue everyone to the hard stop, which drew applause from the crowd.
Then it was Hancock’s turn. With the iconic album version trying to make its way into my consciousness, I wondered how he would approach the Fender Rhodes solo. After four bars of bass, percussion and drums, he began weaving together fresh lines and chordal punctuations in his signature style. Although the energy crescendoed, this “Sly” solo was more about riding with and against the rhythmic backdrop of Miller, Summers, and Mason, who hit their full stride. It seemed as if Hancock and the rhythm section played past their cue to stop, but that was actually a setup for Daniels, who took a respectful but probing alto saxophone solo. As he’s been making some dates with the current Hancock group as of late, Daniels’ stage time with this group of veterans helped to drive home the message of his bright emergence.
“Sly” gave way to “Vein Melter,” followed by a brief medley of “Palm Grease” and “Butterfly” from the band’s subsequent album, Thrust. It was interesting to hear Mason and Miller playing these songs. While they were excellent and in the language of the original grooves, it was here that the Jackson-and-Clark rhythm section was missed most. I enjoyed what I was hearing, but I knew that this could not equal the rapport and brotherhood of the two Bay Area jazzers who were equal trailblazers of the ‘70s groove revolution. The only regret of the show was that they weren’t name-checked or acknowledged at some point in the evening. I’m sure it was an honest oversight — the entire show had a sense of preparation down to the wire — but Hancock, Maupin, Mason, Summers, Jackson and Clark are each contributors to this musical history.
Hancock’s new band played the second set, and dazzled us with their precision and wizardry. I will certainly see them again as they visit the East Coast in the fall. I left the Hollywood Bowl feeling satisfied and with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. To hear this music revisited by these masters for one evening, in my lifetime, was unbelievable.
