By Ashley Kahn
Special to MSN Music

Sunday, Aug. 13

11:50 a.m.

OK, so I'm a little late getting started this morning, but it's hard to resist the temptations of Newport, R.I., in vacation season, especially when filled with fellow music-world travelers. There were two get-togethers with plenty of good food and conversation that kept me out and about Saturday night, but this morning's music was worth getting rested and ready for.

I arrive in time at the main stage to catch the Bad Plus, that controversial piano group with the heavy rock drumbeat. I've never understood the brouhaha that accompanied their successful debut on Columbia Records. Jazz world arguments of style, purity and especially the fusion of rock rhythms are so old, they should be dropped off at the nearest assisted-living facility.

But here they are, doing a rather sentimental take on a little bit of '60s sugar -- "This Guy's in Love With You" (one of the rare Herb Alpert hits that featured his voice as well as trumpet). The Bad Plus' penchant for the odd cover amongst their angular, rhythmically focused originals

usually leans to the ironic -- injecting a Black Sabbath tune into their set and perhaps later a Nirvana melody. But this time around it feels sincere and willfully creative, and the audience seems to agree with energetic reception.

12:05 p.m.

Christian Scott is yet another in a long, long line of great New Orleans trumpeters. His band -- alto sax, keyboards, guitar, bass and drums -- appears to be as young as he is, and yet has a nice, mature groove between them. The music they're offering in the Waterside tent is not unlike the sparse, funk-infused tunes on his debut CD "Rewind That" -- reminiscent of mid-'60s Miles Davis but with a more focused R&B bottom (small surprise given the band's mostly rooted in the Cresent City).

He ends one tune to supportive response, then introduces "Say It," explaining how the title stems from a near-altercation in Boston (where he attended music school) that he decided to channel into musical expression. I've noticed how musicians treat appearances at these festivals as an opportunity to reach listeners beyond the usual jazz club-goers, hence stories such as this one.

The tune moves along at a mellow, almost dreamy pace -- the confrontation of the past, transformed successfully into a more meditative response.

12:27 p.m.

Guitarist Ron Affif is leading an energetic number backed by Montez Coleman on stand-up bass and Richie Goods on drums. They are mid-tune in the Pavilion tent -- only half full -- and visibly having fun: Affif's throwing his body into a number that seems to be a melding of the distinctive gospel riff from Bobby Bland's "Turn on Your Lovelight" with the melody to Fats Waller's "Jitterbug Waltz."

Affif is well-known in his native New York City for the Monday night jams he's been hosting for years at Zinc Bar. He mentions this before his final number, laughing at how different the view is in that thin basement bar on Houston Street compared with the view of an open bay with sailboats gliding across the water that he's now watching. "Then again," he laughs, "By 3 a.m. on some nights you might be seeing boats or anything else you want ..." He introduces the next tune as a blues song written for his home club and brings the set to a spirited close.

12:46 p.m.

Time for a break. A stroll and 15-minute pause while looking over the water, watching a veritable flotilla of leisure craft coming and going is all that's needed to help still the soul for a few minutes. I can only imagine thatfor the locals and regular visitors, the panorama becomes a given over time. But for a visiting city boy with a cell phone that works only intermittently, the entire experience demands another, postfestival visit.

1:14 p.m.

James Carter is back for a second day, this time fronting his own organ trio, channeling the sound and style of soul jazz stars such as Jimmy Smith and Shirley Scott, but with a decidedly broader view of the role of the saxophone in that context.

Endurance should be James Carter's middle name. He's comes from a long line of sax players whose stature is measured by how long one can blow, while keeping endlessly fresh ideas coming. It's a tradition shared by the R&B honkers and bar-walkers of the '50s (Paul Williams, Big Jay McNeeley) as well as a generation of more modern marathoners who defined or at least dabbled in the avant-garde (Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane).

Carter descends from both lines, and often proves it within the same solo. He is doing that now, spurred on by Gerard Gibbs on the Hammond organ, and Leonard King on drums. The effect is mesmerizing as he switches from a repeated, foot-tapping riff -- bluesy through and through -- to a briefly unleashed screaming torrent that heightens the urgency of the performance.

1:30 p.m.

Andy Bey is singing "It's Only Make Believe" at the Waterside tent and

I'm mesmerized. If there's one jazz artist from this weekend whose depth of talent and years of experience deem him the one most deserving of overdue adulation and popular renown -- it is this man.

I've heard him a few times before, and I was curious how his cello-like voice (at times he seems to have two, maybe three, different voices at his disposal) would work in an outdoor setting.

It worked. With a simple trio (bassist Joe Martin and drummer Mark McLean), supplemented at times by guitarist Paul Meyers, Bey has pulled in a small gathering of listeners who are enthralled by his loose and soulful treatments of tunes popularized by Nat King Cole and standards such as "Caravan."

Bey's ability to play with the volume of his voice -- maintaining a whisper level at the start of the tune, then finding the right point in the lyric to crack it open -- is but one of his trademarks. Another is his humming -- part like a gospel moan, part like a bowed bass -- that dips deep into the bottom of his vocal register and adds poignancy to a tune like the Depression-era song "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?"

2:02 p.m.

What a singer and what a song! In the tune "Midnight Sun", it's stunning how Johnny Mercer was able in the same verse to rhyme the words "ruby chalice," "alabaster palace" and "aurora borealis."

Bey closes his set with a tune yet to have a lyric -- the bop classic "Blues 'N' Boogie," made famous by Dizzy Gillespie and then Miles Davis. His scatting ability on an upbeat number like this skips along smoothly and unrushed, and his comfort with the bop harmonies is impressive. Bravo.

2:45 p.m.

With visible emotion George Wein, the event's producer, is playing piano and leading an eight-piece group in a tasteful version of the seldom-heard Duke Ellington chestnut "Johnny Come Lately." It's his first Newport Festival since the death of his wife Joyce, who served as his business partner and a guiding force. Wein's now 80 and, as he has done since the start of the festival, he allows himself the chance to play on one of the smaller stages -- along with a favored group of veterans who share his passion for swing-focused, pre-bebop jazz: saxophonists Frank Wess and Lew Tabackin, trumpeter Randy Sandke, guitarist Howard Alden, bassist Peter Washington and drummer Kenny Washington. "What's next, Frank?" Wein asks one song later, signaling that Wess was about to take a solo turn.

"This Is All I Ask," the tenor man replied, mentioning the Gordon Jenkins ballad (another relatively lost gem from the American songbook).

"Well, I guess it all depends how much," is Wein's deadpan reply, a bit

of old-school humor that leaves Wess and the audience chuckling. He responds by lightly playing the song with his signature, Lester Young-inspired mellowness, as Alden supplies the sole support and Wein simply sits on the piano bench, smiling, taking in the sound of one his favorite soloists.

3:50 p.m.

Israeli-born bassist Avishai Cohen has been on the Pavilion stage for two tunes already, accompanied by the same trio he's been touring internationally for close to three years (keyboardist Sam Barsh and drummer Mark Guiliana). The tunes "Feediop," "Arava" and "Emotional Storm" are the sound of a road-honed group: careful use of dynamics, highly rhythmic gear-shifting from section to section. Cohen himself is one of the stars who has risen from Smalls, perhaps New York City's most welcoming club for young musicians today. His bass playing is incredibly expressive and wide-ranging in its moods, colors and textures -- plucking beyond the bridge, liberal use of glissando.

I want to stay, but I make one of those festival rationalizations: New York is his home, so I'll catch him again soon enough.

4:23 p.m.

Angélique Kidjo -- pint-sized power singer from Benin, West Africa --

is leading the crowd in a sing along: "Asheh Mama, Africa!" She's threatening to step off the stage to help get the crowd singing along with more gusto. Her band is top notch and doesn't loose a beat when she proceeds to do exactly that; as her group plays on, Kidjo runs down the steps off stage right, running toward the audience, remote microphone in hand.

"This is my weapon of mass instruction," she cries out and tells of how the song is dedicated to those having less and needing more all over her home continent. She's doing all she can to get the jazz audience off their seats; her singing and the song beg comparison with the delivery of Cuban salsa powerhouse Celia Cruz, then other ladies of power such as Miriam Makeba.

Kidjo is deep in the audience, totally obscured and surrounded by security guards and dancing fans, while behind them, a circle of onlookers claps. It appears she will hold nothing back to connect with her public. Back onstage for the next song, she invites a number of people to quickly slip by security and dance with her -- and about 20 do.

4:50 p.m.

At the Waterside tent, Latin piano maestro Eddie Palmieri and trumpeter Brian Lynch have been joined by altoist Donald Harrison. It turns out Harrison has remained at Newport for Sunday though he is not scheduled to play, and will sit in with at least three bands that I saw.

Harrison's ability to speak through his horn in a number of styles with equal facility and conviction is a marvel; alongside Palmieri he blows with a staccato precision: a saxophone vocabulary quite unlike his playing from the day before.

What would Newport be without so much spontaneous sitting in? I think of how seldom this happens in most jazz clubs, even in New York City, because everyone's either on the road or sans instruments.

5:13 p.m.

Japanese pianist Hiromi has just been introduced on the Pavilion tent and is making her Newport debut. Her fleet touch, manic energy and a sectional approach to song structure brings to mind a somewhat more driven Ahmad Jamal. She finishes her first number and launches into "Spiral" -- an original that betrays her classical training and affection for avant-garde flourishes, shifting in and out of improvisational passages. Despite her youthful appearance, she's been on the road consistently enough to have a polished trio -- featuring bassist Tony Grey and drummer Martin Valihora -- at her side. Because her exhilarating jazz holds much promise, Hiromi (full name: Hiromi Uehara) is a name to watch.

5:45 p.m.

The reigning piano professor from New Orleans, Dr. John, is on the

main stage and has the crowd on its feet for the first time since Angélique Kidjo. A big reason is the music: The syncopated lines that define his funk anthem "Right Place, Wrong Time" are made for that purpose, and one does not have to be a student of Crescent City R&B to feel it. Another reason is because the long, music-saturated weekend -- all perfect weather to this point -- is drawing to a close.

The sky was already cloudy a few minutes before Dr. John offered the jazz standard "Makin Whoopee" and the traditional Dixieland number "St. James Infirmary" (a song speaking of identifying the body of one's love that seems all too poignant after Katrina), which has become part of his regular repertoire. "Yeah, you right" he intones, using a familiar New Orleans phrase to express his pleasure at the applause, and lets his left hand begin to work out a boogie rhythm that flows into "Sippiana Hericane," a musical declaration of Gulf Coast determination to recover and rebuild after last August's disaster.

On a historical footnote, since the devastation Katrina caused in New Orleans, there have been many cultural events that have measured the city's return: the first Mardi Gras parades, the re-opening of many music clubs in the French Quarter and Uptown. But none was as important nor had as much impact as the return of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, the other crowning achievement of George Wein's Festival Productions staff.

The 36-year-old festival features 10 stages' worth of music

during two consecutive weekends and draws hundreds of thousands of visitors to the city, raising close to $225 million. It was Dr. John who was chosen to close out the first weekend of the festival's successful return -- with "Sippiana Hericane" the highlight of his set. There have been quite a few Katrina-related songs written; few have the power and uplift of Dr. John's.

6:23 p.m.

The only music left at Newport is coming from the main stage. Trumpeter Chris Botti was chosen to close out the weekend, as the sun dips toward the horizon and a pink glow starts to highlight the clouds and envelop the stage. Botti -- often seen as a "smooth jazz" artist -- has the chops and (recently) the songbook to argue otherwise. He's a sensitive player despite his matinee-idol looks, though his solos on tunes such as "Embraceable You" and "When I Fall in Love" tend to be a bit too reverb-soaked.

Right now, he's performing an instrumental take of Leonard Cohen's "A Thousand Kisses Deep" -- and its clear that the big difference in his performances from past ones I've seen is that he's developed a worthy (and all-star) touring band, featuring award-winning players such as pianist Billy Childs, guitarist Mark Whitfield, bassist James Genus and (the incredible) drummer Billy Kilson. It's obvious how grateful Botti feels, taking time throughout his set to highlight each player -- humorously and sincerely.

7:13 p.m.

Botti walks backstage, down the stairs and into the audience, all while soloing on "My Funny Valentine." Midway through he stops and serenades a woman on a lawn chair, giving her a story that she'll undoubtedly be repeating for months to come.

7:25 p.m.

Botti reveals his gracious side as he brings up a new friend -- Donald Harrison -- to close out the set with David Sanborn's "Relativity," allowing the alto saxophonist to take the last extended solo of his performance. The tune ends with a crashing cascade of cymbals courtesy of Childs -- and another JVC Jazz Festival Newport officially ends with an announcement from artistic director Dan Melnick, urging all a safe journey home, and closes with those inevitable four words:

"See you next year!" Let's hope so.

Ashley Kahn is an American music historian, journalist and producer. He's toured as road manager with artists such as Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Hugh Masekela, Paul Simon, Peter Gabriel and Britney Spears. He's also written books about two essential jazz albums: Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" and John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." His writing has appeared in the New York Times, Downbeat, Jazz Times, Rolling Stone, Mojo and GQ; he's also a regular commentator on NPR's Morning Edition.