There is an interesting duality that descends upon a small room occupied by a small group of seasoned listeners about to listen to a couple of master musicians. On one hand there is an expectation of yet another gift, another opening, another transcendental moment. On the other hand is the feeling that one has heard it all before. There exists a bit of a challenge to the musicians – take me somewhere I’ve never been – or let me witness a spectacular train wreck.

This was the atmosphere as Odean Pope and Art Davis walked onto the stage on September 22nd at University of Pennsylvania’s Houston Hall. The building is a student activity center – and the room is a small lecture hall – not an auditorium – inconveniently placed directly next to a coffee bar – so close in fact that the banging of pots and pans became percussive elements in Davis’ solos as the evening evolved.

But these two men were there to make music – and to listen to each other -- not to complain about the insulting environment. And music they made.

The event was billed as a tribute to Coltrane – whose 76th birthday would arrive at midnight – and it became a tribute in the best sense – the tribute included references to Trane – but also displayed the inner thoughts and feelings of each of these two friends of the late composer. Davis and Pope avoided the trap of doing all Coltrane tunes and made plenty of room for their own voices to be heard – as Trane would have encouraged them to do.

The evening started with an interpretation of Coltrane’s “Wise One” written for his first wife, Naima. It is a slow, smoldering ballad, based on a haunting 3 note motif and brought to life by Pope’s gorgeous, richly textured tone. “Wise One” is a song that could be about one woman, or about all of life’s gifts, or about the incalculable expanse of time itself.

Pope and Davis had played together a few times earlier in the week – and it was clear that they were still in state of open-ness to each other’s ideas, sound and exchanging leads. It should be stated here that Davis was working at a disadvantage. The economics of the tour did not permit him to transport his own instrument, forcing him to play on different borrowed basses in each city – a hugely difficult task, and not one any musician looks forward to.

For the second tune, Davis made some adjustments to his borrowed bass amp – and comfortably moved into a bossa nova with a soft but persistent swing. Following such a spiritual opening, this seemed at first like an odd choice. It was more Getz than Coltrane --was it perhaps a retreat, away from saying too much, too quickly? – was it a way to feel the audience and see if the Philly crowd could only take so much time on the precipice? – But this lovely and meandering walk became itself something deeper, as one realized that Davis was in no hurry anywhere, and certainly was not insisting on displaying technique for its own sake. It became a lesson in being comfortable where you are, or as George Clinton has aptly put it, “digging the skin you’re in”. Davis’ ability to swing, ever so gently, pushing Pope ahead – with no drummer, other than one implied by the inherent sense of rhythm, filled in the spaces and in a sense, cleared the palette.

Next was Odean’s composition, a faster 4/4 called “Knotted Out” -- an apt name cause it wasn’t knotted up – but a relaxed groove that allowed both musicians to stretch out – Odean began to spin his lines and Art’s foundation was somehow both solid and effervescent.

Now, sufficiently warmed up, Pope whispered something to Davis. Davis nodded and receded to the wings. Pope moved center stage and began to blow softly, with tremendous authority. It was a collage – some might say medley – but it was more Rollins- esque in that it was filled with quotes and ideas – of “I Remember Clifford” and Coltrane’s “Lonnie’s Lament” – and probably lots of other things from deep in Pope’s mind. It is hard to explain how a great opera singer, a great actor, or a musician of Pope’s caliber can whisper an idea and have it heard in the back of the room as if he were sitting next to you – is it force? Is it will? Is it just the pure desire to communicate? Add to that Pope’s long time devices of circular breathing, complex scale iterations and powerful leaps from top to bottom – mix in his sound quality – and we go beyond the realm of virtuosic clichés and into powerful interpretation and deep expression of inner thoughts. In fact, what I’m suggesting is that Odean Pope may be on the brink of yet another artistic breakthrough.

Everyone in the room needed time to let that solo sink in – and days later, for me, it still hasn’t – and the next number was a medium groove blues – that allowed time for Davis to re-mesh with Pope. Davis was playing on borrowed equipment and was now getting used to its feel and adjusting his sound to Odean, to the amp and to the room. Some may have wondered if Davis was just a little concerned about Pope’s display of virtuosity – how could that be countered?

Davis was unruffled and quite happy. His chance to answer Pope came next as Pope stood back and gave the bassist time for an unaccompanied solo of his own. Based on “Nature Boy” and Eubie Blake’s “Memories of You” Davis did indeed invoke memories of Trane – not so much with quotes, but with feelings and memories of his old friend. His command of the large instrument and its simple 4 strings was riveting and undeniable. Our uncomfortable surroundings impinged here, more than ever – a loud and haphazard arhythmic banging spilled in from the adjoining café – it was clearly an intrusion on the listeners – but not, apparently, to Davis – who was intent and focused. Davis’ display was all there –in the simplicity, the restraint -- and in what he didn’t play – or the tricks he didn’t feel a need to rely on. It was about music, about memory, about tribute and about sharing. Art Davis is not compelled to remind us that he is Art Davis.

The set ended with an exploration in the 12 tone domain – something Pope told the audience he and Davis had been experimenting with throughout the week. He warned us that it might go a little far out – a caution that seemed unnecessary. We too were warmed up and well prepared. They had already taken us somewhere new, and now comforted by the knowledge we were being led strongly and confidently, it was easy to close one’s eyes, stare deep into the darkness, experience depth of mind and depth of universe, all the while feeling as comfortable as a child in the back seat on long ride home.

There are theories in contemporary physics which suggest that all matter is made of vibrating strings, nestled deep inside the matter of each atom. The ancient Sufi and Hindi masters often described matter, life and its cycles in eerily similar terms. Hearing the sound of one of our great string players, molding his basic strings into nuanced sound sculptures, along with one of the great tenor players of the day -- breath reverberating through the bell of his silver and gold plated horn -- each artist turning those tiny strings of matter into amplified sounds – bare and pure -- is a testament to those theories – and to the strength and importance of two people perfecting their art.

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