Sunday nights to hear the James Cornelison Quartet, where roots of a different kind are involved: the members are students in the U-M's consistently adventurous jazz program.
You never know quite what you're going to get--and that's the appeal. One evening, I heard the quartet do fascinating instrumental elaborations on a set of Bill Withers songs, taking the rhythmic elongations that reveal key twists of emotion ("but oh baby, baby, baby, baby, when you love me I can't get enough") and spreading them out still more, playing with them as they developed. The original tunes were still intact and fully recognizable, and vocals were even added on a few pieces, but the music was true jazz, not slightly ornamented R&B. While jazz journalists fret about how to connect jazz with songs more contemporary than the old standards, these young people were going out and doing it for themselves.
Other nights they've played more straight-ahead modern jazz, and their enjoyment as they master this tradition is evident. They ask each other about the tunes. They laugh. And they often seem to find something new with each number. Electric guitarist Cornelison has the elusive way of seeming not to be the leader even as he's clearly setting a musical agenda that connects the guitar's bebop and funk moods. The membership of the rest of the quartet changes, but he holds the group together whoever's playing.