Rik Wright Quintet at Egan’s Ballard Jam House

The first thing we noticed when we got to Egan’s Ballard Jam House on Saturday was that the place was designed by architects from Mattel, with parts left over from Barbie’s last house. The front room is as roomy as the backseat of a Volvo. The main dining/concert room is like an elongated hallway with a stage built into one wall. Even before the band started, the placed felt packed; this was because there were 31 people there (we counted).

So why did all those middle-aged couples squish themselves into Egan’s on a Saturday night? Rik Wright, who’s earned a reputation as the busiest jazz guitarist in Seattle, was playing a rare show with his quintet. Wright plays often around Seattle with a trio including James DeJoie on saxophone and Walter White on fretless bass, but Saturday he was joined by drummer Randy Doak, and—most importantly—trumpeter Jim Knodle.

Much has been made of Wright’s eclectic musical tastes. He grew up listening to country and bluegrass, studied jazz guitar in college, and played everything from jazz to rock before settling on the jazz idiom. Consequently, every mention of his work is sprinkled with references to disparate influences. The Oregonian writes, “Rik Wright takes classic jazz and heaps on piles of influences from across the musical spectrum, helping to perk up ears of those tired of the same old swing.” Jazz Views writes, “Guitarist Rik Wright is a musical experimentalist who is totally unafraid to cross stylistic barriers to achieve his musical vision. Quite simply, such barriers do not exist for him.”

When his set began, we saw what all the critics were talking about. Wright tore through a stew of standards and odd originals with names like “Boogie for Buddha.” Watching him play each head was like watching a bull prickling in the chute while some cowboy burned it a rope. When the head was done and it was Wright’s turn to solo, it was, open the gate, cowboy, and get out of the way. Wright combined the rapid-fire sixteenth notes of bluegrass with distinctly jazzy ideas, and played it all with the brash aggressiveness of rock. Often he broke up his long lines with syncopated chords and chops, but these were like so many rocks in a stream, little rapids that did nothing to slow the swift current as it raced by. It was push, push, push, drive, drive, drive, and stopped only when his solo was over.