Talking jazz

You need a holiday after the North Sea Jazz Festival, a three-day jamboree during which 60,000 or so visitors cram the myriad halls, bars and stadia of the Congress Centre in the Hague. Hundreds of different acts, ranging from big beasts like Wynton Marsalis, Shirley Horn and George Benson to lesser known species such as the Texas Christian University Jazz Ensemble, play sets in this labyrinthine building from late afternoon to the early hours.

Fortunately last weekend I was able to escape to the Blue Note VIP room, a civilised haven from a festival so crowded that a large number bring shooting sticks on which to rest their weary behinds. Blue Note had a sizeable presence this year, one room being entirely dedicated to their artists on the Friday night. Here could be found musicians whose Continental fame has yet to transfer to Britain, such as Stefano di Battista, Erik Truffaz and Jacky Terrasson.

The latter manages that most difficult of tricks, bringing something fresh to the piano trio without turning it upside down. Terrasson is so firmly rooted in the past, joyfully quoting old songs such as "These Foolish Things" and "Softly As In A Morning Sunrise", that he can push a familiar tune well beyond its bounds without alienating those who wish to hear the melody given its due. "All Blues", for instance, flowed along a sparkling stream before the trio cascaded down a waterfall of sound. Terrasson strikes a remarkable balance in the way he reinterprets standards, genuinely bringing something new to them by almost recomposing them in a seamlessly natural way. It was not until afterwards that I even noticed his startlingly beautiful version of "Smile" was in 5/4, a time signature that so often comes across as artificially split into three plus two. If this sounds like Brad Mehldau, think again: Terrasson's highly melodic and arpeggio-led approach is the opposite of the Mehldau deconstruction method.

Attempting to find my way to the roof terrace, I was sidelined by the pop concert volume of Deodato, the Brazilian jazz rock veteran who burst on the scene in 1973 with a full brass and electronics version of "Also Sprach Zarathustra". Although it's not done to admit it in polite society, there's something irresistible in his disco treatments of great themes. Certainly, I had to stay to hear all of "Rhapsody In Blue", with apologies to Gershwin.

After a trip to hear the Garfield High School Jazz Ensemble, in which their admirably high standard of playing through Ellington and Waller charts showed what results a proper jazz education programme can achieve, it was downstairs to catch the end of Lou Donaldson's set. Donaldson, an alto saxophonist, sometimes goes into Parker tribute mode. This night, flanked by Dr Lonnie Smith, resplendent in flowing white robe and powder-pink turban behind the Hammond organ, Donaldson was mining the boogaloo vein in very good humour. After hollering his way through "Whisky Drinking Woman" he acknowledged the applause: "Glad to hear you appreciate classical singing."

The open-spiritedness of the festival was exemplified by Slide Hampton, accosted by a member of the audience after he'd given a trombone clinic. "I don't play the trombone," began the fellow, "but I do play lip trombone." After the visitor's vocal brass impression, complete with hand gestures, he turned to Hampton. "Well," came the reply. "that's a lot better than many of the trombonists I teach."