Benny Golson came, saw and, if he didn't conquer, at least left a benign impression when he played Vicar Street on Saturday night. These days he's more celebrated as a composer and teacher than as a player, and that seems to get it right.
On tenor he has a rich, full, old-time sound, as befits a past master at adorning a melody; as an improvising soloist, though, not a great deal sticks in the memory.
He was outshone in this area by the in-form guitarist Tommy Halferty, who, with Ronan Guilfoyle on bass guitar and Keith Copeland on drums, provided the kind of tightly knit support that comes from a trio of familiars.
And, in a mainstream idiom unusual for him, Guilfoyle also impressed as a soloist, especially on Golson's gorgeous Whisper Not; done as an encore, it was the group's best and most affecting performance.
The programme drew heavily on Golson material: Along Came Betty, Are You Real, Horizon Ahead, Stablemates and I Remember Clifford, his lovely lament for the great trumpeter Clifford Brown.
In fact, the only non-Golson piece was Brown's Tiny Capers, a delightful take on an oldie, Carolina Shout, according to Golson. Overall, though, it was the work of the Copeland Trio that provided most interest.
Opening the concert was Scotland's Brian Kellock Trio - Kellock on piano, Kenny Ellis on bass and John Rae on drums. Kellock is an accomplished if rather anonymous player - there were echoes of Bill Evans, Horace Silver and Bud Powell - and the trio was best described as neat, clean and well advised. There were pleasant moments, notably The Peacocks, but it needed something to lift it out of impending dullness.
On cue, tenor saxophonist Michael Buckley arrived to deliver a musical wake-up call. Playing in a basically mainstream idiom (with some modernist inflections) he doesn't normally inhabit these days, Buckley galvanised the group with lively and imaginative performances on some seldom-played standards, such as Close Your Eyes and I've Never Been In Love Before, as well as a lovely Billy Strayhorn ballad, Daydream, in which Kellock showed himself to be a superb accompanist.
And Buckley finished with a wry, magisterial Don't Cry For Me Argentina that showed who was in charge.
