You know how cartoon characters get lifted off the ground by their noses and get physically carried away by the scent of something tasty nearby? That might as well have been how I reacted last night as I was about to get in line for Ryan Shaw's first show at the Montage and heard the sound of the Brockport Community Big Band premiering bandleader Sean Joseph's composition "Kylie's Tune," which he wrote in tribute to his daughter. Keep in mind that the BCBB was playing a BLOCK AWAY, and I still found this tune so magnetically beautiful that it acted on me like an irresistible siren call.

As I got closer and sampled some of the band's more aggressive tunes, the horns cut through the air like the wings of a 747, and I marveled at how sleek, powerful and... well, big the whole operation sounded. Sure, the bass and kick drum sounded thick, pumping through the PA loud and clear, but the BCBB had an undeniable strength in its stride that you just can't attribute to acoustics alone. And guitar player Todd Twichell smoked his solos but, rather than just noodle and flex and "solo" in the traditional sense, he played lines that lifted the music as a whole to another level. And Joseph was on a mission to recognize everyone in the band.

"That featured... everybody in the sax section, everybody in the trombone section, everybody in the trumpet section, and everybody in the rhythm section," he quipped after introducing some soloists by their first names. "I don't do anything up here."

Joseph, who hails from Australia, did rock a hardy trombone solo, but it struck me as odd to see a conductor move his arms so little.

"The beat's already set-up," explained Joseph after the performance. "The rhythm section are already providing a good groove. I shouldn't have to conduct. So I just cue entrances to people when it's time for them to come in. And I also try to develop the groove as we play, in real time."

Joseph says that such an approach is standard, but he came across as a maverick personality nonetheless. After one tune, for example, he told the crowd that he wasn't sure if he could remember everyone who had just played a solo. Charming, to be sure, and yet another example of the great variety of fine big band music that the RIJF makes available every year.

Ran -- literally ran -- back to the Montage in hopes of seeing how intense Ryan Shaw's music would sound in a small space. (He plays outdoors Friday at the free stage at East and Chestnut.) In all fairness, I can say this: ultimately, you can't deny that Shaw has the goods vocally. But, while I knew full well how much Shaw is influenced by classic soul crooners like Otis Redding and Jackie Wilson, Shaw's studio recordings are filled with savvy modern touches. Live, he felt like a retro act. That may seem like a strange thing to hold against someone performing at a jazz festival, but when it seems like every single aspect of a certain aesthetic was painstakingly recreated, the music strikes me as hollow. And there's a difference between honoring a musical tradition and copying it.

Shaw's singing is not hollow, and it's clear that he loves old soul music. So I think he's more than capable of tipping his hat to his idols without sounding like he wants to BE them. His records prove it, in fact. I hope he does well outside, and knocks ‘em dead.

On a similar note, whatever my feelings about Michael McDonald are (and hint: they are slowly coming around in his favor), I just can't deny that he gave the audience their money's worth. Almost the entire crowd was on its feet, clapping and singing along. Even an usher was dancing. Imagine that, at the ultra-classy Eastman Theatre! Said usher reminded me that my media pass gave me access to stand up front, and looked incredulous when I told her I was fine hanging in the back. "If I had a media pass, I'd be right up front, ya know!" I felt like I was being scolded, and I offered to trade places with her, but she assured me she was fine and promptly got back to shaking it to "Ain't Nothin' Like the Real Thing." (I am not making this up.)

Similar to Shaw, though, McDonald sounded like a three-dimensional presence trying his best to work with two-dimensional accompaniment. McDonald's band played his hit songs faithfully. Skill wasn't their problem, and neither was enthusiasm, so it didn't sink the show by any means. And, perhaps because of its slightly schmaltzy character, McDonald's performance struck me as one of the most honest I've seen all week.

Running at roughly the same time, kitty corner from Eastman, KJ Denhert and her band played a blend of jazz, funk, soul, folk. But, where so many bands use those elements in single-minded ways, employing them as textures that never deviate from their one, simple rhythmic function, Denhert adds two more dimensions to the mix with chord progressions that actually progress to unexpected places. She also has a silken-yet-booming voice that she weaves into those progressions with the awareness of someone who experiences music on more than one level.

Denhert introduced her medley-fied rendition of a Deep Purple song. Of course, she chose THE most obvious Purple tune, but I was nonetheless heartened because: 1) she really did a lot to make the tune her own, and also managed to introduce new, more tender moods to it; and 2) I've been listening to Purple all week before heading to the shows in order to clear my senses of jazz so that I'm more receptive by the time I get to the festival. I took Denhert's version as the universe's way of telling me that both jazz and Deep Purple rule.