Harry Allen played cool and close to the two-tone jazz 'n' cocktails sound you'd expect to hear a little more of at a jazz festival. He and his tight, tight quartet kicked off with "I Get A Kick Out Of You" and fleshed it out nice, avoiding the temptation to turn it inside out. This was utterly classic and slick --- including the weird expression frozen on Allen's mug. This was music for mashers on the make; however, Kilbourn ain't really condusive to seduction.

Nancy Kelly certainly knows to amplify her supple voice, and the air around her with dramatic swoops and waves of the mic. She looked like a bishop dousing the maxed-out Max crowd in holy water and jazz. She works her voice out around the standards as if the charts were monkey bars.

Then it was through the angry crowd who couldn't get into the SRO Bonerama show at Montage. This band goes to 11, started on 11, and stayed at 11. This was a trombone-driven bulldozer of intense, relentless funk; loud, undeniable, unavoidable, unpredictable, and wild. And I really dug the trombone pumped through a wah-wah. Bonerama is a brass tidal wave. The crowd went nuts.

Finland's Five Corners Quintet was another act of the night that kept it more traditional at The Lutheran Reformed Church, even within its individual solo protractions.

Caught Jean-Luc Ponty at the Eastman Theatre and have to admit, I really don't like this smooth stuff at all --- no edge, no balls. Nor do I like violins for the most part. Fiddles, sure. There's plenty of folks who dig this guy, his violin, and smooth jazz (and who probably think I'm a jerk), but I simply had to flee. It ain't for me.

Again, call me a jerk if you want, but Ted Michaels singing standards on the Gibbs Street Stage was strictly B-grade wedding fodder; amateur and rather un-imaginative. With so many bands and artists clamoring to get on this festival, this was a complete waste of space.

Last stop was the Harro East Ballroom to catch the Kyle Eastwood Band. When I first arrived Eastwood was playing electric and sticking to the upper register. At this point his tenor sax player was the only thing really giving the sound a push. But when Eastwood sidled up to his abbreviated upright bass and launched into a solid stab at "Big Noise From Winnetka," I was sent.