Perhaps the best music is the music that only has itself as a definition; music that eludes clever quips, comparisons, and references. I'll try anyway. (A-hem) Dave Rivello's ensemble is his palette, or perhaps a window into his brain. As I listened to him sling color in the Big Tent last night, I saw music take shape in much the same way it appeared in his head (I'm assuming). How's that?

Now as I write this, it occurs to me that the visual this music created in my skull is more obtuse than my language. Rivello's compositions are beautiful, thoughtful, elegant, and complex without being too dense. They follow an interesting pattern; thought, explanation, exploration, conclusion, with the subtleties swirling around the larger pieces. Under Rivello's baton and his ensemble's treatment, the music was more of a long-awaited exhale. In other words, I liked it a lot.

I got to rub elbows backstage with Dave Brubeck. I mean that literally; when I stuck out my mitt to press the flesh, he stuck back his elbow and we bumped. Brubeck is a genius with extra-dry wit. Though he's pushing 90, the man spent almost two hours on stage at the Eastman Theatre. The band was incredible and had fun cracking each other up with little detours and Brubeck's penchant for dragging out endings. It's the 50th anniversary of his legendary platter "Time Out," and he dug out a couple of its songs -- ""Three To Get Ready, Four To Go," and of course "Take 5," which had my mom (my date for the evening) jumping up and down in her seat like a 3 year old. Brubeck's son Matthew joined the band for these two pieces with his ominous black cello. It was one of those monumental moments I can brag about seeing. That and the whole elbow thing.

Hot Club Of Cowtown was as wild and ragged as ever. The short hiatus when the band scattered toward Dylan and solo projects must've done the trio some good. The band was on fire at the Big Tent with rip-roaring Western swing, a dash of Gypsy, and a splash of melancholy.