Tenor sax legend Lou Donaldson strolled out cool and casual onto the Kilbourn stage in a black suit promising nothing but straight-up jazz. "No fusion, no confusion," he said. He and his quartet then launched into a sweet take on his 1957 "Blues Walk" where he let Akiko Tsuruga, the little lady behind the B3, swell, swirl, and swing. By the time they were into the second tune -- essentially a Charlie Parker piece, even though according to Donaldson, Bird stole it -- the guitarist was playing so fast he almost fell off his stool. At 81 Donaldson still exhibits incredible tone and seemingly effortless phrasing. He comes from the hard-bop school, and with this early set he proved to be its headmaster. Pure jazz with enough hairpin turns to keep it interesting, and a few straight-aways to lure the rookies.

It rained hammers and nails as I left the hall, and it looked like the night might be in jeopardy. By the time it began raining frogs I thought I might duck inside Christ Church just in case (OK, so maybe I'm a bit of an agnostic). I climbed right into the pulpit to dig up-and-coming saxophonist Miguel Zenon, whose flurry of notes sounded good up front but got a little lost as they soared and bounced off the marble and stone-faced icons. I was tempted to give an off-the-cuff sermon titled "Turbation and How I Became its Master," but exited the pulpit before my head caught on fire.

Caught a bit of Margaret Storms at Bernunzio's as she worked her dobro/ukulele hybrid. I swear her voice is getting more and more sultry by the minute.

Cindy Blackman plays drums the way drums oughta be played. It may not have always made sense, and I'll be goddamned if I could find the downbeat most of the time. But the joyous freedom with which she molested her kit seemed to make more sense than any 4/4 she ever beat for Lenny.

NYC's Todd Londigan crooned while they swooned in the Big Tent. Londigan sings in a temperate tenor and is genuinely charming. Unlike a lot of artists I admire and/or emulate, Londigan doesn't appear to have an evil bone in his body. He and his quintet worked beautiful standards like "No Moon At All" and "Until The Real Thing Comes Along" -- am I the only one picking up on a Big Joe pattern this year? -- and a handful of originals from the same cocktails-and-romance era. Londigan even revisited his street busker roots when he broke into an impromptu tap dance on the side of the stage.

Tonight I plan on seeing Jake Shimabukuro get freaky with the uke. See ya there.