Lakecia Benjamin, Allan Harris, Guy Barker and the BBC Concert Orchestra join forces for a mighty Mingus celebration

Nothing could be more fitting for the centenary of Charles Mingus than a stage crammed full of musicians. The bassist-bandleader-composer was able to make a small group sound like a big band, so the sight of the BBC Concert Orchestra, a 14-piece UK jazz ensemble and star US soloists in the shape of alto saxophonist Lakecia Benjamin and vocalist-narrator Allan Harris is a literal supersizing of the legend’s own way of drawing more from less. Conductor-arranger Guy Barker has cleverly chosen to present new scores not just of some of the songs that saw Mingus help to define the modern jazz era of the late 1950s and early 60s, but also of the music borne of his excellent collaborations.

 Money Jungle was the timeless album Mingus made with his idol, Duke Ellington, and Max Roach, and one of its highlights, ‘Fleurette Africaine’ is given a fine rendition, as is the other Dukish anthem ‘Caravan.’ On both Benjamin dominates with rakishly aggressive improvisations in which her quickfire trilling and whirling rhythmic figures do not come at the expense of clear articulation and focused dynamics. And in her gleaming white suit with billowing sleeves and flowing black locks she exudes headliner charisma to match her musicianship.

If there were a lot of notes in the first half of the evening the second is about words and music, which is fitting given the prevalence of spoken word in the Mingus canon. He used it to startling effect throughout his career and here it is Harris (above) who recounts what are really scenes from the artist’s life written by Robert Ryan. The result is a suite built around a number of key works, notably ‘Boogie Stop Shuffle’, ‘Moanin’ and ‘Better Get Hit In Your Soul’, pieces ingeniously rooted in blues, swing and gospel yet inflected towards somethin’ else that was both wildly experimental and irresistibly danceable. Harris, a singer who has worked with Barker before, brings the finesse of a Nat ‘King’ Cole to the melodies he handles, but it is really his relaxed yet vivid storytelling, full of wry, dark humour as well as tragic reality checks on a racist America in which Mingus came of age, that prove to be a very notable pleasure of the performance.

When he evokes the swastika of ‘Fables Of Faubus’ the term has as much power as the engrossing solos of trumpeter Byron Wallen and clarinetists-alto saxophonist Giacomo Smith because of the enduring horror summoned up. Mingus’ centenary sadly coincides with Italy’s lurch to the Far Right while the atomic bomb the bassist feared still hasn’t been defused. Oh Lord, don’t let them drop it on us now.