Glasgow Jazz Festival reviews: It can�t be too often that the cultural contributions of Will Fyffe and Yellowjackets� Bob Mintzer have appeared in the same programme.

BBC Big Band, Old Fruitmarket
By Rob Adams
Star rating: ****

It can't be too often that the cultural contributions of Will Fyffe and Yellowjackets' Bob Mintzer have appeared in the same programme. Such, though, is the BBC Big Band's broad reach and the song that Fyffe bequeathed to the nation, I Belong to Glasgow, sounded every bit the orchestral vehicle in this punchy guise, with its slightly martial, Scotland the Brave-like supporting phrases, that Mintzer's dancing samba Happy Song produced.

The band, as we were reminded more than once from the stage during what grew to feel like a rather proprietorial BBC presentation (Radio 3 was recording it for Jazz Line Up), is a fine one and could easily command the stage for an evening by itself. There were a couple of far from incidental appearances, however, that boosted the entertainment value.

First there was Scots quartet Brass Jaw, making terrific use of trumpet and alto, tenor and baritone saxophones in a set that bobbed, bopped, funked, swung and metaphorically sang the blues on arrangements variously spiky, lush and downright mellifluous.

Then the great unsung saxophonist Art Themen guested with the BBC's robustly cultured team, appearing a mite apprehensive but showing during his opening number, Watch What Happens, all the character and flow of ideas that have long hallmarked his playing.

Always a versatile player, Themen tackled Patrick Williams's panoramic Threshold with Michael Brecker-like bite, smooched Prelude to a Kiss like a seasoned Ellingtonian and presaged singer Claire Martin's finely-judged Stolen Moments with a rattling Critics Choice during the full-flavoured Oliver Nelson medley that was the finale.

Lionel Loueke, Old Fruitmarket
By Rob Adams
Star rating: ***

He promised to give a flavour of Africa but Lionel Loueke did a sight more than that. The guitarist from Benin turns out to be a veritable one-man world tour. As well as hinting strongly at African instruments such as the kora and kalimba in the scales and taut fingerpicking of his guitar style, Loueke evoked the phantom presence of a didgeridoo, incorporated a light, breathy vocal timbre reminiscent of Brazilian Milton Nascimento and sparred with his trio in the sort of compound metre that falls easily to feet in his drummer, Ferenc Nemeth's Hungarian homeland.

So, that's four continents covered and the Chinese overtones in the penultimate ballad make five. The thing about Loueke is that he gathers these cultures into one fluent language and, with Nemeth and Italian-Swedish bassist Massimo Biolcati, he forms a mobile, almost molten, group in that they appear to alter tempo and mood on a collective whim. The opening number, Karibu, grew from Loueke's delicate picking and mouth percussion - pops and clicks that he works into his melodic crooning - into a thing of blazing intensity, with Nemeth a hyperactive presence, and the shades of Nascimento that had wafted in and out of that piece came to fruition when Loueke made the Brazilian's Ponta De Areia the coda to his own Benny's Tune. Loueke enjoys involving his audience, although our clapping and chanting were no match for his impersonation of a small African choir and transforming of a guitar into a talking drum corps.

Evan Parker Double Quartet, Tron Theatre
By Rob Adams
Star rating: ****

There's a remarkable symmetry to Evan Parker's double quartet, so much so that if you were to place a big mirror across the middle of the stage, the reflection it offered wouldn't differ much from what lay behind it. Two white drum kits face each other, framing two double basses, and even the bottled water gets in on the act, four bottles, for the frontline players completing the picture.

It goes further: both drummers are Paul, both bassists John and the trombonists are both Bauers, the brothers Connie and Johannes. So it's logical that while the music is totally unscripted, with the exception of an apparently planned, rugged twin bass intro, there's an element of organisation to it of the sort that happens in all jazz groups.

This was, partly, why this instalment of the festival's German Jazz strand was so successful. Parker, who breaks the symmetrical mould by being the hirsute polar opposite of fellow saxophonist Gerd Dudek, lent direction that channelled his players' capabilities into duos, trios and almost conventional soloist with rhythm section sequences, offering light, clarity and gentler exploration in the midst of the full-on full-band tumult, which was in its own way invigorating and involving. Po-faced improv, this was not. Johannes Bauer introduces elements of street theatre with his physicality and commentary-cum-fanfare blasts, in contrast to brother Connie's considered, combined singing and blowing, and the playful spirit all eight musicians brought to a spontaneous tribute to their departed friend and fellow traveller, Peter Kowald, added humour to a heartfelt hymn.

Ryan Quigley Big Band with Justin Currie, Old Fruitmarket, Glasgow
By Keith Bruce
Star rating: ****

There is a sense in which this was an extremely odd gig, and it is tempting to say it was only held together by the force of trumpeter Ryan Quigley's personality. On one hand, there was a new big band, playing pretty straight, and quite conservative, big band charts and comprised of 18 musicians of such high calibre that they were rarely, if ever, stretched.

Then there was the presence of the former frontman of Del Amitri, as darkly handsome and droll as ever (his dedication was to Farrah Fawcett rather than Michael Jackson), but a little nervous at his debut in front of such an ensemble.

The standing-room-only house was just as divided, with Currie's followers probably just outnumbered by the big band music fans. But the concert did succeed, with members of both camps enjoying many of the other bits, and only the occasional longeurs. Quigley's showmanship is part of the reason, with arrangements designed to produce kitsch competition between members of the trumpet section, for example. But his musicianship in creating interesting arrangements of Currie's songs and other music for these forces was more crucial. Some worked better than others (and the Beach Boys' God Only Knows was probably a mistake), but none was less than interesting.

Credit should also go to Currie, though, who stepped into the role with aplomb by continuing to be himself and trusting his own voice, rather than attempting to emulate Sinatra (or Carl Wilson). Marks off to the few Currie fans with short attention spans who wouldn't stay in the hall to appreciate the whole project.

Kyle Eastwood Quintet, Tron Theatre
By Keith Bruce
Star rating: ***

There is something fitting about Kyle Eastwood adopting fellow bass-player Bob Haggart's 1938 tune Big Noise from Winnetka as a signature piece. Its title and style are evocative of the west and of the cinema, and his actor/director father even supplies the whistling on the recorded version. (Eastwood junior whistled through his teeth here, and, frankly it wasn't the same.) The tune was one of the highlights of a set that focused on his past two albums and revealed the growing strength of Eastwood's writing. With the theme from Letters From Iwo Jima the only obvious inclusion of the soundtrack-composing that is becoming an increasing part of his life, the two disciplines might not be as far apart as Eastwood suggests. Song For You, from the new Metropolitan set, is built on a figure played on harmonics on the bass that is not unlike the tunes in his film scores. These were the gentlest pieces here. The rest of the set was made of straight-ahead jazz funk, with Eastwood clearly in the leader's chair, his riffs punctuated by slaps and lightning-fingered runs.

Pianist Andrew McCormack had his electronic keyboard on the Fender Rhodes setting for much of the evening and drummer Martyn Kaine was propulsive and direct. The two Graemes, Flowers and Blevins, on trumpet and tenor, supplied dynamic soloing, with the honours going to the saxophonist for a Rollins-like blow-out on Marrakesh.

Chiefly, this was an ensemble excursion and the leader's dedication of a tune to the departed Michael Jackson was not as tokenistic as it might appear. Some of Eastwood's tunes are as near the soul-funk dancefloor as they are to jazz.

Neil Sedaka, Clyde Auditorium, Glasgow John Williamson HH This night, billed as "The Songs of Neil Sedaka", began with a classroom-style audio-visual presentation showing a score of artists who have covered his work over 50 years. This is a veritable who's who, featuring Johnny Mathis, Shirley Bassey, Engelbert Humperdinck, The Carpenters, Tony Christie, Abba, Elvis and Frank Sinatra.

When Sedaka arrives, the scene is set, but the subtext is already clear: his strength is as a songwriter and gifted pianist, not as a performer or singer. While he can lay claim to an impressive catalogue from the 1958-63 period, where he reminds us he sold 40 million records, the anodyne syrup that is Oh! Carol, Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen and Calendar Girl only goes so far, and over 24 songs, the emotional range is too narrow.

Even so, when the balance of clawing sentimentality and nostalgia favours the latter, as on Solitaire and The Hungry Years, Sedaka's songs retain some power, and if the sentiments seem cliched, it is often because he invented them. On the odd occasion he deviates from the piano/vocal format and plays along to backing tracks, it becomes all the more incongruous, not least on the sub-Ricky Martin feel of new song, Do You Remember?

The problem is that where Sedaka's songs swoop and soar, his voice does not, meaning no amount of anecdotes and charm dilutes the impression his songs are best placed in the hands of others.