You can tell a lot about a jazz musician's approach by the way he or she acts on stage. Miles Davis often walked off before his set finished, and rarely bothered to make announcements about tunes, so immersed was he in the creation of an entirely new experience.
At Ronnie Scott's this week, vocalist Claire Martin strode around the stage , stretching and growling like a tomcat, charming and claiming audience affections. Her support, violinist Regina Carter, in contrast, was as quiet as a mouse. Finishing her solo, she crouched by the amplifier, the gems in her dreadlocks catching the light. She picked up a percussion instrument to help out drummer Alvester Garnett, but apart from that, you'd hardly have known she was there.
Despite her growing status in jazz circles and the stir she created at the recent Northsea Jazz Festival, Carter is not about to blow anything resembling her own trumpet. It's hard enough being a violinist; generally jazz audiences are used to, well, jazzier instruments, and there are few enough practitioners to convert the masses. But Carter likens herself to a vocalist and lets her violin speak for her, in a voice as rich in emotion, quick in pace and assured in intelligence as one might imagine her own speech.
Now she has got over that shyness about her ability, Carter's silence on stage is less about being over-awed than a meditative stillness before that next burst of energy is unleashed through her bow. This measured quality is a big feature of her playing. She is serene, neither lagging behind the beat nor overdoing it, but applying exactly the right quantities of force and pace. The Gershwin favourite Lady Be Good, which she dedicated to "all the jazz violinists who came before me", gave a glimpse of her swift precision, and of the influence of Stephane Grappelli on her lively phrasing.
It was disappointing that the tunes that followed were all slower numbers, although Carter's rendition of Barron's Cook's Bay, a number from her recently released album Rhythms of the Heart, was hauntingly beautiful. There was also the opportunity for humour, as she mischievously inserted lines from God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman and Girl from Ipanema into her melodies, using high-pitched harmonics.
Guitarist Rodney Jones and pianist Werner Gierig got their chance for some innovative and lively solos, but Carter herself was mostly unstretched until her second set, which included the funky Listen Here, by Eddie Harris, and pianist Kenny Barron's New York Attitude. Can a violin have attitude? Too right it could. Wielding her instrument in the way a mother might grip a small child at the side of the road, Carter produced some fantastic effects, from screeches and warped notes to beautifully enunciated chromatic descents, counterpointed by ascents from double bassist Sean Conly. Carter has worked hard for years to perfect her blend of controlled energy and emotional reach - and this supreme effort has paid off.
